KIEV
Owing to the many difficulties and delays the journey from Fastov
to Kiev lasted six days and was a continuous nightmare. The railway
situation was appalling. At every station scores of freight cars
clogged the lines. Nor were they loaded with provisions to feed the
starving cities; they were densely packed with human cargo among whom
the sick were a large percentage. All along the route the waiting rooms
and platforms were filled with crowds, bedraggled and dirty. Even
more ghastly were the scenes at night. Everywhere masses of desperate
people, shouting and struggling to gain a foothold on the train. They
resembled the damned of Dante's Inferno, their faces ashen gray in
the dim light, all frantically fighting for a place. Now and then an
agonized cry would ring through the night and the already moving train
would come to a halt: somebody had been thrown to his death under the
wheels.
It was a relief to reach Kiev. We had expected to find the city almost
in ruins, but we were pleasantly disappointed. When we left Petrograd
the Soviet Press contained numerous stories of vandalism committed by
Poles before evacuating Kiev. They had almost demolished the famous
ancient cathedral in the city, the papers wrote, destroyed the water
works and electric stations, and set fire to several parts of the
city. Tchicherin and Lunacharsky issued passionate appeals to the
cultured people of the world in protest against such barbarism. The
crime of the Poles against Art was compared with that committed by
the Germans in Rheims, whose celebrated cathedral had been injured by
Prussian artillery. We were, therefore, much surprised to find Kiev in
even better condition than Petrograd. In fact, the city had suffered
very little, considering the numerous changes of government and the
accompanying military operations. It is true that some bridges and
railroad tracks had been blown up on the outskirts of the city, but
Kiev itself was almost unharmed. People looked at us in amazement when
we made inquiries about the condition of the cathedral: they had not
heard the Moscow report.
Unlike our welcome in Kharkov and Poltava, Kiev proved a
disappointment. The secretary of the _Ispolkom_ was not very amiable
and appeared not at all impressed by Zinoviev's signature on our
credentials. Our secretary succeeded in seeing the chairman of the
Executive Committee, but returned very discouraged: that high official
was too impatient to listen to her representations. He was busy, he
said, and could not be troubled. It was decided that I try my luck as
an American, with the result that the chairman finally agreed to give
us access to the available material. It was a sad reflection on the
irony of life. America was in league with world imperialism to starve
and crush Russia. Yet it was sufficient to mention that one came from
America to find the key to everything Russian. It was pathetic, and
rather distasteful to make use of that key.
In Kiev antagonism to Communism was intense, even the local Bolsheviki
being bitter against Moscow. It was out of the question for anyone
coming from "the centre" to secure their coöperation unless armed with
State powers. The Government employees in Soviet institutions took no
interest in anything save their rations. Bureaucratic indifference
and incompetence in Ukraina were even worse than in Moscow and were
augmented by nationalistic resentment against the "Russians." It was
true also of Kharkov and Poltava, though in a lesser degree. Here the
very atmosphere was charged with distrust and hatred of everything
Muscovite. The deception practised on us by the chairman of the
Educational Department of Kharkov was characteristic of the resentment
almost every Ukrainian official felt toward Moscow. The chairman was a
Ukrainian to the core, but he could not openly ignore our credentials
signed by Zinoviev and Lunacharsky. He promised to aid our efforts but
he disliked the idea of Petrograd "absorbing" the historic material
of the Ukraina. In Kiev there was no attempt to mask the opposition
to Moscow. One was made to feel it everywhere. But the moment the
magic word "America" was spoken and the people made to understand that
one was not a Communist, they became interested and courteous, even
confidential. The Ukrainian Communists were also no exception.
