title: Under the Bolshevik reign of terror,
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V 'T^* jr % V. ,. av * »v „ <> A *' • °* c\ <9 • ° ^rv A * z_Wlk!j% • %<. A 1 ' * .K\S» A.° ^ c.^ ♦ v*s. v * -“f ^ --™- - * ( 4 ' A^ ^ * O » i * (fi -O ^ ^ * Q B J 1 .iA .* VL" % e° v ** jA .•‘I!., ^ V 4°*V V ♦ rk A * ’’ o° +* *..-... a- * /A * • *«.* •* A'Co : * <s> ^ • aCt vb, + ^Vi» A ^ A ... ... Kc * A ^ ° ; v* v • cP vP ^ j» 'Ca, » * Py ^ - 4 0 ^ \/ ‘‘ °o ‘*TTi‘‘ a?- A. jy.^L^ \ ^ ^ : % UNDER THE BOLSHEVIK REIGN OF TERROR UNDER THE BOLSHEVIK REIGN OF TERROR BY RHODA POWER NEW YORK McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY, LTD. First Published ifi igjg By Transfer 0. C. Public Library APR 1 0 1935 b & t DEC 2 4 1919 "SlD®Q©roo , f0 mmsta* o \ DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA PROPERTY TRANSFERRED from bublic library TO J. C. H. (ECCLESHALL) IN WHOSE HOUSE. THERE IS PEACE I desire to tender my thanks to the Editors of “The Englishwoman” and “The Fortnightly Review,” who have kindly allowed me to include in this book extracts from articles which have already, appeared in print. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-  V. A JOURNEY AND A HOLIDAY - 83 VI. AN AUTUMN OF ANXIETY - - 105 VII. CIVIL WAR - - - 124 VIII. UNDER COSSACK PROTECTION - 145 IX. ENTER THE BOLSHEVIKS - - 164 X. UNDER BOLSHEVIK RULE  names of private people in this booh are fictitious When a taunt Was taken up by scoffers in their pride, Baying, ‘' Behold the harvest that we reap From popular government and equality,” I clearly saw that neither these nor aught Of wild belief engrafted on their names By false philosophy, had caused the woe, But a terrific reservoir of guilt And ignorance filled up from age to age, That could no longer hold its loathsome charge, But burst and spread in deluge through the land. —Wordsworth: “ The Prelude. UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK CHAPTER I FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON HO is for Russia ? ” The sergeant in charge of the room walked up and down collecting passports. The little steamship “ Jupiter ” was to sail that night for Bergen, and the passengers, stamping their feet to warm them, waited in a building on the Norwegian wharf at Newcastle and won¬ dered when all the formalities would finish. The air was chilly in spite of the big coal fire in one corner of the room, and the January mist penetrated the closed 2 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK windows so that everything was seen through a thin grey haze. To go to Russia had, for years, been one of my dreams, and now the very atmosphere of the room, the strange, heterogeneous col¬ lection of passengers who looked so un¬ substantial in the mist, the vague sil¬ houette of the ship growing out of the darkness and only distinguishable if one pressed against the window pane, had all the quality of a dream. The cross- examination in a private office, when military authorities asked questions almost Chestertonian in their unexpectedness, was also like part of a dream. “ Did you ever have a brother who lived at Folkestone ? 55 said the clerk, pointing a forefinger at me. Sunday, in the “ Man who was Thursday, 5 ’ would have answered by whispering mysteriously, “ The word I fancy should be pink , 55 or “ Fly, the truth is known about your trouser-stretchers , 55 and in a FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON 8 dream the reply would have been quite satisfactory, so I laughed when I thought of it, and the clerk laughed too, almost as though I had given voice to my idea, and the cross-examination proceeded in such a friendly way that I was allowed to embark within five minutes. My berth-companion on the “Jupiter” was solid enough in appearance, but she was hardly the sort of person one would expect to be going to Russia while a European War was in progress, and so she too was one of the dream-people. She made friends with me at once. “ Goin’ out to Russia, are you ? Well, now, fancy that, so am I. Coin’ to be married, I s’pose, aren’t you ? To think of ’im letting you go all that way by yourself. Downright wicked I call it.” Then, in a wheedling tone, “ What’s ’e like, dearie; blue eyes ? ” I hastily disclaimed the fictitious fiance, and she 4 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK seemed so disappointed when I said that I was going out to teach English and to learn Russian, that I felt I had not quite played the game, and did my best to entertain her till it was time to go to bed. She amazed me by undressing com¬ pletely and putting on a flimsy beribboned nightgown. “ The North Sea is in the danger zone,” I said. “ Now, don’t you worry about submarines—we’ve no call to be afraid. The Germans have shares in all these big companies —that’s a better safeguard than a life-belt.” And with this comforting reflection she fell asleep. We reached Bergen when the sun was rising and the snow-covered hills were pink-tipped, and we waited for an hour in a cold wooden shed while the customs officials examined the luggage. Mrs. Maine, my travelling companion, shivered. “ What we need is a glass of bubbly water,” she said; 44 that’d buck us up. FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON 5 But, come on, dearie, we must find Cooks’ man and fix up about our places in the train.” Cooks’ man, a merry little fellow with hair like