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LENIN 
GOD OF THE GODLESS 



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BEASTS, 

MAN AND MYSTER* IN ASIA 

THE SHADOW OF THE GLOOMY EAST 

FROM PRESIDENT TO PRISON 

THE FIRE OF DESERT FOLK 

OASIS AND SIMOON 

THE LIONESS 

SLAVES OF THE SUN 

THE LIFE STORY OF A LITTLE MONKEY 

Published by E. P. Dutton &> Co., Inc. 




1 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

By 
FERDINAND A. OSSENDOWSKI 

Author of "Beasts, Men and Gods," "The Fire of Dessert Folk" 
"Slaves of the Sun," Etc. 



Translated From the Polish by 

GREGORY MACDONALD 



1931 

iE.P.DUTTON & CO., INC 

New York 



IN^ GOD OP "THE G"OBLSS, COPYRIGHT^ 

BY. E. P.-DUTJON. St. CO^ INC. I : ALL 

RIGHTS ;RESE&V$D * : * MINTED IN u. s. A. 



LENIN 
GOD OF THE GODLESS 



LENIN 
GOD OF THE GODLESS 

CHAPTER I 

LITTLE VLADIMIR ULYANOV was sitting very still, thought 
fully watching his mother s preparations. Maria 
Alexandrovna herself, pale and spiritless, was helping 
the servant-girl to lay the table. For it was Saturday, when 
her husband s friends would descend upon them, and she had 
grown more and more to dislike their weekly assemblies. Her 
children, except Vladimir, shared her feelings. The girls were 
tidying up the drawing-room and comparing notes on their 
father s guests. The elder boy, as usual, had slipped out of 
the house, cursing them for a gang of brigands. Only Vladimir 
looked forward to the evening with impatience. 

At last Ulyanov came into the room. He was a grizzled, 
broad-shouldered man, with the narrow Mongolian eyes of his 
younger son, and he knew that he looked a man of substance 
in his dark-blue frock coat with gold buttons, especially when 
*the red and white ribbon on his chest held the cross of St. 
Vladimir, which conferred an authority of its own. 

He sat down in an armchair, drew up a small table, and set 
out the chess-men, in readiness for a game with Doctor Titov. 

The Doctor always captured the imagination of Vladimir. 
The lad would have liked to see him go swimming. No mat 
ter how deep the water might be, the man would not sink. 
He would bob up and down like a fishing-float on the surface. 
A round, bulky man was Doctor Titov. 

The father said nothing to Maria Alexandrovna. He knew 
very well that she did not like his guests. On the other hand, 
he did not want to spoil his pleasures by a quarrel with his 
wife. 



4 LENIN 

But Madame Ulyanova began the conversation at once. 

"My dear," she said, "we would both be better off if you 
gave up those friends of yours. What good can it do you to 
have that drunken priest. Father Makary, with his rusty old 
cassock, or Doctor Titov, or the School Inspector, Peter Petro- 
vitch Shustov? That old ramrod! he s good for neither God 
nor Devil! 5 

Her husband twisted uneasily in his chair and began to wipe 
his perspiring forehead with a red handkerchief. 

"We ve been friends for a long time," he muttered. "Be 
sides, they have very good connections. They can help one 
along in life. The great ones of the earth have ears, you know, 
and when my friends whisper a good word about me. . . ." 

U O Lord!" groaned his wife. "You and your good word! 
You remind me of Tiapkin-Lapkin in Gogol s Inspector. He 
did that too. He took care to ask the Inspector, when he re 
turned to Petersburg, to tell the Ministers where Tiapkin- 
Lapkin was living!" 

She began to laugh, silently and with bitterness. 

"That s no sort of a comparison, my dear," he said reproach 
fully. 

"Yes, it is! It s exactly the same," rejoined his wife. "You re 
making a fool of yourself, that s all. Why don t you invite 
some people who really count, young people or men of in 
tellect? For instance, Dr. Dokhturov, or that school master 
Nilov, or that marvelous monk, the preacher, Brother Alexis ? 
I met them at Madame Vlasova s. They have intelligence. 
They re worth paying attention to!" 

"God forbid!" hissed Ulyanov. There was some fear in his 
voice, and he waved his hands helplessly. "Those fellows are 
dangerous types. They are, well . . . political agitators." 

"Political agitators!" asked Maria Alexandrovna. "What do 
you mean by that?" 

"Nothing very good," he replied in an impressive whisper. 
"The Police Commissioner warned me about them. But I 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 5 

forgot to tell you, Maria, that he is calling on us today, 
as well" 

"What are you going to do next?" stormed Maria Alex- 
androvna, striking her hands together in exasperation. "We 
won t hear a single honest opinion expressed tonight. With a 
policeman present, no one will dare open his mouth. Espe 
cially with that busybody!" 

The husband held his peace, breathing heavily and wiping 
his forehead. 

"For a man in a small way, like myself/ he muttered, "it is 
necessary to have a powerful friend." 

But his wife threw up her hands in despair and went out of 
the room. 

Punctually at eight o clock the guests began to arrive. In a 
short time they were seated in the drawing-room, where they 
carried on an animated conversation. 

Vladimir had eyes only for two of them. With a sly grin 
he nudged his sister, Sacha, glancing at the same time towards 
the Doctor. 

His head was round, bald and very red. His eyes protruded 
abnormally, weak and pale in colour, so as to give the impres 
sion that they were actually white. Below them the face fell 
away into three folds of -chin, which lay like so much putty 
upon a crumpled shirt front. The domed head, balanced as 
though casually upon the gigantic rotundity of his body, gave 
an uneasy sense of disproportion. . . . Some sudden movement 
might send it rolling down his waistcoat, as he sat on the high 
sofa swinging his fat, short legs above the floor. 

"An apple on a watermelon," whispered Vladimir to his 
sister, screwing up his eyes. Sacha pinched his arm and put 
her hand over her mouth to conceal her giggles. 

The lad turned to examine the new guest, Bogatov, the 
Police Commissioner, about whom there were all sorts of stories 
in the town, and whose very name was the terror of evil-doers. 
He was lean but strongly built. His cheeks were covered with 



6 LENIN 

fine side-whiskers. The ends of his long, carefully waxed 
moustaches pointed upwards almost to his half-closed, cunning 
eyes. He was lounging comfortably in his armchair, constantly 
adjusting his sword and the decorations hanging at his throat. 
His splendid appearance was completed by his high, shining 
boots, and long spurs which clicked softly as he moved. 