The information and documents collected in Kiev were of the same
character as the data gathered in former cities. The system of
education, care of the sick, distribution of labour and so forth were
similar to the general Bolshevik scheme. "We follow the Moscow plan,"
said a Ukrainian teacher, "with the only difference that in our schools
the Ukrainian language is taught together with Russian." The people,
and especially the children, looked better fed and clad than those of
Russia proper: food was comparatively more plentiful and cheaper. There
were show schools as in Petrograd and Moscow, and no one apparently
realized the corrupting effect of such discrimination upon the teachers
as well as the children. The latter looked with envy upon the pupils
of the favoured schools and believed that they were only for Communist
children, which in reality was not the case. The teachers, on the
other hand, knowing how little attention was paid to ordinary schools,
were negligent in their work. All tried to get a position in the show
schools which were enjoying special and varied rations.
The chairman of the Board of Health was an alert and competent man,
one of the few officials in Kiev who showed interest in the Expedition
and its work. He devoted much time to explaining to us the methods of
his organization and pointing out interesting places to visit and the
material which could be collected for the Museum. He especially called
our attention to the Jewish hospital for crippled children.
I found the latter in charge of a cultivated and charming man, Dr.
N----. For twenty years he had been head of the hospital and he took
interest as well as pride in showing us about his institution and
relating its history.
The hospital had formerly been one of the most famous in Russia, the
pride of the local Jews who had built and maintained it. But within
recent years its usefulness had become curtailed owing to the frequent
changes of government. It had been exposed to persecution and repeated
pogroms. Jewish patients critically ill were often forced out of their
beds to make room for the favourites of this or that régime. The
officers of the Denikin army were most brutal. They drove the Jewish
patients out into the street, subjected them to indignities and abuse,
and would have killed them had it not been for the intercession of the
hospital staff who at the risk of their own lives protected the sick.
It was only the fact that the majority of the staff were Gentiles that
saved the hospital and its inmates. But the shock resulted in numerous
deaths and many patients were left with shattered nerves.
The doctor also related to me the story of some of the patients,
most of them victims of the Fastov pogroms. Among them were children
between the ages of six and eight, gaunt and sickly looking, terror
stamped on their faces. They had lost all their kin, in some cases
the whole family having been killed before their eyes. These children
often waked at night, the physician said, in fright at their horrible
dreams. Everything possible was being done for them, but so far the
unfortunate children had not been freed from the memory of their
terrible experiences at Fastov. The doctor pointed out a group of young
girls between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, the worst victims of
the Denikin pogrom. All of them had been repeatedly outraged and were
in a mutilated state when they came to the hospital; it would take
years to restore them to health. The doctor emphasized the fact that
no pogroms had taken place during the Bolshevik régime. It was a great
relief to him and his staff to know that his patients were no longer
in such danger. But the hospital had other difficulties. There was the
constant interference by political Commissars and the daily struggle
for supplies. "I spend most of my time in the various bureaus," he
said, "instead of devoting myself to my patients. Ignorant officials
are given power over the medical profession, continuously harassing
the doctors in their work." The doctor himself had been repeatedly
arrested for sabotage because of his inability to comply with the
numerous decrees and orders, frequently mutually contradictory. It
was the result of a system in which political usefulness rather than
professional merit played the main rôle. It often happened that a
first-class physician of well-known repute and long experience would be
suddenly ordered to some distant part to place a Communist doctor in
his position. Under such conditions the best efforts were paralysed.
Moreover, there was the general suspicion of the _intelligentsia_,
which was a demoralizing factor. It was true that many of that
class had sabotaged, but there were also those who did heroic and
self-sacrificing work. The Bolsheviki, by their indiscriminate
antagonism toward the _intelligentsia_ as a class, roused prejudices
and passions which poisoned the mainsprings of the cultural life of
the country. The Russian _intelligentsia_ had with its very blood
fertilized the soil of the Revolution, yet it was not given it to reap
the fruits of its long struggle. "A tragic fate," the doctor remarked;
"unless one forget it in his work, existence would be impossible."