hoar frost and twinkling blue eyes, had seen us and came hurrying towards the ticket office. He made all our arrangements, talking unceasingly in broken English, while Mrs. Maine looked at him. She had a trick of holding her muff up to her chin and peering over it with an expression of intense surprise. She did this now, and reminded me of some one playing at “ Peep-bo ” with a baby. The man suggested that we should go to the hotel and rest, but Mrs. Maine shook her head. “ We’ll stick to him through thick and thin,” she said to me, “ in case anything goes wrong. Come on, dearie, we’ll do as they do in the ’alls, ‘follow the man from Cooks’.’” And it took me quite ten minutes to persuade her 6 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK that it would b© more interesting to explore Bergen than to remain at the ticket office from ten till four. The time passed quickly, and when we had wandered through the town and climbed the hill so as to see the harbour from a height, we dined at the hotel and returned to the station. The train had arrived, and we took our places in the little half-coupe, where there was scarcely room to move, and at dusk w r e set out for Christiania. It was very cold, and all the water in the pipes froze, and every now and then the train, which could only crawl along slowly, stopped altogether. Snow fell. Sometimes soft, feathery forms floated quietly and mono¬ tonously to the ground, sometimes a rushing tornado of flakes spun madly round and round like the ghosts of fallen leaves whirling in a wild dance with the wind. When the storm had cleared I FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON 7 stood outside on the platform between the carriages, and we glided in and out of little towns, where the houses were painted green, red, and blue, and through forests of dark pine-trees with branches snow-laden and heavy. I watched the silver birches, slender and graceful, sway as we passed. They stood together, slim figures glimmering in the sun, like dainty brocade-clad ladies who curtsied, bending their powdered heads. The Norwegians were friendly and kind to us, but the Swedish seemed hostile. “ Do you speak English ? ” we asked. They made no answer. “ Parlez-vous Fran 9 ais alors ? ” Again we received no reply. In desperation we tried “ Sprechen sie Deutsch ? ” and “Natiirlich” they said crossly. The officials at the frontier towm were brusque. u Acid tablets, that’s what I call them,” said Mrs. Maine, as they rumpled the contents 8 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK of her trunk. 4 4 If you write a book about this, you must put in all these details.” She suddenly gurgled with laughter as a fat customs official with gold braid round his hat extracted half a bottle of whisky from her suit-case. 44 ’Ere, young man, that’s private, that is. My l did you ever see such a ticket ? Dot ’im in your book, dearie.” It was a little difficult to obtain food on the way, and although we were sup¬ plied with bread-tickets it was not always possible to buy the bread. We got all our meals at small wayside stations, where we sat at dirty tables and took whatever happened to be before us. On these occasions there was a regular stampede across the snow, and people had no regard whatever for one another. Mrs. Maine pushed every one, out of her way, keeping a firm hold on my wrist all the while. 44 ’Ere, you,” she said, tapping FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON 9 with her muff the people who incommoded her, “ a little less elbow and a little more manners, if you please.” It was only through her help that I managed to get a satisfactory amount to eat. On the fourth day we reached Hapa- randa, the last town in Sweden, three hours late, and after a lengthy* customs examination registered the luggage and drove in a sleigh to Tornea. The river was frozen so that we could drive over the route which is crossed by steamer in the summer. It was bitterly cold and the breath froze in one’s nostrils. Our driver kept turning to look at us. He wore a thick, padded coat, a sheepskin hat, and boots made of some kind of skin. We passed a weary time at Tornea. After our luggage had been opened and carefully examined we were shut for five hours in a detention shed until the train arrived. One of the third-class passengers, 10 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK a Russian sailor on his way home, fainted from exhaustion, and we subsequently learnt that he had had no food for two da} r s, and had walked across the frozen river in boots which had let in the snow till his feet were blue and stiff with cold. We warmed him at the stove, and gave him hot coffee, and he prayed God to bless us and bring us good fortune. Our journey to Petrograd was unevent¬ ful and slow. We arrived at four o’clock in the morning. The temperature was icy and there were no porters or sleighs, so that many of the passengers had to spend the night in the waiting-rooms. Fortunately I was met, and motored to an hotel, where I slept far into the next morning. Petrograd, with its white, snow-covered streets, golden-domed churches, and gay little sleighs, was a veritable Fairyland, and I spent four days wandering round FROM NEWCASTLE TO ROSTOV-ON-DON 11 the town; sometimes going into the churches to see the pictures and mosaics, sometimes listening to the singing, which was more beautiful than