Vladimir could only gaze at him in admiration. He liked 
the energy radiating from Bogatov s muscular frame, the self- 
confidence reflected in every word he spoke and in the least 
glance of his unscrupulous eyes. At the same time, in the 
depths of the little boy s heart there arose perhaps some secret 
animosity, almost hatred. He felt a desire to make this strong 
and self-confident man uncomfortable, to torment him and to 
shame him. 

The Commissioner, drawing at his thick cigarette, was 
telling a story. They were all bending forward, with servile 
smiles of admiration, to hear what he had to say. Ulyanov 
alone was sitting upright and rigid, anxious not to miss a single 
word; for as a schoolmaster he had learned the art of listening, 
and this he had passed on to Vladimir. Father and son were 
silently taking it all in, noting every word and action of the 
Commissioner. 

Dr. Titov, with his head on one side, vainly attempted to 
turn his heavy body towards the speaker. Inspector Shustov 
crowed softly as he fidgeted in his chair. Father Makary, 
whose eyes were raised to heaven, stroked his long beard with 
one white and full-fleshed hand, while with the other he 
pressed against his chest a heavy cross of silver and blue 
enamel, hanging on a golden chain, with little jewels glittering 
in the crown of Christ. 

"Well, gentlemen," Bogatov was saying in his low clear 
voice, "Mr. Aksakov belongs to one of the oldest families. 
He is esteemed and reverenced by the whole countryside. 
But when he refused the peasants timber to rebuild the village 
which had been burnt down, they attacked the manor house. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 7 

They were received with bullets. Two of them were killed, 
three were wounded and the rest were successfully dispersed. 
Then they sent a farmhand on horseback for me. I went to 
the place without delay. After sniffing about for an hour, I 
found the wounded and had them brought to me. I tried to 
get the details out of them, tried to find out who were mixed 
up in it. They kept mum. "So you won t answer, my lads? 
I asked them. When I d clouted three of them across the 
head, and perhaps knocked a few teeth out . . . broken a nose 
or two . . . when there was a bit of blood on them . . . they 
sang a different tune. You know, our Governor doesn t like a 
noise, troublesome reports to Petersburg, all that sort of thing. 
He has to put up with letters, enquiries no end of a fuss. 
So he takes me aside and says, Simon Simonovitch, you re the 
man who s got to punish the rebels. Teach them once and 
for all not to cut up against the nobility. . . . Well, I took 
some of my policemen along and I did justice according to 
my lights. The fellows who caused the trouble got a hundred 
strokes each, and every other man and woman in that village 
got twenty-five strokes. That was just to give them a lesson. 
Now everything is quiet and peaceful, like the inside of a 
church. The rod: that s the best medicine for our peasants." 

He laughed comfortably at the end of his story and the 
Doctor nodded in agreement. 

"You re right, sir. The rod is a cure like cupping. It draws 
off blood from the head and heart." 

"It is a rnild, fatherly punishment," Father Makary observed 
in his sing-song voice, caressing the cross with both hands. 
"Our peasants are children; they must be punished like chil 
dren." 

"M-yes. Better than hauling them up in court," added the 
School Inspector. "Better than gaol. Better than Siberia. 9 

He glanced at Ulyanov as he spoke. Maria Alexandrovna 
also eyed her husband gravely, and clinched her hands. He 



8 LENIN 

was clearly embarrassed. Then he spoke gruffly to his 
daughter. 

"Sacha! Hurry the cook up! Our guests are famished, Fm 
sure." 

Maria Alexandrovna, with a sign for the children to follow 
her, left the room. The men turned their conversation to the 
gossip of the town and of the official world. At last the host 
proposed that they should play cards or chess. Bogatov, Father 
Makary and the School Inspector began a game of stoss, 
Ulyanov and the Doctor wrangled fiercely over the chess 
board; until, at the invitation of the wife, they passed into the 
dining-room. 

The visitors drank quantities of vodka from large glasses. 
The meal began with herring, pickled gherkins and pickled 
mushrooms. 

"You are a master drinker, Father Makary/ 5 said the School 
Inspector admiringly as the priest poured more vodka into 
his large glass. 

"With God s help I can manage it still, 55 replied Father 
Makary with a good-humoured cackle. "There is no art about 
it when a couple like the Ulyanovs invite you to a meal and 
serve vodka. I always bring my throat along in case of 
emergencies. 5 

"Talking of throats," the Doctor mused, "how is it that your 
Reverence s voice has not dropped to bass, but has remained 
tenor?" 

"Well you see, I m not a deacon. 55 

"What s the difference?" asked Ulyanov, a little elevated. 

"Quite simple," the priest shrilled. "The deacon, when he 
drinks, chuckles and roars, Ah! Ah! Ah! 5 As for me, when 
I ve had a few, I take the highest pitch, Ee! Ee! EeP" 

The guests laughed heartily and Father Makary poured out 
yet another glass, drained it, threw back his head, and 
screamed, "Like this: I! I! I!" 

The laughter grew more boisterous. Madame Ulyanova, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS g 

after giving food to the children, saw them off to bed. She 
remained silent and gloomy, brightening a little only when 
some marked attention was paid to her. Soon, as the spirits 
of the company rose, she was completely overlooked; she was 
quick to notice this, and escaped from the room. 

Vladimir did not go to the wing of the house where he 
slept with his brother. He slipped furtively back and hid 
himself in the drawing-room, whence he could watch the men 
at table through the open doors. 

"How much can you drink, Father Makary?" Ulyanov 
asked the priest, slapping him on the shoulder. 

"To infinity, and one over," replied the priest, raising his 
eyes as if in prayer. 

"If I may say so, your Reverence puts limits to Infinity," 
observed the School Inspector with a laugh. 

"Exactly, Peter Petrovitch. Do we not read in the words 
of Ecclesiastes, the son of David, King of Jerusalem: Eat your 
bread in merriment, and drink wine with rejoicing, for your 
deeds please the Lord ?" 