The institution for crippled children proved a very model and modern
hospital, located in the heart of a large park. It was devoted to the
marred creatures with twisted limbs and deformed bodies, victims of the
great war, disease, and famine. The children looked aged and withered;
like Father Time, they had been born old. They lay in rows on clean
white beds, baking in the warm sun of the Ukrainian summer. The head
physician, who guided us through the institution, seemed much beloved
by his little charges. They were eager and pleased to see him as he
approached each helpless child and bent over affectionately to make
some inquiries about its health. The hospital had been in existence
for many years and was considered the first of its kind in Russia. Its
equipment for the care of deformed and crippled children was among the
most modern. "Since the war and the Revolution we feel rather behind
the times," the doctor said; "we have been cut off from the civilized
world for so many years. But in spite of the various government changes
we have striven to keep up our standards and to help the unfortunate
victims of strife and disease." The supplies for the institution were
provided by the Government and the hospital force was exposed to no
interference, though I understood from the doctor that because of his
political neutrality he was looked upon by the Bolsheviki as inclined
to counter-revolution.
The hospital contained a large number of children; some of those who
could walk about studied music and art, and we had the opportunity
of attending an informal concert arranged by the children and their
teachers in our honour. Some of them played the _balalaika_ in a most
artistic manner, and it was consoling to see those marred children
finding forgetfulness in the rhythm of the folk melodies of the Ukraina.
Early during our stay in Kiev we learned that the most valuable
material for the Museum was not to be found in the Soviet institutions,
but that it was in the possession of other political groups and private
persons. The best statistical information on pogroms, for instance, was
in the hands of a former Minister of the Rada régime in the Ukraina.
I succeeded in locating the man and great was my surprise when, upon
learning my identity, he presented me with several copies of the
_Mother Earth_ magazine I had published in America. The ex-Minister
arranged a small gathering to which were invited some writers and poets
and men active in the Jewish _Kulturliga_ to meet several members
of our Expedition. The gathering consisted of the best elements of
the local Jewish _intelligentsia_. We discussed the Revolution, the
Bolshevik methods, and the Jewish problem. Most of those present,
though opposed to the Communist theories, were in favour of the Soviet
Government. They felt that the Bolsheviki, in spite of their many
blunders, were striving to further the interests of Russia and the
Revolution. At any rate, under the Communist régime the Jews were not
exposed to the pogroms practised upon them by all the other régimes
of Ukraina. Those Jewish intellectuals argued that the Bolsheviki at
least permitted the Jews to live, and that they were therefore to be
preferred to any other governments and should be supported by the
Jews. They were fearful of the growth of anti-Semitism in Russia and
were horrified at the possibility of the Bolsheviki being overthrown.
Wholesale slaughter of the Jews would undoubtedly follow, they believed.
Some of the younger set held a different view. The Bolshevik régime
had resulted in increased hatred toward the Jews, they said, for the
masses were under the impression that most of the Communists were Jews.
Communism stood for forcible tax-collection, punitive expeditions, and
the Tcheka. Popular opposition to the Communists therefore expressed
itself in the hatred of the whole Jewish race. Thus Bolshevik tyranny
had added fuel to the latent anti-Semitism of the Ukraina. Moreover,
to prove that they were not discriminating in favour of the Jews, the
Bolsheviki had gone to the other extreme and frequently arrested and
punished Jews for things that the Gentiles could do with impunity. The
Bolsheviki also fostered and endowed cultural work in the south in
the Ukrainian language, while at the same time they discouraged such
efforts in the Jewish language. It was true that the _Kulturliga_ was
still permitted to exist, but its work was hampered at every step.
In short, the Bolsheviki permitted the Jews to live, but only in a
physical sense. Culturally, they were condemned to death. The _Yevkom_
(Jewish Communist Section) was receiving, of course, every advantage
and support from the Government, but then its mission was to carry the
gospel of the proletarian dictatorship to the Jews of the Ukraina.
