Pen Pictures of Russia Under the "Red Terror"; (Reminiscences of a Surreptitious Journey to Russia to Attend the Secon

Pen Pictures of Russia Under the "Red Terror"; (Reminiscences of a Surreptitious Journey to Russia to Attend the Secon

''"' ; •' ; y': : : '}' ' ;•'";; ' ..'.,-.' ;' ','••.; . ' ;-. -/ '}:;: . ...' ;U': M^- ^ ;; :a Pen Pictures of russia UNDER THE Red Terror ir- PEN PICTURES OF RUSSIA To my Friends and Co- Workers W. Gallacher and W. Paul PEN PICTURES OF RUSSIA Under the "Red Terror" (Reminiscences of a surreptitious journey to Russia to attend the Second Congress of the Third International) By JOHN S. CLARKE (Author of " Satires, Lyrics, and Poems ") With Forty-two Illustrations from Photographs taken by the Author and the Soviet Government °M Glasgow : National Workers' Committees, 31 North Frederick Street. 1921 ?m.ft& 7)(C CONTENTS. 1 CHAPTER. PAGE. I. The Home of the Vikings 9 II. On the Murman Coast 23 CO \Z III. O'er Russian Lapland 39 >- IV. In the Heart of Karelia 52 or 03 V. By Solovetski's Shrine 68 VI. Sowers in Seedtime - - 87 VII. Feodor Sergieff - - - - 102 *• VIII. The Corridors of Romance - - 116 - - So IX. The Serpent on the Rock 130 X. Patchwork and Petticoats - - 145 CJ XI. The Reveille of Revolt - - - 159 - - - ^x XII. The Ghosts of Golgotha 196 XIII. The Citadel of Hope - - - 216 XIV. " When Arms are Fair " - - - 239 XV. A Minstrelsy of Sorrow - - - 251 XVI. The Darkness before Dawn - - 272 XVII. A Petersburg Arcadia - - - 294 XVIII. Russland, Farewell! - * - 308 11279*7 ILLUSTRATIONS. ' ' PAGE. Frontispiece—Vladimir Ilytch Oulianoff (Lenin) The North Cape 15 The Murman Coast 19 Main Street, Murmansk 28 A Massacre at Kola 39 A Massacre near Imandra 46 A Massacre near Kovda 53 Kandalaska 60 Monastery of Solovetski 70 A Massacre at Maselskaya 76 Karelian Railway Line 77 A Peasant Student 90 F. Sergieff 104 Gregory Rasputin 110 St. Isaac's Cathedral and Review of Red Fleet ... 113 Smolny Institute 125 Peter the "Great" 135 Alexander Column 143 Military Training School, Petersburg 151 Alexandra Kollontay 157 Pershkovsky 168 Presidium of the Congress 170 Bombacci 173 Kalubanova 176 N. Bucharin 180 Boris Reinstein ... ... ... ... 184 Kroupskaya (Lenin's Wife) 193 St. Basil's, Moscow 198 John Reed 203 John Reed Dead 207 The Red Square 213 The Gate Ol the Redeemer (Kremlin) 218 Plan »>i the Kremlin in 1600 a.o. 222 The Kremlin 236 Salco and Ivan the Terrible 245 A LOBOVBky 269 Prince Yussopoff 279 Schlusselburg Fortress-Prison ... ... ... ... 283 D< traction ol Bchlusselnurg ... ... ... ... 291 Open-aii Theatre, Petersburg 302 \n Educated Peasanl 312 PEN PICTURES OF RUSSIA CHAPTER I. The Home of the Vikings "We kept our words: we carved out with our weapons a plenteous banquet for the wolves of the sea. The ships were all besmeared with crimson as if for many days the maidens had brought and poured forth wine. All rent was the mail in the clash of arms." —Dying Ode of Ragnar Lodbrog. BERGE1N, where it rams three hundred days out of three hundred and sixty-five, is surrounded by hills which frown down on the picturesque but dirty little seaport as tkough they threatened one day to close in and crush it out of existence. Built mainly of wood, like most Norwegian towns, it is continually being half destroyed by fire. Only recently the very heart of the town was completely gutted, and while we were there the workmen were busy making the new foundations for the re-erection of the build- ings. Bergen has rich musical associations. In the square opposite the Hotel Norge stands a beautifully constructed monument surmounted by a statue of Ole Bull, the violinist, and beyond the town near the Bergen-Christiania railway is the house of Grieg, the celebrated composer. From the top of the high hill to the north, which is ascended by means of the electric 10 PEN PICTURES OF RUSSIA. mountain railway, one looks down on the silver fjord winding like a ribbon through the rocky hills, with the city humming at its tail end. We spent about ten hours here, arriving at five in the morning and leaving again at three in the after- noon for the North on board the narrow-gutted miserable little tub, dignified only in name, s.s. Yesteraalen, which was to be our home for six and a half days. Our tribulations began from the moment we purchased our tickets After parting with the bulk of our slender funds, we found to our con- sternation that the passage-ticket was a passage- ticket, and did not include board during the week's journey. Moreover, we were too late to obtain a bed, and would, we were told, have to turn in on the deck. On reckoning up the few kroner in our possession we figured on living the simple life for one week as it had never been lived before. To make matters all the more unpleasant, we were already late for the opening of the Con- gress, and, fqr all we knew to the contrary, the comrade whom we were to approach at Vardo was already on his way to Moscow. If such was the case, then we laced the pro- spect- not a very enviable one of finding our- selves stranded and destitute on a small island away up in the' Arctic almost a day's sail beyond the North Cape. I can't say thai such a contingency depressed us unduly. We followed the scenery with in- terest, compared the fust stages with the moun- tainous lochs Of Scotland, and concluded thai Loch Lomond was a very beautiful miniature of what we were sailing upon at the moment. THE HOME OF THE VIKINGS. 