Vladimir, crouching in the other room, became thoughtful 
at these words. His mother taught him to pray and took him 
to church, where people were always praying in front of beau 
tiful gilded ikons. Sometimes the worshippers had exalted 
faces, sometimes they sighed and groaned. God a tremendous 
word, a terrible, lovely, mysterious name. A Being with such 
a lofty and commanding name as God should be fine, majestic, 
powerful, radiant. God could not possibly be like his father, 
or the Doctor, or the Commissioner with his decorations, the 
priest in a green cassock, with a beautiful cross on his chest, 
or even like his mother. His mother flew into a rage from 
time to time, scolding his sisters or the servant girl exactly 
like Vladimir himself when he was angry. A great Being 
like God must act quite differently. Yet here was Father 
Makary saying that God approves of gaiety over meat and 
drink the very thing about which his mother was always 



io LENIN 

arguing angrily and despairingly with his father. God seemed 
to Vladimir now less mysterious and less lovable. That sort 
of a God was rather commonplace after all. Probably He was 
just like Father Makary or Bishop Leonti. Vladimir made a 
face at the thought and began to listen again to the talk of 
the guests. 

With his elbows on the table, and nodding his head for 
emphasis, the School Inspector was recounting one of his 
experiences. 

"I often go the rounds of distant villages where we open day 
schools/ Shustov was saying. "I m collecting some rather 
funny material for one of my friends at the Academy. You 
remember him Surov, the hunchback? He passed through 
the University and is now a Professor at Moscow. A great 
scholar, that fellow, and no doubt about it; a personal friend 
of the Minister of Education and a writer of books. I did 
what he asked, for you know, a connection like that is a valu 
able one. And I found materials for him that made his mouth 
water. Would you credit that in two villages I discovered 
pagans ? Yes, real pagans. They re Orthodox, officially. When 
the authorities tell them to, they go fifty versts to church, to 
make their prostrations. And they make a great shout about 
them, too. Then they go home to their old gods, in front of 
which they place bowls with offerings milk, salt, flour. Ha! 
Ha!" 

"Where did you find that, Peter Petrovitch?" asked Father 
Makary and the Commissioner together. 

"At Beyzyk and Lugovya," replied Shustov. 

"I must report it to the Bishop tomorrow," said Father 
Makary. "Missionaries must be sent there to redeem them 
by means of the true Orthodox religion." 

"Before you do that," shouted Bogatov with a laugh, "I ll 
send some mounted police. They ll convert the idolaters. 
Theyll baptize them with whips. Our peasants are savages 
still. Yes, that s what they are. Just savages!" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS H 

Ulyanov put his glass of beer down on the table. "That s 
why we are establishing schools," he said. "Education spreads 
quickly. You wouldn t find any villages now where the peo 
ple are quite illiterate." 

"Quite so/ said Father Makary. "You can teach them 
from good books now to value the Church, to reverence the 
clergy, to pay filial homage to our father, the Czar now 
happily reigning, and his whole family. . . ." 

"Or to know the ways of civilized nations in the West, * 
put in Ulyanov. 

"There s no need of that!" retorted Bogatov. "They wouldn t 
grasp any of it. It isn t necessary and it might even be dan 
gerous. They d begin dreaming things. They d get discon 
tented, rebellious. Remember, friends, the attempt upon the 
life of Czar Alexander II, that sainted monarch, patron of the 
peasants. I was in Petersburg at the time. I saw Zheliabov, 
Perovskaya and the other murderers hanging on the gallows. 
Then one soul, at least, rejoiced that the hand of the Lord 
had seized them." 

"The hand of the Lord," thought Vladimir. "Is it God who 
hangs people?" 

God was more distant than ever from him now no longer 
near and tangible. He was not in Heaven, either, in the 
mysterious sky, shining with the gold of the sun, the silver 
of the moon, and with the diamonds of the stars, as Marta, 
their old nurse, used to describe Him to the children. He 
was in some other world, dark, inhuman, almost to be feared 
and hated. God, wine, gallows the words whirled around 
in the boy s brain. Tears came to his eyes, his heart throbbed, 
he felt a yearning desire for something suddenly lost. He 
hated Bogatov, he hated God. One clouted peasants, the other 
hanged them with His own hand. Bogatov flogged peasants 
who wanted to punish a merciless miser. God hanged revolu 
tionaries who killed a Czar. Well, the Czar must have deserved 
to be killed. 



12 LENIN 

Now Ulyanov, terrified by Bogatov s reproach, was trying to 
explain himself. 

"What I meant to say was that we could give the peasants 
lessons how to run their farms as they do in the West." 

"Y-es, we might do that," the Commissar agreed. "But the 
first thing to do is to employ the powers of the Police, the 
Church and the Schools to keep our people loyal to the Czar, 
in peace and humility. That s a plain duty." 

"It certainly is," shouted the Doctor. "Otherwise some new 
Razin or Pugatchov may lead the people to rebellion. And 
you have a pretty to-do when you disturb an ant-hill. Ours 
would be full of devils and witches and werewolves, too, lead 
ing our simple Ivans by the nose. And our good pious peas 
ants would be roaring about with knives and axes, killing off 
the good and the bad impartially . . . just to enjoy the sight 
of blood, to know whether Father Makary s guts are red or 
blue. Oh, there would be a bonfire then our Holy Russia 
going up in smoke! I know the peasants pretty well. The 
Tartars ran amok and the whole world trembled. But that s 
nothing to the way our orthodox Ivan, Alexis or Conrad would 
carry on. Ugh! It gives me the creeps to think of it!" 

The whole group became thoughtful and a little awed. 
The rows of empty bottles on the table mocked their sudden 
lack of Dutch courage. 

"Yes, Doctor, you re quite right," said the Commissioner, 
breaking the silence. "It would be a mess. Our peasants can 
make the dust fly when they want to. Ill tell you something 
about that." 

They all settled down in their chairs more comfortably and 
lit up cigarettes. Ulyanov poured out more beer, as the Com- 
missioner began to recount one of his experiences. 

"It was along the Volga, near Samara, only last year. A 
tribe of gypsies pitched camp. You know what a thieving 
gang they are. When they re about, things begin to disappear. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS ! 3 

Sometimes a horse sometimes a girl s virtue. It s all the same 
to a gypsy!" 