It was significant that the _Yevkom_ was more anti-Semitic than the
Ukrainians themselves. If it had the power it would pogrom every
non-Communist Jewish organization and destroy all Jewish educational
efforts. This young element emphasized that they did not favour the
overthrow of the Bolshevik Government; but they could not support it,
either.
I felt that both Jewish factions took a purely nationalistic view of
the Russian situation. I could well understand their personal attitude,
the result of their own suffering and the persecution of the Jewish
race. Still, my chief concern was the Revolution and its effects upon
Russia _as a whole_. Whether the Bolsheviki should be supported or not
could not depend merely on their attitude to the Jews and the Jewish
question. The latter was surely a very vital and pressing issue,
especially in the Ukraina; yet the general problem involved was much
greater. It embraced the complete economic and social emancipation of
the whole people of Russia, the Jews included. If the Bolshevik methods
and practices were not imposed upon them by the force of circumstances,
if they were conditioned in their own theories and principles, and if
their sole object was to secure their own power, I could not support
them. They might be innocent of pogroms against the Jews, but if they
were pogroming the whole of Russia then they had failed in their
mission as a revolutionary party. I was not prepared to say that I
had reached a clear understanding of all the problems involved, but
my experience so far led me to think that it was the basic Bolshevik
conception of the Revolution which was false, its practical application
necessarily resulting in the great Russian catastrophe of which the
Jewish tragedy was but a minor part.
My host and his friends could not agree with my viewpoint: we
represented opposite camps. But the gathering was nevertheless
intensely interesting and it was arranged that we meet again before our
departure from the city.
Returning to our car one day I saw a detachment of Red Army soldiers
at the railway station. On inquiry I found that foreign delegates were
expected from Moscow and that the soldiers had been ordered out to
participate in a demonstration in their honour. Groups of the uniformed
men stood about discussing the arrival of the mission. There were many
expressions of dissatisfaction because the soldiers had been kept
waiting so long. "These people come to Russia just to look us over,"
one of the Red Army men said; "do they know anything about us or are
they interested in how we live? Not they. It's a holiday for them. They
are dressed up and fed by the Government, but they never talk to us
and all they see is how we march past. Here we have been lying around
in the burning sun for hours while the delegates are probably being
feasted at some other station. That's comradeship and equality for you!"
I had heard such sentiments voiced before, but it was surprising to
hear them from soldiers. I thought of Angelica Balabanova, who was
accompanying the Italian Mission, and I wondered what she would think
if she knew how the men felt. It had probably never occurred to her
that those "ignorant Russian peasants" in military uniform had looked
through the sham of official demonstrations.
The following day we received an invitation from Balabanova to attend
a banquet given in honour of the Italian delegates. Anxious to meet
the foreign guests, several members of our Expedition accepted the
invitation.
The affair took place in the former Chamber of Commerce building,
profusely decorated for the occasion. In the main banquet hall long
tables were heavily laden with fresh-cut flowers, several varieties
of southern fruit, and wine. The sight reminded one of the feasts
of the old bourgeoisie, and I could see that Angelica felt rather
uncomfortable at the lavish display of silverware and wealth. The
banquet opened with the usual toasts, the guests drinking to Lenin,
Trotsky, the Red Army, and the Third International, the whole company
rising as the revolutionary anthem was intoned after each toast, with
the soldiers and officers standing at attention in good old military
style.