any sacred music I had ever heard. I watched the long¬ haired priests in their vestments, bowing at the altar, swinging their censers to and fro, and occasionally stopping the service as they took little combs from their pockets to arrange their tangled locks. I passed through street after street, sitting in a sleigh behind a broad-backed coach¬ man, who was dressed in a padded blue coat and a fur cap. I listened to the deep-toned bells of St. Isaac’s, and saw the Winter Palace gleaming in its setting of snow. It was with regret that I tore myself away from this wonderful city. But tickets for the south-going trains were sometimes difficult to get, because many people were leaving the capital owing 12 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK to the food problem, and they booked their places in advance, so that I had to seize whatever opportunity presented itself. It took three days to reach Rostov, and I spent most of the tim e looking out of the window at the wide spaces and tracks of forest-land, and wondering whether the Sabaroffs, with whom I was going to live, would prove agreeable companions. There were only three people in the carriage beside myself, but it was airless, as the double glass windows would not open, and I was glad when the train pulled up, though the station was half under water and the waiting-room, crowded with dirty peasants, smelt of stale sausage. CHAPTER II A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD R OSTOV - ON - THE-DON cannot be l. described as a typical Russian town, though possibly it is quite a good example of a South Russian trading centre. When I had been there for some weeks I realized that there were more Greeks, Armenians, and Southern Jews than Russians and Cossacks, and that society was divided into numberless cliques. The Jews, many of whom were said to have become rich since the out¬ break of the European War, were admitted into society, but were considered “ out¬ siders,” and invited to few of the big social functions. This, however, hardly affected them, as they were sufficiently 14 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK numerous to organize their own enter¬ tainments. For an Englishwoman, ac¬ customed to freedom of opinion and toleration regarding religious sects, the attitude of the Russian bourgeoisie and peasantry towards the Jews was amazing. The peasants quite frankly hated them and made no bones about it. If one mentioned a Jew by name they used to spit on the ground. The better educated classes also despised them, and though they invited the good families to dinner on rare occasions, they seldom had their own friends to meet them. “ Who played tennis with you to-day ? ” I once asked my pupil. “ Oh, Peter Petrovitch, Marie Vassilovna, and a Jew.” He was not worth mentioning by name. The Greeks for the most part had lived in the town for many years and had become quite Russianized, some of them being unable to speak their mother tongue. Others, A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 15 however, still preserved Greek customs, had their own native servants, and ate the usual Greek dishes when they could procure the proper ingredients. One family, consisting of nine girls, the eldest of whom was twenty-six and the youngest six, were brought up with the old Greek idea of the dependence of women, and could never leave the house without first obtaining permission from their father, who required to know exactly where they were going and when they would return. If both father and mother were out they were obliged to remain at home until their parents returned. The elite of Rostov society lived in big houses off the main street, which w^as flanked on either side by fashionable shops and led to the public garden. Their rooms always struck me as being intensely uncomfortable and formal in appearance. One missed the friendly 16 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK hearth of the English houses. The petch (stove), tiled and forming a portion of the wall, gave plenty of heat but was cheer¬ less. The atmosphere, too, was un¬ pleasantly hot, as in the winter the double-paned windows were tightly closed and every crack sealed with paper so that the cold air, could not penetrate. Each room had its icon placed high up in the corner near the ceiling, and whenever an orthodox family migrated to a new house the priest was invited to bless the rooms, after which there was much feasting. The wedding icon, given to the owners of the house on their mar¬ riage, hung in their bedroom, and was usually exquisitely decorated with pearls. The richer the family the more beautiful was the icon. A little lamp burnt before it night and day, and was only extinguished for the purpose of replacing the wick. I was a foreigner, so there was A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 17 no icon in my room, but the old nurse took my little Medici print of St. Francis preaching to the birds and hung it at the head of my bed. She called it “ the stranger’s religion ” and crossed herself whenever she dusted it. I loved this sweet, withered old woman, who suffered so much and so patiently. She was almost blind and crippled with rheumatism, due, she told me, to having been obliged to sleep on the floor outside a nervous mistress’s door. She wondered at my indignation and explained carefully, “ But she was my mistress, barishnia, and