He laughed and settled down comfortably into his chair. 
"You can make good the first loss," observed Father 
Makary. 

*L "Quite so. That s my whole story. Some clever young 

rogue from this family used to visit the village, where he 

^picked up a girl and cuddled her in the autumn hay. But 

/jjof course he had his eyes open for more than a pretty face. 

After he had spied out the land, one night the gypsies stole 

three of the best horses in the village, slipped across the Volga 

with them, sold their swag to the Tartars, and disappeared in 

the steppes like a pack of wolves. Well, the peasants hunted 

round a bit until they found out where the horses were. They 

talked it over, consulted with their priest and then made a 

^raid on the Tartars. They knocked eight of them on the head 

fi and took the horses back again. That s where I came in, of 

course. In the end, eight of the peasants were sent to the 

^quarries." 

^) "You wouldn t believe it, but next year the gypsies camped 

,& again on the same spot and the young chap got in touch with 

|0\his flame. They caught him at it. Lord, that was a game 

J worth seeing. First they accused the girl of being a witch, for 

an old woman had seen her flying on a broom-stick. They tied 

a mill-stone round her neck and pitched her into the Volga 

into a whirlpool. She went down like a drowned puppy. But 

they played a different game on the gypsy. They tied his 

hands together with a length of leather, coated him with 

honey, and set him dangling over an ant-heap. His toes just 

Ol touched it. The whole village turned out for three days and 

<Niree nights to watch the ants graze on him. . . . Two of the 

peasants got three years each for that." 

"A very severe punishment too severe!" cried Father 
Makary. "What for ? Just for the deaths of a gypsy, a whore, 



I 4 LENIN 

and a few Tartars. God himself must have rejoiced at the 
idolaters going to hell." 

"God! God again!" groaned Vladimir. The name seared 
his brain. He crept away from his hiding-place in tears. Soon 
he was in his own room, whimpering and hopeless, on his bed, 
where his brother found him when he returned after midnight 
from the town. The brother noticed the boy s tear-stained face. 

"What s the matter with you? Have you been crying? 
You ve been sleeping in your clothes." 

Miserable tears coursed down Vladimir s cheeks. In a broken 
voice he told the whole story of the evening, and clenching his 
fists, he whispered, "God is wicked, wicked." 

The elder boy looked thoughtfully at Vladimir. Then he 
spoke, and with an emphasis which Vladimir never forgot. 
"There is no God I" 



CHAPTER II 



IT WAS at the end of of Spring when the Volga at last broke 
its fetters of ice and the first passenger steamers forged 
their way through the floes. An increasing number of 
rafts began to drift down the river. Overhead, the last com 
panies of wild geese and of wild ducks passed on their north 
ward flight. 

Vladimir s school reports, which he brought home to his 
parents, made him top of the second form with the highest 
marks in every subject. His father was more pleased than he 
would show, and his mother kissed his forehead, saying, "You 
are my comfort and my pride." But Vladimir received their 
praises indifferently, without even understanding why he 
should be praised. He had studied hard only because he was 
thirsty for knowledge; and knowledge came easily to him. 
He liked Latin particularly and he tried to read Cicero on his 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 15 

own initiative, with the help of a dictionary and with the oc 
casional assistance of his brother Alexander. Despite all this, 
he had found plenty of time on his hands. He read exten 
sively, his favorite authors being Pushkin, Lermontov and 
Nekrasov, but Tolstoy s "War and Peace" he read more than 
once. He was accustomed to divide the books he read into 
two categories: there were the feminine, or sentimental and 
meaningless books, which left behind them nothing but a 
sound of words; and there were the true books, real books, 
where he found ideas after his own heart. 

And yet he had not been a voracious reader for long. 
Formerly, his chief interest had been skating. He liked the 
quick movement, the constant control of his muscles, the effort 
of balancing. After he had finished his home-work he would 
run to the ice with his skates, and when he came home again, 
fatigued and drowsy, reading was out of the question. He 
simply went to bed and slept like a top. But in the past 
winter he had noticed that skating was occupying too much 
time which could be used to better advantage in other ways. 
For a time he hesitated. But at last, having screwed up his 
courage, he went to his friend Krilov, with whom he finally 
struck a bargain. Vladimir came home in triumph. He had 
given up his skates and all that they meant to him; but he 
had four volumes of Turgeaev under his arm. 

The fact that Vladimir had done so well at school, however, 
did not prevent B2h from looking forward eagerly to the 
summer holidays. Then the whole family went to the small 
village of Kokushkina which lay among the forests by the 
river. For Vladimir it was an earthly paradise, not the least 
because it was friendly to him and to his family. Maria Alex- 
androvna was especially popular in the village; she doctored 
everybody impartially with the help of a pharmacopoeia and of 
medicines which she had brought with her from the town. 

So also among the village boys Vladimir was a person of 
consequence. He was quick-witted and adventurous, even 



16 LENIN 

unscrupulous, the leader of a "gang" which he dominated by 
his strength and resourcefulness. He did not make the village 
boys feel that he was a squire s son condescending to their level 
and inwardly laughing at them. And Vladimir, on his part, 
although he was sometimes quick-tempered and sometimes dis 
trustful, felt thoroughly at home with the gang an equal 
among equals. 

Many a time he would come home with a black eye; and 
when his Mother scolded him for it, he would look up at her 
kindly face and reply, "But that s nothing, Mummy. We 
played at Cossacks and robbers. Red Ivan hit me in the eye, 
but I paid him back for it. I wouldn t surrender and I fought 
alone against five of them until my robbers came in." 

Now that the term was over and the reports were out, all 
these pleasures awaited Vladimir. His elder brother remained 
in town, his sisters Alexandra and Olga went away on a visit 
to their aunts, so this time he alone went with his parents. 
As soon as they arrived, while the trunks and baskets were 
being unpacked, he stole from the cottage. 