Among the delegates were two young French Anarcho-syndicalists. They
had heard of our presence in Kiev and had been looking for us all
day without being able to locate us. After the banquet they were
immediately to leave for Petrograd, so that we had only a short time at
our disposal. On our way to the station the delegates related that they
had collected much material on the Revolution which they intended to
publish in France. They had become convinced that all was not well with
the Bolshevik régime: they had come to realize that the dictatorship
of the proletariat was in the exclusive hands of the Communist Party,
while the common worker was enslaved as much as ever. It was their
intention, they said, to speak frankly about these matters to their
comrades at home and to substantiate their attitude by the material in
their possession. "Do you expect to get the documents out?" I asked La
Petit, one of the delegates. "You don't mean that I might be prevented
from taking out my own notes," he replied. "The Bolsheviki would not
dare to go so far--not with foreign delegates, at any rate." He seemed
so confident that I did not care to pursue the subject further. That
night the delegates left Kiev and a short time afterward they departed
from Russia. They were never seen alive again. Without making any
comment upon their disappearance I merely want to mention that when
I returned to Moscow several months later it was generally related
that the two Anarcho-syndicalists, with several other men who had
accompanied them, were overtaken by a storm somewhere off the coast of
Finland, and were all drowned. There were rumours of foul play, though
I am not inclined to credit the story, especially in view of the fact
that together with the Anarcho-syndicalists also perished a Communist
in good standing in Moscow. But their disappearance with all the
documents they had collected has never been satisfactorily explained.
The rooms assigned to the members of our Expedition were located in a
house within a _passage_ leading off the Kreschatik, the main street of
Kiev. It had formerly been the wealthy residential section of the city
and its fine houses, though lately neglected, still looked imposing.
The _passage_ also contained a number of shops, ruins of former glory,
which catered to the well-to-do of the neighbourhood. Those stores
still had good supplies of vegetables, fruit, milk, and butter. They
were owned mostly by old Jews whose energies could not be applied to
any other usefulness--Orthodox Jews to whom the Revolution and the
Bolsheviki were a _bête noire_, because that had "ruined all business."
The little shops barely enabled their owners to exist; moreover,
they were in constant danger of Tcheka raids, on which occasions the
provisions would be expropriated. The appearance of those stores did
not justify the belief that the Government would find it worth while
raiding them. "Would not the Tcheka prefer to confiscate the goods
of the big delicatessen and fruit stores on the Kreschatik?" I asked
an old Jew storekeeper. "Not at all," he replied; "those stores are
immune because they pay heavy taxes."
The morning following the banquet I went down to the little grocery
store I used to do my shopping in. The place was closed, and I was
surprised to find that not one of the small shops near by was open. Two
days later I learned that the places had all been raided on the eve of
the banquet in order to feast the foreign delegates. I promised myself
never to attend another Bolshevik banquet.
Among the members of the _Kulturliga_ I met a man who had lived in
America, but for several years now was with his family in Kiev. His
home proved one of the most hospitable during my stay in the south,
and as he had many callers belonging to various social classes I was
able to gather much information about the recent history of Ukraina.
My host was not a Communist: though critical of the Bolshevik régime,
he was by no means antagonistic. He used to say that the main fault of
the Bolsheviki was their lack of psychological perception. He asserted
that no government had ever such a great opportunity in the Ukraina
as the Communists. The people had suffered so much from the various
occupations and were so oppressed by every new régime that they
rejoiced when the Bolsheviki entered Kiev. Everybody hoped that they
would bring relief. But the Communists quickly destroyed all illusions.
Within a few months they proved themselves entirely incapable of
administering the affairs of the city; their methods antagonized the
people, and the terrorism of the Tcheka turned even the friends of the
Communists to bitter enmity. Nobody objected to the nationalization
of industry and it was of course expected that the Bolsheviki would
expropriate. But when the bourgeoisie had been relieved of its
possessions it was found that only the raiders benefited. Neither
the people at large nor even the proletarian class gained anything.
Precious jewellery, silverware, furs, practically the whole wealth of
Kiev seemed to disappear and was no more heard of. Later members of the
Tcheka strutted about the streets with their women gowned in the finery
of the bourgeoisie. When private business places were closed, the doors
were locked and sealed and guards placed there. But within a few weeks
the stores were found empty. This kind of "management" and the numerous
new laws and edicts, often mutually conflicting, served the Tcheka as a
pretext to terrorize and mulct the citizens and aroused general hatred
against the Bolsheviki. The people had turned against Petlura, Denikin,
and the Poles. They welcomed the Bolsheviki with open arms. But the
last disappointed them as the first.