11 Weird figures, shadowy forms thrown by the overhanging hills, danced fantastically over the ever-varying water. From deep green mottled with gold and silver, caused by the sun's flickers upon its surface, it passed to bright blue and sombre purple. As evening wore on we passed the open sea, and the July sun with flaming streamers turned the western sky to golden red, while ocean looked like a veritable cauldron of hell as it reflected back the blood-red glow of heaven. Such sunsets I have witnessed before at the Cape of Good Hope in the Pacific and behind the Isle of Arran, but they do not occur often. We watched it somewhat sadly, for it appeared to hover above Scotland, until the gorgeous page- antry of colour disappeared and the moonless, starless night filled " that inverted bowl we call the sky." On through fjord after fjord the little boat wound its course, hemmed in by gigantic rocks, bereft in most cases of any kind of the higher vegetation, and gliding down below the now black-looking water three hundred fathoms deep. We called at Floro that night, and next morn- ing arrived at Aalesund, nestling under a moun- tainous rock at the confluence of two noble fjords. Aalesund is one of the most important fishing stations in western Norway, but it is interesting for another reason. Somewhere in the vicinity, about one thousand years ago, a great uneasiness manifested itself here. Fires flared from the hill tops, horns sent forth their strident rallying calls, and in the huge — 12 PEN PICTURES OF RUSSIA. shelters that did duty in those days for houses the mead was brewed for the last carousel, the last great wassail held by Rolf the Ganger and his berserk vikings, ere they departed from their parsimonious rock-bound Norway to capture the smiling plains and fertile fields of Northern France. One could gaze down and across the blue island-dotted fjord and picture the high- prowed craft with their single sails, their sweep- ing oars and " bord " covered sides, threading away on the great adventure, while high o'er the shrieking of the multitudes of sea-birds, the sing- ing of the steer-men with the wild barbaric chorus of the warriors, would creep back from the dead centuries: " We fought at Reyjovik, We fought with swords! We fought with battleaxes! I killed the mighty and valiant Gunstadt my enemy! I slew him with the sword: I killed the terrible one: Now I drink from his skull. Ha! ha! my enemy's skull." So they sang, as the fierce Ragnar Lodbrog snug and as their own brutal overlord, Harold Harfager, sang, till the battle frenzy seized them; thru, as they plunged from their ships with the savage howls of maddened beasts athirst for blood, with homed headdress and sealed armour tin' be- to terrify and protect, it was Cod help nighted foemen who flared resist though they outnumbered these warriors tenfold. blonde To-daj their descendants, the blue-eyed, of the const, giants one meets with ;il every turn nil "iimke their home on the sea." The THE HOME OF THE VIKINGS. 13 Bea is in the Scandinavian blood, and one has only to wind in and out of that perplexing- labyrinth of island-strewn and rock-bound chan- nels, which stretch for over a thousand miles along Norway's edge, to understand why these people are still the most skilful mariners on the globe. There is a population of only two and a half millions in all Norway, including Lapps and Finns, living in small wooden towns connected only by road or water passages, yet their organ- ised rebel movement can maintain twenty-two Socialist dailies beside weekly, bi-weekly, and monthly organs. That afternoon, during the brightest time of the day, we reached Molde, one of the loveliest spots in all Norway. It stands at the confluence of the Molde and Romsdal Fjords, crowned with luxuriantly wooded heights, on which, here and there, one can see a mansion peeping from the trees. Opposite the beautiful little village and across the fjord there stretches a magnificent range of snowy-crested mountains — the valley of the Romsdal — with the majestic sharp-toothed Romsdalshom penetrating the sky like a minia- ture Matterhorn.

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