Vladimir ran as fast as his legs could carry him into the 
forest. The setting sun lit up the highest branches of the 
trees, which were covered with fresh aromatic leaves, and 
were already losing their last flowers and seeds. His eyes were 
refreshed by the bright green of the grass. He drank in the 
perfume of the wild flowers, white, yellow^ and blue, which 
mingled with the heavy scent of the wef earth. Butterflies, 
humming beetles and dragon-flies were in the air. A variety 
of birds wheeled overhead, chirping and whistling, ever on 
the hunt for insects. The lad stopped to admire them. He 
greeted the forest, the grass, the insects and the birds. Every 
thing seemed to him to be beautiful. Everything was im 
mortal. Mechanically he took off his cap and stared into the 
deep blue of the sky. "God . . . great God!" he shouted, with 
gratitude and emotion. 

But his own words reminded him of Father Makary and 



GOD OF THE GODLESS jj 

Bogatov. He made a wry face. Then he put on his cap again 
and made his way through the forest, stumbling over the roots 
of trees, until he came to the high river bank overgrown with 
shrubs of wild strawberry and viburnum. The bank fell away 
in an almost vertical slope. Below the shrubs could be heard 
the song and murmur of the eddies, slipping along the narrow 
sandy bank. The wide river flowed full but smoothly. On 
the other side were green meadows stretching back from the 
low sandy shore; but the long spits of sand which the boy 
knew well were now flooded. With all its multitude of colours 
the river reminded him of the flowing robes of angels and 
archangels painted around the cupola of a cathedral. He 
wanted to jump into its caressing waters and to swim far away 
towards the sun of ruddy gold which spilt its colour on the 
waves. 

Little Vladimir pulled off his cap again and stood in an 
indescribable ecstasy, motionless, staring, unconsciously draw 
ing the fresh air of the Volga into his lungs. And then, from 
behind a jutting rock which caught the whirling current, a 
big raft came into sight. Its crew strained on their long, iron- 
shod poles as they propelled forward the hundreds of big 
trunks of fir and ash, bound together with withes. In the 
center of the raft was a shelter made of bark and green 
branches, in front of which a fire burned on a flat stone. A fat, 
bearded merchant, seated by the fire, was drinking tea, which 
he poured from the cup into the saucer. Now and then he 
shouted encouragingly to his men, "Hi, there! Put your backs 
into it! Sing a song, boys! Make it go with a swing!" The 
men, bent over their punt-poles, began gloomily to sing: 

The sulky voices became more lively. They gathered a 
bolder tone and a better rhythm. The young steersman, lean 
ing on his long sweep, suddenly began in a melodious tenor 
the highwayman s song. 

Oh, here is our club, let us strike! 

Oh, our green club that strikes by itself! 

Oh, let us strike, let us strike! 



i8 LENIN 

The choir of straining figures, stamping with their bare feet 
the grinding, wet timbers, carried on the swelling refrain. 

From behind an island, upon the current, 
Upon the back of the river s tide 
There come in a thousand colours 
The boats of Styenka Razin. 

The high slopes echoed and threw back the words of the 
song. They rolled over the river and died away across the 
endless plain of green fields. Suddenly the raft struck upon a 
submerged rock. The current slewed it off into a whirlpool, 
and as it swirled around the song broke off, a confused shout 
ing arose, and the stamping rhythm became a panic. The 
butts of the long poles pressed heavily against the tired shoul 
ders of the rivermen. The water rose against the sides, the 
withes strained apart, the steering-sweep creaked aloud. As 
the last echo of the song still hung upon the air the merchant 
jumped from his seat by the shelter and ran across to the steers 
man. Raising his arm, he struck the young fellow on the face 
as he wrestled with the current, shouting at the same time in 
a frenzy of rage. Vladimir heard, as clearly as he had heard 
the measure of the song, the hysterical curses of the merchant, 
"You son of a b ! You spawn of a devil! All of you! 
Misers! Lousy beggars! Swabs! May cholera take you. 
May . . .!" 

He was running about, swearing at his men, striking them, 
threatening, blaspheming, mouthing the most abominable 
filth. The high bank re-echoed everything and tossed his 
words back and forth like tennis-balls, where the great song 
of Razin the Robber, defender of the oppressed, had just died 
away. 

In an instant the river grew colourless, grey and wrinkled, 
like the face of an old man. The coloured draperies of angels 
and archangels dissolved in a faded heaven in the boy s mind. 
Vladimir slouched his cap over his eyes, and with his hands 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 19 

in his pockets went home thoughtful and melancholy. The 
joy of holiday died in his heart. Nowhere could he see full 
pleasure now; it eluded him, leaving no trace or echo behind. 
The lad could only whisper to himself, "Mamma and the 
Catechism teacher say that God is merciful and eternal. Then 
why do men die and birds and dogs? Why is nothing 
peaceful? Why does the river-song break off? Why does 
the fat old merchant strike the poor steersman and shout 
things like that, at the top of his lungs? I don t believe the 
Lord is merciful or He would have given eternity to good 
things. Perhaps He is not eternal Himself. Perhaps He lived 
once and was merciful. Now He is dead and there is no 
charity on earth. There is no God. . . ." 

He remembered the words of his brother Alexander: "It s 
better not to think of it," he whispered. A grimace of pain 
distorted his chubby face and lingered in his eyes. 

Days full of unforgettable impressions succeeded one another 
in the countryside. With the village boys Vladimir wandered 
at will through the forests, among the fields and along the 
Volga bank, where they bathed or sat patiently fishing. In the 
forest he became a real hunter, bringing down birds with a 
bow of his own making. He did this unknown to his mother, 
for she would have scolded him. "Mind, my darling/ she 
said once, looking at him gravely, "life is the greatest treasure 
given to men. The good Lord bestowed it on them. Nobody 
can kill a man, or even the tiniest insect, without off ending 
God." 

"Even a gnat which stings you?" asked the lad. 

"Well, the gnat is a harmful insect/ his mother replied in 
confusion. 

"And a wolf, a bear ?" he insisted. 

"They are ferocious animals/ she explained in an uncertain 
voice. 

"But aren t some men ferocious too?" he went on. "I heard 
Father Makary say that revolutionaries are harmful. And Mr. 



20 LENIN 

Bogatov said that gypsies were beasts of prey. What did they 
mean. Mamma?" 

Maria Alexandrovna looked thoughtfully into the searching 
eyes of her son. Her instinct was to give him an answer, but 
after a long silence she whispered, "You would not under 
stand it now, dear. You are still a small boy. In time you 
will know everything." 