"Now we have gotten used to the situation," my host said, "we just
drift and manage as best we can." But he thought it a pity that
the Bolsheviki lost such a great chance. They were unable to hold
the confidence of the people and to direct that confidence into
constructive channels. Not only had the Bolsheviki failed to operate
the big industries: they also destroyed the small _kustarnaya_ work.
There had been thousands of artisans in the province of Kiev, for
instance; most of them had worked by themselves, without exploiting
any one. They were independent producers who supplied a certain
need of the community. The Bolsheviki in their reckless scheme of
nationalization suspended those efforts without being able to replace
them by aught else. They had nothing to give either to the workers
or to the peasants. The city proletariat faced the alternative of
starving in the city or going back to the country. They preferred the
latter, of course. Those who could not get to the country engaged
in trade, buying and selling jewellery, for instance. Practically
everybody in Russia had become a tradesman, the Bolshevik Government
no less than private speculators. "You have no idea of the amount of
illicit business carried on by officials in Soviet institutions," my
host informed me; "nor is the army free from it. My nephew, a Red Army
officer, a Communist, has just returned from the Polish front. He can
tell you about these practices in the army."
I was particularly eager to talk to the young officer. In my travels I
had met many soldiers, and I found that most of them had retained the
old slave psychology and bowed absolutely to military discipline. Some,
however, were very wide awake and could see clearly what was happening
about them. A certain small element in the Red Army was entirely
transformed by the Revolution. It was proof of the gestation of new
life and new forms which set Russia apart from the rest of the world,
notwithstanding Bolshevik tyranny and oppression. For that element the
Revolution had a deep significance. They saw in it something vital
which even the daily decrees could not compress within the narrow
Communist mould. It was their attitude and general sentiment that the
Bolsheviki had not kept faith with the people. They saw the Communist
State growing at the cost of the Revolution, and some of them even
went so far as to voice the opinion that the Bolsheviki had become the
enemies of the Revolution. But they all felt that for the time being
they could do nothing. They were determined to dispose of the foreign
enemies first. "Then," they would say, "we will face the enemy at home."
The Red Army officer proved a fine-looking young fellow very deeply in
earnest. At first he was disinclined to talk, but in the course of the
evening he grew less embarrassed and expressed his feelings freely. He
had found much corruption at the front, he said. But it was even worse
at the base of supplies where he had done duty for some time. The men
at the front were practically without clothes or shoes. The food was
insufficient and the Army was ravaged by typhoid and cholera. Yet the
spirit of the men was wonderful. They fought bravely, enthusiastically,
because they believed in their ideal of a free Russia. But while they
were fighting and dying for the great cause, the higher officers,
the so-called _tovaristchi_, sat in safe retreat and there drank and
gambled and got rich by speculation. The supplies so desperately
needed at the front were being sold at fabulous prices to speculators.
The young officer had become so disheartened by the situation, he had
thought of committing suicide. But now he was determined to return to
the front. "I shall go back and tell my comrades what I have seen," he
said; "our real work will begin when we have defeated foreign invasion.
Then we shall go after those who are trading away the Revolution."
I felt there was no cause to despair so long as Russia possessed such
spirits.
I returned to my room to find our secretary waiting to report the
valuable find she had made. It consisted of rich Denikin material
stacked in the city library and apparently forgotten by everybody.
The librarian, a zealous Ukrainian nationalist, refused to permit the
"Russian" Museum to take the material, though it was of no use to Kiev,
literally buried in an obscure corner and exposed to danger and ruin.
We decided to appeal to the Department of Education and to apply the
"American amulet." It grew to be a standing joke among the members of
the Expedition to resort to the "amulet" in difficult situations. Such
matters were always referred to Alexander Berkman and myself as the
"Americans."