unless I was there she was afraid to sleep.” She took a strange fancy to me and mothered me when I was ill, but sometimes her ministrations were pre¬ judicial to my recovery. I shall never forget the day I was suffering from sick¬ ness and she brought me a flabby pancake followed by a plate of thin soup, floating 18 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK in which was a fish’s head with bulging white eyes. When the family was at the theatre she used to wander into my room and talk by the hour, telling me of her life in the Cossack village, and how, when she was fifteen, her mother-in-law had proved such a hard task-mistress that she had tried to drown herself in the well. She always wanted to know r what we had to eat, and when I told her she threw up her hands in horror, exclaiming, “ Ei, ei! What would become of me there ? You must not go back, my little one.” She was amazed when I told her how much I disliked dining at three in the afternoon after lunching at one. Her pride in living in a place like Rostov, where there were so many large houses, was rather pathetic. She called it “ our town.” The appearance of “ our town ” was curious, and gave one the same impressions A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 10 as a picture by a cubist. Coloured oleographs of the Tsar and other 20 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK prints were nailed to the walls, and every cottage had its holy pictures and icon. The bed, when there was one, seemed to be an object of care, and the blanket was almost invariably neatly folded and the pillow hidden by a cover richly embroidered in red and blue cross-stitch. The samovar had a place of state in the corner, and there was generally a big flat stove on which the chilly old folk used to sleep. The shops, too, had much the same effect as the houses. Big, fashionable bazaars stood next to tiny stores built a little way back from the pavement and floored with stones between which earth and grass peeped. These little insig¬ nificant places were often owned by quite rich Greek fruiterers, and sometimes one could buy from them what the larger and more fashionable shops could not supply. Outside each shop there was a A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 21 coloured wooden board on which various goods for sale within were painted, execrably out of drawing and crude, but useful to the bewildered foreigner, who could lead the salesman outside and point to the object she desired, uttering without more ado the simple word “ dyti ” (give). Shopping in Russia could be very com¬ plicated when one did not know the language. Words with totally different meanings, but very much alike in form, were always leading one astray. For instance, I strode confidently into a shop and asked the astonished man for a “ little thief ” (voreshka). I explained haltingly that I required it for parcels, and it was only after I had exercised my pantomimic powers to the utmost that he guffawed loudly, and gave me a piece of string (verovka). There were three markets in Rostov, where one could buy anything from wooden toys to house- 22 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK linen, and it was amusing to do one’s shopping there in the early morning when the poor people were driving hard bar¬ gains. The peasants, wrapped in thick coats or leather shoobas lined with sheep¬ skin, stood behind their booths under wooden shelters, stamping their feet on boards thrown down to protect them from the snow, and chattering like rooks. “ Come, barishnia. These apples are the best, and cheap, but the cheapest in Russia.” “ No, no, little aunt, these are all spotted with blight.” “ Tfuh ! ” (spitting). “The bourguika does not know what is good ”—and her neighbour, “ Come to me, take my apples, dear.” “ Now, look here, those are polished on this side and bruised at the back.” “ Bruised ! Boje moy! the little dove does not know the colour of an apple.” And so on until one was eventually obliged to take a very inferior article at an A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 28 exorbitant price, for which one had bargained for about ten minutes. The second-hand clothing store was patronized more than other booths, and I am quite sure that if some rich mistress were to have risen early and gone to the market she would have found many a silk petti¬ coat and crepe de Chine blouse which she had long missed from her cupboard, for the servants were badly paid and took advantage of unlocked drawers. I was very sorry for the servants: they led such uncomfortable lives; and though they nearly all seemed to be thieves and liars I could not help liking them. They spoke in such musical sing-song voices, used such quaint phraseology, and were so easily amused and haphazard, and had such an unshakable belief in the gadalka (fortune-teller), whom they con¬ sulted whenever they were in love or had lost something. They were not particu- 24 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK larly well treated, unless they happened to be living with cultured people, and many of them had no bedrooms, but slept rolled up in shawls on the kitchen table or sometimes on the floor. They were not supplied with bedding, as it was generally supposed they would sell any¬ thing of which they had the use. They rarely undressed, and slept in their every¬ day clothes, and sometimes