Vladimir asked no more questions, but resorted to secretive- 
ness. He continued to shoot at the birds. He also learned 
how to play with dice, although he knew that his parents 
would object to this and scold him. Still, gambling took on an 
irresistible fascination for him. He had his own dice and 
played with the other boys, winning from them live squirrels 
and young rabbits taken from their burrows, blackbirds and 
gold-finches, and knobkerries which they fashioned in the 
woods. 

Vkdimtr never lost and finally his playmates caught him 
out. He had loaded his dice with lead. They gave him a 
thrashing on the spot, but no one of them was inclined to 
despise him for his trick. The ingenuity of its aroused their 
admiration, Vladimir himself merely shrugged his shoulders 
and said coolly, "What have you hit me for? I only wanted 
to win, so I made sure of winning." 

Fifteen-year-old Serge Khalturin, covered with warts and 
agile as a cat, nodded at the boy. 

"You re a sport, anyhow," he said. "You don t like to 
lose, do you?" 

"I only play to win," replied Vladimir with a sulky lowering 
of his eyes. 

He expected them to charge him with dishonesty. It was a 
word he often heard at school; the slightest breach in the rules 
of a game would raise shouts of indignation and accusations 
of dishonesty. So Vladimir seldom played during the breaks. 
He used to go to the art-classroom and look at the casts, at the 
busts of Venus, the big statue of Hercules leaning on a club; 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 21 

or he turned over the albums of pictures from the Hermitage, 
the Strogonoff Gallery, or the Louvre. 

Curious comparisons passed through his mind. At school 
the boys used to copy from one another or prompt one another 
loudly during the deaf priest s lesson. But they did not call 
that cheating, as they were quick to do when it was a matter 
of a game. Unable to explain the difference for himself, 
Vladimir smiled scornfully. But he understood the country 
boys well enough, when they thrashed him for using loaded 
dice. They were angered by his practising a deception on 
them. Still, they called him a sport. They even approved of 
him- Clicking their tongues, they admired the simplicity of 
the trick and its inventor. 

This often made Vladimir thoughtful when he was fishing 
with his friends over the quiet water where the river-bank 
curved into a deep bay. The lads would sit in a row, a few 
paces apart, and cast their flies into the deep, black water. 
For a time they would be silent, watching for a movement in 
the floats. From time to time one would slap his forehead or 
his neck to get rid of a too-persistent mosquito. Then, bored 
by the silence, they would begin to talk. 

Vladimir always listened to his friends with attention, losing 
not a word. Particularly he liked the stories told by the red- 
haired Serge, from whom he heard the legends about Razin, 
the famous robber of old, whose territory lay along the Volga. 
Before that he had only known that Razin was a powerful 
chieftain who kidnapped rich travelling merchants, or Persians 
voyaging down to the Caspian Sea with their goods. Here, on 
the banks of the river which had seen the robber s gaily- 
coloured boats, he learned that Razin used to distribute his 
booty among poor peasants, or ransom them from slavery; and 
when the workers rose desperately against the oppression of 
the Czar s boyars, Razin would come to their aid. 

The red-haired youth had other stories to tell of Pugatchov 



22 LENIN 

and his fellow-rebels who carried the case of the downtrodden 

peasants to the ears of the Empress Catherine herself. 

"Oh," said Serge, drawing himself up fiercely, "if only some 
Razin or Pugatchov would come now to lead us! We d make 
a mess of the state officials and the police. They re squatting 
on our necks here!" 

Serge struck the back of his neck with his fist, for he was 
repeating what he had heard from his father and his brother, 
a discontented factory-hand. 

From his friends Vladimir heard of the miserable conditions 
of peasant life, but many of their phrases he did not yet under 
stand, "Ivan sleeps with Mary one night, and with Barbara 
the next." That passed over his head. And so did "Dunia got 
a miscarriage after she went to Annie, the old witch who lives 
beyond the village and deals with devils," or "He treated his 
wife s tantrums with a lash," or "He was pushed into the 
gutter because he didn t pay taxes," or phrases like "a Red 
Cock," by which one Ivan Griaznov avenged an injury done 
him by his lord. These were all incomprehensible and rather 
terrifying. When he asked his friends for an explanation he 
sometimes blushed at their plain, unvarnished answers. Many 
of his doubts and illusions remained. He decided to verify 
everything for himself, to investigate with his own eyes and 
hands the terrible wounds which his childish imagination 
sensed. He remembered also the despairing accusations of 
Nekrasov in his poems and of Turgeniev in his "Sportsman s 
Sketches." 

His thoughts became less conjectural. He began to paint for 
himself a picture of country life, very different from life in the 
towns, full of shadow and gloom. He felt now that if he got 
to the center of existence he could see it all at one glance. 
This idea came to him as he changed the bait on his hook and 
he realized that the most interesting things of life had escaped 
him so far. He resolved to see everything, to know everything. 
At the same time he had a foreboding that there were in store 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 23 

for him new experiences even more impressive than the excur 
sions by night into the dark forest, where bonfires were lit in 
lonely clearings, and blood-curdling stories were told of were 
wolves and bear-men, devils and vampires. 

Only once had he come across a wolf, and that one fled from 
him like a beaten cur, so wolves could no longer frighten him. 
In search of witches and ghosts he could go by himself into the 
forest at night or steal away to the old cemetery, a part of 
which had slipped down into the river. On one occasion he 
had a really good fright when something cried out suddenly 
above his head and he saw in front of him a strange light 
between the trees. But when he investigated the apparition he 
found it to be a screech-owl. From that moment he lost belief 
in devils or witches, and he listened impatiently to the stories 
of the boys about them. 

Vladimir s thoughts were interrupted by what seemed to be 
a series of groans, at first far off, but coming nearer. 

"Oo oo oo ay! Oo oo oo ay!" 

Then there came in sight along the narrow strip of sand a 
long line of boatmen, bent under the rope of a loaded barge. 
The boy knew them for homeless vagabonds who would hire 
themselves out for a farthing, loading the barges and towing 
them from Astrakhan to Nizhni-Novgorod. Dressed in rags, 
barefooted, dirty and unshaved, the burlaks tramped wearily 
along under the rope. A fat and prosperous merchant, the 
owner, stood by the rudder of the barge which glided smoothly 
along behind them. Their black feet, covered with wounds 
and calluses, sank into the wet sand. Their sweating shoul 
ders bent lower and lower, as if their faces feared the sun. And 
all the time their straining, tortured lungs gasped their inter 
minable chorus. 

