_By Hector Boon._
Copyright, 1921, by the Press Publishing Co. (The New York World).
The negotiations I have just described had taken about ten days, and
during this time there had been several fresh arrivals at No. 10,
notably Boni, the correspondent of the New York Sun, who was later
thrown into jail because it was alleged he evinced too much interest in
the affairs of the Third Internationale. He attended the opening of the
conference in Petrograd as the guest of Radek, the Bolshevik editor.
Shortly before the advent of Boni, Mrs. Harding, an Englishwoman, the
correspondent of The New York World, arrived. She was in the house
exactly four hours, during which time Rozinzki, formerly a tailor in the
East End of London and now a spy for the Vetchika, never left her side.
On the pretext that she was to be lodged in another guest house, she was
taken off in a motor car, accompanied by Mogilevski, and driven straight
to the Vetchika and placed in solitary confinement.
Others Thrown Into Prison.
The same treatment was later meted out to two American correspondents,
Estes and Flick, who on their arrival in Moscow were driven direct from
the station to the Vetchika, where they were thrown into prison and were
still there, in a semistarving condition, when I left Moscow. As in the
case of Mrs. Harding, they obtained the Soviet power’s permission to
enter Russia before they left Reval.
The Italian correspondent, Pennuncio, who stayed while in Moscow at No.
10, also had a dose of prison. It seems that an article appeared in his
newspaper which dealt with the morale of the Red Army. Without troubling
to inquire whether this had been written by him, they threw Pennuncio
into prison and kept him there for ten days.
In arranging for my passport to be visaed for England I came into close
contact with the Foreign Office, and in particular with one Rosenberg, a
Jew, who had spent several years in London as a master tailor in an East
End sweatshop. In 1917 he was secretary to Raymond Robins of the
American Red Cross in Petrograd. When I arrived in Moscow he was in
charge of the Western Section of the Foreign Office, and as the agent of
the Vetchika had the handling of all foreigners in Russia.
This man is without exception the most unpleasant individual I met
during my stay in Soviet Russia. He was invariably rude to every one,
ofttimes insolent, consumed with his own importance, and violently
anti-English, the country which for years had given him an asylum.
When some American friends of mine were arrested on an absurd charge and
thrown into prison I ventured to address a letter of protest to
Chicherin, the Commissary for Foreign Affairs. This letter came into the
hands of Rosenberg, who threatened me with imprisonment for insulting
the Soviet Government. I reminded him that I was in Moscow under the
protection of his Government’s safe conduct, to which he was pleased to
reply that that would not keep me out of prison.
This Threat Effective.
The situation appeared to call for bluff, so I invited him to put me in
prison and assured him that within twenty-four hours of my arrest
Comrade Krassin (the Soviet’s representative in England) would find
himself in prison in London. The threat was effective, for during the
whole of my enforced stay of three months in Moscow I retained my
liberty. I need hardly say that I do not believe that the English
Government would have arrested Krassin or that they would have done
anything for me if I had been arrested.
Once upon a time the British Government was a by-word among the nations
of the earth for the promptness with which it protected its nationals.
To-day the British Government has so little regard for its own dignity
that it carries on negotiations with a gang of marauders while its
nationals are being ill treated by them, and even appears anxious to
elevate that gang to the dignity of a de facto Government. At any rate
this is the feeling of those unfortunates who were allowed to starve in
prison in Moscow while Krassin was enjoying the comfort of his office on
the “Bondski Prospect” and revelling in the luxury of his quarters in
Curzon Street, Mayfair.
Repulsed by Krassin.
Just as I was preparing to leave for London Krassin returned to Moscow
and I postponed my departure in order to see him. Two days after his
arrival I interviewed him in his office at the Foreign Trade Department.
He was very full of his supposed success in London, assured me that the
trading agreement would be signed and speedily followed by complete
recognition of the Soviet Government and went on to tell me that he
would have no dealings, direct or indirect, with American merchants
until the United States Government fully recognized the Soviet.
He remained adamant on this point but suggested that I should see him
again on my return to London. Krassin impressed me as a very shrewd
business man, quite unscrupulous and ready to adopt any means to an end.
His personal conceit is colossal and he demonstrated it in many ways at
this interview.
When he attended a meeting of the Supreme Economic Council, which was
held during his stay in Moscow, he was questioned by an ardent Communist
as to why he proposed to give away Russia’s riches to British
concessionaires. His repay was typical of the man.
“Never mind,” he said. “Don’t fear; we shall give away nothing. We shall
get the concessionaires to put in their money, experience and machinery,
and when they have done that we will hang them.” This illuminating
incident was related to me by a man who was present at the meeting, a
man whose reputation is beyond question.
Lived in Commissar’s House.
Almost immediately after this interview with Krassin, and when the
Bolsheviks realized that they had nothing to gain from me, I was ordered
to vacate my room at “The House of Spies,” viz: No. 10, at two hours’
notice. This was the work of Rosenberg, but he cut off his nose to spite
his face, for during the rest of my stay in Moscow I lived in places
where there were no guards on the doors or aristocratic spies to entice
me into making counter-revolutionary statements.
As the Bolsheviks made no effort to provide me with other quarters I was
forced to live in a friendly Commissar’s car at the railway station,
which was then waiting to take him back to Siberia. I remained in the
car for a week and then found a room in an apartment house on the
Kuznetzki Most, the Bond Street of Moscow. The house, which was tenanted
chiefly by Soviet employees, was indescribably dirty and verminous.
It was only when, after having been forced to leave No. 10, I had to
provide my own meals that I realized what it cost to feed oneself even
in the most frugal manner. Taking the exchange current at that time,
viz.: 2,500 roubles to the dollar, and converting the rouble prices into
their American equivalent, black bread cost 25 cents a pound, white
bread $1, butter $2.50, rice $1, meat 50 cents, sugar $2.50, tea $6 and
potatoes, which were comparatively cheap, 4 cents a pound.
The foregoing are so-called speculative prices for foodstuffs which are
purchasable on the market, whereas the Soviet prices for food obtainable
with cards are only a fraction of these.
Buying and selling, except by and to the State, is illegal and the
market itself is an illegal institution. As, however, it provides a
source of large illicit income to the Commissars of the Emchika (Moscow
Extraordinary Commission) it is allowed to operate. The only sellers on
the market who are not subject to sudden arrest are those who have an
understanding with the Commissars and pay them a regular fixed sum per
month for their protection.
The market is raided by the soldiers of the Emchika daily. The arrests
per raid average about 60 persons, buyers and sellers. The arrested are
herded from the market to the point of preliminary inspection, which is
in close proximity to the market place. Here those who are able to make
it worth the while of the examining Commissars are set at liberty after
their goods have been confiscated; those less fortunate are thrown into
prison where they remain sometimes for months without ever being brought
before the semblance of a court.