Borodin accompanied me to the Kremlin. On the way he said to me: “Just
remember that you are going to do the best bit of work to-day that you
have ever done.” I was anxious, rather, about the conditions of the room
and the light.
We went in by a special door, guarded by a sentry, and on the third
floor we went through several doors and passages, each guarded. As I was
expected, the sentries had received orders to let me pass. Finally, we
went through two rooms full of women secretaries. The last room
contained about five women at five tables, and they all looked at me
curiously, but they knew my errand. Here Michael handed me over to a
little hunchback, Lenin’s private secretary, and left me. She pointed to
a white baize door, and I went through. It did not latch, but merely
swung behind me.
Lenin was sitting at his desk. He rose and came across the room to greet
me. He has a genial manner and a kindly smile, which puts one instantly
at ease. He said that he had heard of me from Kameneff. I apologised for
having to bother him. He laughed and explained that the last sculptor
had occupied his room for weeks, and that he got so bored with it that
he had sworn that it never should happen again. He asked how long I
needed, and offered me to-day and to-morrow from 11 till 4, and three or
four evenings, if I could work by electric light. When I told him I
worked quickly and should probably not require so much, he said
laughingly that he was pleased.
My stand and things were then brought into the room by three soldiers,
and I established myself on the left. It was hard work, for he was lower
than the clay and did not revolve, nor did he keep still. But the room
was so peaceful, and he on the whole took so little notice of me, that
I worked with great calm till 3.45, without stopping for rest or food.
During that time he had but one interview, but the telephone was of
great assistance to me. When the low buzz accompanied by the lighting up
of a small electric bulb, signified a telephone call, his face lost the
dullness of repose and became animated and interesting. He gesticulated
to the telephone as though it understood.
I remarked on the comparative stillness of his room, and he laughed.
“Wait till there is a political discussion!” he said.
Secretaries came in at intervals with letters. He opened them, signed
the empty envelope, and gave it back, a form of receipt I suppose. Some
papers were brought him to sign, and he signed, but whilst looking at
something else instead of at his signature.
I asked him why he had women secretaries. He said because all the men
were at the war, and that caused us to talk of Poland. I understood that
peace with Poland had been signed yesterday, but he says not, that
forces are at work trying to upset the negotiations, and that the
position is very grave.
“Besides,” he said, “when we have settled Poland, we have got Wrangel.”
I asked if Wrangel was negligible, and he said that Wrangel counted
quite a bit, which is a different attitude from that adopted by the
other Russians I have met, who have laughed scornfully at the idea of
Wrangel.
We talked about H. G. Wells, and he said that the only book of his he
had read was “Joan and Peter,” but that he had not read it to the end.
He liked the description at the beginning of the English intellectual
bourgeois life. He admitted that he should have read, and regretted not
having read some of the earlier fantastic novels about wars in the air
and the world set free. I am told that Lenin manages to get through a
good deal of reading. On his desk was a volume by Chiozza Money. He
asked me if I had had any trouble in getting through to his room, and I
explained that Borodin had accompanied me. I then had the face to
suggest that Borodin, being an extremely intelligent man who can speak
good English, would make a good Ambassador to England when there is
Peace. Lenin looked at me with the most amused expression, his eyes
seemed to see right through me, and then said: “That would please
Monsieur Churchill wouldn’t it?” I asked if Winston was the most hated
Englishman. He shrugged his shoulders, and then added something about
Churchill being the man with all the force of the capitalists behind
him. We argued about that, but he did not want to hear my opinion, his
own being quite unshakable. He talked about Winston being my cousin, and
I said rather apologetically that I could not help it, and informed him
that I had another cousin who was a Sinn Feiner. He laughed, and said
“that must be a cheerful party when you three get together.” I suppose
it would be cheerful, but we have never all three been together!
During these four hours he never smoked, and never even drank a cup of
tea. I have never worked so long on end before, and at 3.45 I could hold
out no longer. I was blind with weariness and hunger, and said good-bye.
He promised to sit on the revolving stand to-morrow. If all goes well, I
think I ought to be able to finish him. I do hope it is good. I think it
looks more like him than any of the busts I have seen yet. He has a
curious Slav face, and looks very ill.
When I asked for news of England, he offered me the three latest “Daily
Heralds” he had, dated September 21, 22 and 23. I brought them back and
we all fell upon them, Russians and American alike. As for me, I have
spent a blissful evening reading about the Irish Rebellion and the
Miners’ dispute, as if it were yesterday’s news, and the Irene Munro and
Bamberger cases. Goodness, one feels as though one had looked through a
window and seen home on the horizon.
How tired I was; I had eaten nothing since 10 a.m. and dinner was not
until 9 p.m. In between I ate some of my English biscuits.