"Oo oo oo ay! Oo oo oo ay!" 

This was the song of the boatmen, the song of slavery and 
of despair. And as the boys jumped up and stood aside for 



24 LENIN 

them to pass, one of them shouted in compassion, "God be 
with you, burlaks!" 

It was their leader, a tall hairy fellow with red sores all over 
his powerful chest, who gave their answer. 

"Go to the Devil, puppy," he snarled. "The Devil is our 
God!" 

The team passed on, unnoticing, and at last, around the 
river s bend, their moaning died away: 
"Oo oo oo ay ! Oo oo oo ay ! " 
Vladimir s heart stood still. He had not found the Devil 
real, yet here were the boatmen acknowledging him as their 
lord. Where was the Devil s kingdom? Vladimir wanted 
to meet him, to have it out with him once and for all, even if 
he had to suffer for the rest of his life, like the burlaks. 

That evening the boy met Serge at once of their rendezvous 
and asked his red-haired friend to teach him how to be a 
worthy follower of Pugatchov and Razin. Serge only laughed 
at his young friend. 

"You townsfolk," he said, "don t know a thing about the 
villages, or the way we live. For you everything is different." 
At that very moment a peasant, dressed in white trousers 
and a blouse of rough linen, plodded past the boys. He was 
muttering to himself, and thumping his heavy black stick 
angrily upon the ground. 

"Khalin s coming from the manor house," whispered Serge, 
as they watched him pass, defiantly shaking his mop of thick, 
matted hair. "He s mighty angry, and I bet he has failed 
again." 

"Why, what s the matter?" asked Vladimir. 
"He has called over there every day for two months. What s 
bothering him is that the squire s younger son came across the . 
old man s daughter, Nastia, in the forest. After a bit of 
persuasion, and a few little presents, she gave in." 
"Gave in ? n asked Vladimir. "What do you mean gave in ?" 
"You are a fool!" shouted Serge; and with a few picturesque 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 25 

details he explained the whole matter to his friend. "She is 
in the family way and Khalin wants to get fifty roubles reward 
for it. If he doesn t, he says hell kill the harlot." 

"And what does the Squire say Mr. Milutin?" asked Vla 
dimir excitedly. 

"He says he won t give a farthing. He says she used to come 
to his son of her own will; so she was not taken by force. 
And he says that if Khalin kills the girl hell go to the quarries. 
But that doesn t stop Khalin from haggling. What s more, he 
counts on the money because he wants to buy another cow." 

"What on earth will happen now?" asked t the younger boy 
in some trepidation. 

"What will happen ? He will thrash his wife first and then 
Nastia. He will get drunk. Also, he will snore in his sleep. 
Tomorrow morning he will go to Milutin again, bowing and 
scraping." 

"If he is going to thrash them now, Fd like to have a look," 
whispered Vladimir. 

"A good idea," said Serge nonchalantly, sucking a sweet 
which Vladimir had given him. "We can hide behind his 
garden fence and see everything." 

The two boys made a detour to the village and found a 
vantage-point near Khalin s cottage. They could already hear 
the angry voice of the old peasant raised in a drunken argu 
ment. 

"He won t listen! the old hangman! The blood-sucker! 
He says the bitch went after the pup until she got him." 

"Oh, no! In Our Lady s name, no!" wailed Nastia. "I was 
in love with him and he promised to marry me! I didn t. . . ." 

A heavy blow fell upon her breast. She groaned. 

"You bitch! You slut! You whore!" the peasant repeated, 
as he rained blows at random on her, kicking her with his 
heavy boots at the same time. 

"What are you doing, you beast?" his wife cried, furiously 
attacking him. "Youll kill the girl!" 



2 6 LENIN 

The peasant caught his wife by the hair, (dragged her from 
the cottage, and snatching up a piece of wood, started belabour 
ing her head and body. 

"Good people, help! Murder! Murder! . . ." 

Women ran out of the neighbouring cottage in answer to 
her cries. After them came their menfolk, who soon formed 
a speculating and indifferent group around the pair. Vladimir 
could see neither emotion nor sympathy on the sun-burnt faces 
of the peasants. The men had an expression of furtive satisfac 
tion, the women sighed and, in affected terror, covered their 
eyes with their hands. Serge, by his side, was laughing softly. 

"You should love your wife as the apple of your eye," he 
murmured, quoting an old saying, "and shake her like the 
pear-tree in your garden. He shakes her well, anyhow." 

One of the women called upon the men to save her, for 
Paul Khalin was beating her to death. But the headman inter 
vened with authority. 

"This isn t our business," he said. "With us a wife is a 

1 treasure only twice; when she comes home after the wedding 

and when she leaves home for the funeral. This is nothing. 

Paul is teaching her a lesson, and that is the end of the 

matter." 

But the peasant had now lost all self-restraint. With a curse 
he threw away the stick and reached out for a heavy iron-shod 
pole. At this the headman thought it best to intervene. 

"That will do, neighbour," he said. "You ve done all you 
ought. Look, Paul Ivanovitch, your wife is covered with blood. 
She can t even stand up. Enough, man!" 

Khalin, raising his bloodshot eyes to the headman s face, be 
came suddenly calm again, and started lamenting tearfully. 

"She didn t keep her eye on the girl," he whimpered. "The 
slut! What am I supposed to do now? Support her bastard? 
And that thief, Milutin, refuses to pay fifty roubles! All 
right, then! In the Autumn, when his barns are full of rye, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 27 

111 let loose a red cock in his den. I ll light up a red flame for 
his lordship! He won t forget Khalin, so help me God!" 

"You re in the wrong now, neighbour," said one of the 
peasants reprovingly. "God forbid that your words come to 
the ears of the police. You ll rot in gaol for them, and no 
mistake." 

But Khalin continued his threats and his wife, profiting by 
the diversion, got up in obvious agony and crept into the 
cottage. The neighbours discussed for a while the injuries of 
the more unfortunate Nastia. Then they took themselves off 
with Khalin, whose lamentations died away along the road. 