It required considerable persuasion to interest the chairman in the
matter. He persisted in refusing till I finally asked him: "Are you
willing that it become known in America that you prefer to have
valuable historical material rot away in Kiev rather than give it to
the Petrograd Museum, which is sure to become a world centre for the
study of the Russian Revolution and where Ukraina is to have such an
important part?" At last the chairman issued the required order and our
Expedition took possession of the material, to the great elation of our
secretary, to whom the Museum represented the most important interest
in life.
In the afternoon of the same day I was visited by a woman Anarchist
who was accompanied by a young peasant girl, confidentially introduced
as the wife of Makhno. My heart stood still for a moment: the presence
of that girl in Kiev meant certain death were she discovered by the
Bolsheviki. It also involved grave danger to my landlord and his
family, for in Communist Russia harbouring--even if unwittingly--a
member of the Makhno _povstantsi_ often incurred the worst
consequences. I expressed surprise at the young woman's recklessness in
thus walking into the very jaws of the enemy. But she explained that
Makhno was determined to reach us; he would trust no one else with the
message, and therefore she had volunteered to come. It was evident that
danger had lost all terror for her. "We have been living in constant
peril for years," she said simply.
Divested of her disguise, she revealed much beauty. She was a woman
of twenty-five, with a wealth of jet-black hair of striking lustre.
"Nestor had hoped that you and Alexander Berkman would manage to come,
but he waited in vain," she began. "Now he sent me to tell you about
the struggle he is waging and he hopes that you will make his purpose
known to the world outside." Late into the night she related the story
of Makhno which tallied in all important features with that told us
by the two Ukrainian visitors in Petrograd. She dwelt on the methods
employed by the Bolsheviki to eliminate Makhno and the agreements they
had repeatedly made with him, every one of which had been broken by
the Communists the moment immediate danger from invaders was over.
She spoke of the savage persecution of the members of the Makhno
army and of the numerous attempts of the Bolsheviki to trap and kill
Nestor. That failing, the Bolsheviki had murdered his brother and
had exterminated her own family, including her father and brother.
She praised the revolutionary devotion, the heroism and endurance
of the _povstantsi_ in the face of the greatest difficulties, and
she entertained us with the legends the peasants had woven about the
personality of Makhno. Thus, for instance, there grew up among the
country folk the belief that Makhno was invulnerable because he had
never been wounded during all the years of warfare, in spite of his
practice of always personally leading every charge.
She was a good conversationalist, and her tragic story was relieved by
bright touches of humour. She told many anecdotes about the exploits
of Makhno. Once he had caused a wedding to be celebrated in a village
occupied by the enemy. It was a gala affair, everybody attending. While
the people were making merry on the market place and the soldiers
were succumbing to the temptation of drink, Makhno's men surrounded
the village and easily routed the superior forces stationed there.
Having taken a town it was always Makhno's practice to compel the rich
peasants, the _kulaki_, to give up their surplus wealth, which was then
divided among the poor, Makhno keeping a share for his army. Then he
would call a meeting of the villagers, address them on the purposes of
the _povstantsi_ movement, and distribute his literature.
Late into the night the young woman related the story of Makhno and
_makhnovstchina_. Her voice, held low because of the danger of the
situation, was rich and mellow, her eyes shone with the intensity
of emotion. "Nestor wants you to tell the comrades of America and
Europe," she concluded, "that he is one of them--an Anarchist whose
aim is to defend the Revolution against all enemies. He is trying to
direct the innate rebellious spirit of the Ukrainian peasant into
organized Anarchist channels. He feels that he cannot accomplish it
himself without the aid of the Anarchists of Russia. He himself is
entirely occupied with military matters, and he has therefore invited
his comrades throughout the country to take charge of the educational
work. His ultimate plan is to take possession of a small territory in
Ukraina and there establish a free commune. Meanwhile, he is determined
to fight every reactionary force."