in the long felt top boots which they wore in the streets. Many of them went about their tasks barefooted because shoes were so expensive, and they did not earn enough to buy new ones. They were rarely clean and always untidy. Uniform seemed only to be worn by parlourmaids, who were seen by visitors and so had to look neat. The cook was called by her fellow- servants “ Little Mother,” the laundress “ Aunt,” and the old nurse, 44 Grand¬ mother ” ; and they cuffed the young A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 25 housemaids and screamed at them till I sometimes thought their lives must be hardly worth living. There was a general understanding among them that the younger ones should help their elders to cheat the master and mistress, and should say nothing when the laundress used the household soap for washing her friends’ linen (at a fixed price), provided she occasionally ironed a blouse or two for the girls. The cook thought nothing of telling her mistress that food was double its actual price, and pocketing the extra money given her to pay the market women. She kept the younger servants’ tongues quiet by stealing sugar for them and sometimes baking them cakes. On the whole, they were fed pretty well, though it was difficult to procure a variety. Hardly a servant in the town could read or write, and they spent their spare time playing cards or sewing a little, but often sitting with their hands in their laps doing nothing at all. We had a charming little housemaid, twenty-one years of age, with a rosy, laughing face, and roguish brown eyes. She was rather more intel¬ ligent than the others, and had bought a child’s copy-book, and, after dinner, used to sit in the greenhouse, her tongue between her teeth, her fist crumpled like a baby’s, laboriously copying up-strokes and down-strokes. I doubt, however, if she knew what the hieroglyphics re¬ presented. She was married and had a child of four, but as her husband was at the Front she had drifted into domestic service, leaving the child with her mother- A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 27 in-law. Her name was Aniuta, and because^ she was married she imagined that she was wiser than the other servants, and could do things better. She called them scornfully “ those girls,” and she was the youngest of all. “ I, I have been married five years. I know the world. Those girls, how can one expect them to work well; they know nothing. Pah! they are more ignorant than the dogs in the yard.” And with a toss of her brown head and a swirl of her red cotton skirt she would return to her copy-book. She left us after a few weeks with a little cardboard box in one hand and her wages in the other. Her husband had come back from the Front, followed her from her native village to Rostov, presented her with a railway ticket, and ordered her to return with him. Aniuta was overwhelmed. “ But think, barishnia, I know him not. I 28 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK know not his ways, his habits. I am not used to him, and now has he not a beard ? But it is impossible.” And she refused to go. I heard afterwards that he took her by the ear and asked her how many “ cavaliers ” she had at Rostov, and she, hunching her shoulder because of the pain, said she would rather flirt with ten cavaliers than live with one animal. Nevertheless, she went away with the animal, and “ those girls ” laughed at her from the kitchen window. The men-servants were picturesque creatures and delightful liars. The explanations they offered for the dis¬ appearance of articles which they had undoubtedly stolen caused me to have the liveliest respect for their ingenuity. The storoj, who guarded the house at night, and the dvornik, who swept out the yard and did odd jobs, were great friends. They had a code of knocks on A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 29 the wall by which they used to wake one another, and when the rest of the household slept Dmetri, the dvornik, used to creep to the garden gate with anything he happened to have pilfered, and pass it through the bars to the storoj, who sold it to some of his cronies waiting in the road, and shared the booty with Dmetri. Of course they drank, not vodka, for it was difficult to get, but a sort of alcoholic furniture polish which had the same effect. This drinking was not exactly regular, but systematic; that is to say, they would be perfectly sober for months on end, and then suddenly have a bout for three weeks, after which they would wake up one morning with splitting headaches and find they had no money left. They took it very philo¬ sophically. What were the wages for ? On these occasions they were generally maudlin and apologetic. “ You’ll forgive 30 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK me, barinia, won’t you ? n “ Certainly I will forgive you, but you must not do it again.” “ What, does the barinia mean I mustn’t go on till the end of the month ? ” The storoj had an understanding with the coachman that at midnight, if his employers were in bed, he should be let into the stables where a rug would be ready for him and where he could sleep till breakfast-time, when he would once more return to the front door, and sit with the virtuous air of one who had been there all night, ready to greet the master when he left the house. I dis¬ covered his shortcomings quite by acci¬ dent on a winter evening, when he ought to have been at the door to let me in after a party, and I spent the best part of an hour shivering in the snow and trying to make him hear. He met me with a most disarming smile, expressed A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 81 a hope that I had spent a pleasant evening, and held out his hand for the expected tip. Natasha, my pupil, treated them all with the greatest contempt. “ They are real pigs,” she used to say in her broken English ; “ what good to be polite with them when "they steal all time and are dirty?” I suggested that if they were treated with greater respect they would improve, but she laughed and said they were used to it. Certainly she had no consideration for them, and they waited upon her hand and foot, rushing to answer her imperious peal at the bell, and arriving out of breath for fear of bringing upon their heads a tirade against slowness. Nearly all the young girls of the nouveau riche bourgeois class so predominant in 32 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK Rostov had the same attitude towards the servants. They were paid to work, and so they were given very little peace. They had to do the barishnia’s hair, lace her boots, dress her, and even bathe her. This bathing was almost like a sacred rite, and was undertaken with the greatest solemnity. As there was no central boiler, the water had to be specially heated, and this took a long time. Wood was scarce, and so the bath was only used once a week. At first I found this a great deprivation, but afterwards, when I had secured a daily substitute in the shape of huge cans of boiling water from the kitchen (thereby earning for myself the title of “Mees Gariachia Vada ”—'“ Miss Hot Water ”), I was rather relieved, as bath-night always seemed the occasion of a general upset. The servants, in white overalls rolled up at the elbow, and white handkerchiefs A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 33 round their heads, their faces scarlet with the exertion of scrubbing, were usually in tears. An irate damsel in the bath was shouting orders at the top of her voice, water was splashed all over the floor, and the passage was full of smoke from the wood fire. The housemaid was very much troubled when I refused to admit her while I was having a bath. Her idea was^ that I could not possibly reach my back. As I never once allowed her to come in she is now firmly convinced that the English are a very dirty race. The master of the house was bathed by a white-coated valet, and on those days he arrived at the tea-table actually waxed and perfumed. I never could get accustomed to this, nor to meeting him at breakfast in his green plush dressing-gown and felt slippers. My pupil’s education was typical of that given to the Russian bourgeoise 3 84 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK who was not sent away from home. Many girls went to “ institutes” or boarding schools, where they had much less liberty than the day-girls at the “ gymnasiums ” (high schools). They wore, as a rule, old- fashioned and ugly uniforms with broad collars and aprons. They were seldom allowed outside the school grounds, and had to conform to all sorts of irksome rules regarding the way they did their hair, etc. Natasha attended the gym¬ nasium daily and passed her public examination there. She had both a German and an English governess, and a Frenoh lady came to the house once a day to talk French with her, so that she was thoroughly conversant with all three languages. Visiting masters and mis¬ tresses gave her extra coaching in the school subjects in which she was not proficient. A ballerina taught her dancing, and she had music lessons from a master A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 35 who lived in the town. She received all her teachers in her bedroom, as the dining-room was sacred to meals and the drawing-room to guests. Natasha herself took very little interest in anything she had to learn, and made no attempt to master what was difficult. She detested writing essays, and so paid a teacher five roubles to do this for her. There seemed to be very little honour among teachers and pupils. I was told that the rich girls who had written a bad exercise sometimes slipped a ten rouble note into the leaves of their books and eventually received full marks. At the viva voce lessons many of them attached a paper with the correct answers written on it to an elastic sewn into their sleeves. From this they read the lesson, and when accused of holding a paper they let go the elastic, which slipped up their sleeves, and showed empty hands. Even parents 36 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK were known to bribe the masters, and girls who did not know their lessons often paid cleverer pupils to write their answers. Rostov, after the fall of War¬ saw, became a university town, and advertisements sometimes appeared in the local paper to the effect that students would write gymnasists’ essays at the rate of a rouble per hundred words, or two roubles if full marks were expected. Nobody seemed to think anything of this, and the students in question quite fearlessly published their names and addresses. Many of these young men were so poor that they would do anything to earn a little money. I remember a particularly attractive quartet who shared an attic in one of the