Makhno was very anxious to confer personally with Alexander Berkman
and myself, and he proposed the following plan. He would arrange to
take any small town or village between Kiev and Kharkov where our
car might happen to be. It would be carried out without any use of
violence, the place being captured by surprise. The stratagem would
have the appearance of our having been taken prisoners, and protection
would be guaranteed to the other members of the Expedition. After our
conference we would be given safe conduct to our car. It would at the
same time insure us against the Bolsheviki, for the whole scheme would
be carried out in military manner, similar to a regular Makhno raid.
The plan promised a very interesting adventure and we were anxious
for an opportunity to meet Makhno personally. Yet we could not expose
the other members of the Expedition to the risk involved in such an
undertaking. We decided not to avail ourselves of the offer, hoping
that another occasion might present itself to meet the _povstantsi_
leader.
Makhno's wife had been a country school teacher; she possessed
considerable information and was intensely interested in all cultural
problems. She plied me with questions about American women, whether
they had really become emancipated and enjoyed equal rights. The young
woman had been with Makhno and his army for several years, but she
could not reconcile herself to the primitive attitude of her people
in regard to woman. The Ukrainian woman, she said, was considered an
object of sex and motherhood only. Nestor himself was no exception
in this matter. Was it different in America? Did the American woman
believe in free motherhood and was she familiar with the subject of
birth control?
It was astonishing to hear such questions from a peasant girl. I
thought it most remarkable that a woman born and reared so far from
the scene of woman's struggle for emancipation should yet be so alive
to its problems. I spoke to the girl of the activities of the advanced
women of America, of their achievements and of the work yet to be
done for woman's emancipation. I mentioned some of the literature
dealing with these subjects. She listened eagerly. "I must get hold of
something to help our peasant women. They are just beasts of burden,"
she said.
Early the next morning we saw her safely out of the house. The same
day, while visiting the Anarchist club, I witnessed a peculiar sight.
The club had recently been reopened after having been raided by
the Tcheka. The local Anarchists met in the club rooms for study
and lectures; Anarchist literature was also to be had there. While
conversing with some friends I noticed a group of prisoners passing
on the street below. Just as they neared the Anarchist headquarters
several of them looked up, having evidently noticed the large sign over
the club rooms. Suddenly they straightened up, took off their caps,
bowed, and then passed on. I turned to my friends. "Those peasants are
probably _makhnovstsi_" they said; "the Anarchist headquarters are
sacred precincts to them." How exceptional the Russian soul, I thought,
wondering whether a group of American workers or farmers could be so
imbued with an ideal as to express it in the simple and significant
way the _makhnovstsi_ did. To the Russian his belief is indeed an
inspiration.
Our stay in Kiev was rich in varied experiences and impressions. It
was a strenuous time during which we met people of different social
strata and gathered much valuable information and material. We closed
our visit with a short trip on the river Dniepr to view some of the
old monasteries and cathedrals, among them the celebrated Sophievski
and Vladimir. Imposing edifices, which remained intact during all the
revolutionary changes, even their inner life continuing as before. In
one of the monasteries we enjoyed the hospitality of the sisters who
treated us to real Russian tea, black bread, and honey. They lived as
if nothing had happened in Russia since 1914; it was as if they had
passed the last years outside of the world. The monks still continued
to show to the curious the sacred caves of the Vladimir Cathedral and
the places where the saints had been walled in, their ossified bodies
now on exhibition. Visitors were daily taken through the vaults, the
accompanying priests pointing out the cells of the celebrated martyrs
and reciting the biographies of the most important of the holy family.
Some of the stories related were wonderful beyond all human credence,
breathing holy superstition with every pore. The Red Army soldiers in
our group looked rather dubious at the fantastic tales of the priests.
Evidently the Revolution had influenced their religious spirit and
developed a sceptical attitude toward miracle workers.