houses in a back street. They could only afford one meal a day, and used to wander arm in arm through the town, flirting over their shoulders with all the prettiest girls, and A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 37 singing with their starved voices. It was tacitly understood that they were never invited out to dinner together as they had only one good pair of shoes between them. Her last day at school was a great event in a Russian girl’s life. She received her certificate and was considered a “ young lady.” The occasion was cele¬ brated in various ways, but there was always a party to which the young friends were invited. The parents gave their daughter handsome presents, the rooms were filled with flowers, and there was sometimes dancing. Natasha was delighted when she left the gymnasium, as she could discard her uniform and attend those cinemas from which schoolgirls were excluded, the pictures shown at these institutions being divided into two classes —those to which a young girl might go, and others suitable for an older person. 38 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK Of course the schoolgirls evaded the law. The close of her scholastic career marked the beginning of a life of leisure for Natasha, as was the case with most young girls who did not continue their studies at the university. She literally had no interests beyond the theatre and the cinemas. She had so much money that everything she should have done for her¬ self was done for her, and she sometimes cried for sheer boredom. “ Que voulez- vous ? ” said her governess to me, “ maintenant elle attend le mari.” And it was true. “ How I wish I could marry me,” she used to say, flinging her arms above her head and gazing into space. “ I would not mind even if I did not love so I could marry now at the once. I am already seventeen, and did not grand¬ mother marry when she was fourteen ? ” “But, Natasha, if you married some one you did not care for, later you might A RUSSIAN BOURGEOIS HOUSEHOLD 39 meet some one you loved, and then your life would be ruined.” “Pooh! I would take a lovair. It is easier so if there are children.” It was useless to expostulate. I could only point out the disadvantage of such an arrangement. She used to listen with her eyes half closed and her head on one side, and then suddenly throw her arms round my neck, saying between kisses, “Oh, Little Spider” (her name for me because I was thin), “dear, you will always be funny and English. So will you nevair be married.” We usually left it at that. CHAPTER III THE REVOLUTION W E led a slack, luxurious life for the first month after my arrival, driving in the sleigh or the car, going to theatres or cinemas nightly, and eating the rarest dainties. In our house white bread, milk, and sugar were plentiful. We had cakes every day. How this was possible I do not know, seeing that we had tickets for a limited allowance of sugar and flour. There were, however, sacks of each hidden in an unused room. A certain amount was given out daily to the cook, and when the contents of the sacks began to get low they were re¬ plenished. And while we ate cakes and chocolates at twenty roubles a pound, 40 THE REVOLUTION 41 caviare, and good fresh meat, peasants stood shivering hour after hour outside the bakery, their tickets clutched between blue fingers, waiting for a loaf of bread. If there were not enough to go round they went away empty handed. Some of them lined up at midnight and waited till the shops opened in the morning. They had families to feed and could not be turned away. I used to watch their patient, tired faces, and the pale little children, sitting in the snow on over¬ turned baskets, and wonder how long it would be before they would rebel. A little white-faced factory-girl haunted my dreams. It was Anna Ivanovna, an orphan with two small brothers. She used to stand at the bakery door, her head wrapped in an old brown shawl, her thin body shivering with cold as the snow beat relentlessly against her. She always carried a large basket and waited, 42 UNDER COSSACK AND BOLSHEVIK one of many, in the long queue outside the shop, her eyes looking straight in front of her, her chin thrust slightly forward, the picture of utter weariness. Many other women stood before her and many behind, all with a look of dogged patience on their faces. Only when the door opened to admit the first five did a momentary gleam of interest creep into their eyes. Day after day Anna stood at this door, sometimes in the middle of the line of women, sometimes at the end. Her position depended upon the time it took her to walk from the factory where she worked, and though she tried to move quickly she had often to stop and rest because her limbs, weary with standing, refused to support her. Long hours at the factory, where she earned a mere pittance, the time she spent outside the bakery waiting to change her bread ticket for a loaf, and the haunting anxiety lest 43 THE REVOLUTION there should not be enough bread to go round, began to tell. Anna Ivanovna grew paler and more fragile every day. As time went on she seldom managed to take her place among those at the begin¬ ning or in the middle of the line, but stood among the later ones, and after a dreary waiting was often sent away empty handed, for the scarcity of food increased daily. At last there came a day when she was later than usual. 