Serge had neglected to water the cattle, so he now made 
quickly for home. Vladimir did not move from the spot. He 
was engrossed by what was going on inside the cottage. The 
two women cried and lamented together for a time, then they 
fell silent, and soon again their excited whispers were heard, 
as though they were concocting a plot. The voices ceased, and 
Nastia came into the garden, under her arm a bundle of linen 
bound with a gaudy printed handkerchief. 

The boy was ravenously hungry by this time, but he did not 
move. He saw Paul Khalin stagger home, talkative with 
drink, and waving his arms in the air. He even attempted to 
sing and to dance; but he nearly fell down with the effort, and 
at last he lurched through the door of the cottage, where his 
unfortunate wife pulled off his boots and laid him on the bed. 
Soon Vladimir knew that he was asleep; but between his 
snores he still shouted drunken curses. 

Then the woman came to the door. She looked impatiently 
up and down the road, until at last she heard footsteps ap 
proaching through the orchard. Nastia had returned, Nastia 
dishevelled and fearful, a shapeless woman walking heavily. 
The other was a wizened, bent old woman, a true witch, with 
wrinkled yellow face and bird-like little eyes. 

"Auntie, will you help this poor girl?" whispered the 



2 8 LENIN 

mother. "After the harvest I will bring you a silver rouble. 
I swear I will!" 

"Good, then! make haste! Make haste! muttered the old 
wise woman, rolling back her sleeves. 
. 

Far away there was a sound of music, of laughter, and of 
young men singing in the night. 

Hamlets two, and villages three. 
Eight young girls, and one for me! 
Hu ha! 



CHAPTER III 



THE WHOLE village gathered at Khalin s cottage. A 
white coffin of rough planks, hastily nailed together, 
was placed on two stools in one corner of the room. 
Above it a single candle burned before the black and sooty 
ikons on the shelf. 

A young priest, short and thin, clad in a frayed cassock and 
an old cope of black velvet, was saying the prayers for the 
dead. He intoned them in a strained voice as though he were 
burning with indignation which he was making a great ef 
fort to control. Time and again his blue eyes filled with tears; 
with his pale, veined hand he gripped his cross; and as he 
chanted the uncompromising prayers his glance, avoiding the 
crowd of peasants in the room, rested upon the face of Nastia. 

He saw her nose, sharpened by death, the lines of pain etched 
about her mouth, her bruised eye half -open upon a clouded 
pupil. He stopped singing, drew a whistling breath, and then 
went on. 

At last the ceremony came to an end, and as the final invoca 
tion died away, "Give her peace, O Lord, in the home of Thy 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 29 

Saints," the peasants carried Nastia to the cemetery. There, 
where, the stray cattle grazed and dogs ran among the tall 
weeds and bushes, a small hill of yellow clay rose quickly over 
the girl s tomb. Above it was placed a cross of wood, without 
inscription to commemorate her name. 

Ulyanov asked the priest to take tea at his home, saying, 
"You have come a long way, Father. You are tired. Let us 
look after you." As for Khalin, he was pleased to be rid of the 
obligation. This priest from another parish, a stranger and 
a learned man, might spoil the funeral-meal He would cer 
tainly embarrass Khalin s friends. 

Maria Alexandrovna seconded her husband s invitation. The 
young priest smiled diffidently as he nodded his head in ac 
ceptance. After taking off his cope he wrapped up the cross, 
the hyssop and a small bottle of holy water in a red handker 
chief; and as he shook the charcoal out of the censer he had his 
eyes on the unconscious peasants. They were already eating 
wheat porridge with their fingers from small bowls and wait 
ing impatiently for Nastia s parents, who were smoothing over 
with spades their daughter s grave. 

At the tea-table Ulyanov asked the young priest in a fatherly 
manner about his rectory, his family, and the affairs of the 
parish. The priest, as diffident as before, made evasive replies. 

"What seminary are you from, Father?" asked Madame 
Ulyanova. 

"I graduated from the seminary of Kiev and then from 
the Theological Academy at St. Petersburg/* he answered 
haltingly. My name Cherniavin Vissarion Cherniavin." 

"The Theological Academy!" ejaculated Ulyanov. "That s 
the highest school of all! How on earth did it happen, Father 
Vissarion, that you have buried yourself in an obscure parish ?" 

The priest raised his timid eyes and whispered: 

"I wonder if I may speak openly? ... I am afraid that 
somebody might overhear us." 



30 LENIN 

"It s quite safe here. You may say what you like," said 
Maria Alexandrovna. 

"Yes, I m quite sure of that/ 5 murmured the priest. "You 
see, I ve met your son, Alexander Ilyitch." 

"Have you really?" asked Madame Ulyanova. "Where did 
you meet him, Father?" 

"In Khazan. We have friends in common." He was evasive 
again. 

"Then tell us, Father, how it happened that an accom 
plished priest like you was sent down to such an obscure 
village?" 

Father Vissarion looked round with suspicion and whispered 
furtively across the table. "I have been victimised by the bishop 
and the Holy Synod." 

"In what way?" 

"I opposed the ecclesiastical policy. I had no wish to be 
simply a Church official. My vocation is the priesthood. My 
work is to confirm the faithful in the true religion of Christ." 
Warming with enthusiasm the priest continued more boldly. 
"To this day Russia is a savage, almost a heathen, country! 
Our priests must be missionaries the ignorant peasant has 
absorbed nothing from Christianity nothing at all. Of old 
he used to prostrate himself and strike his forehead upon the 
pedestal of the wooden idol, Perun. Now, after a thousand 
years, he prostrates himself before wooden ikons. He is quite 
ignorant. For him God is but an ikon; and the Holy Ghost 
he knows not at all. Why, there is nothing that he knows and 
nothing that he understands. His life holds no love, no light, 
no hope, no faith. What is even more terrible, he rejects 
prayer, the little symbol of faith, and thereby falls into 
blasphemy." 

Father Vissarion was silent, sunk in thought. 

"No indeed," he continued after a moment. "Our peasant 
does pray for a good harvest, for more land, for the disposses 
sion of landlords. That is what occupies his mind. With 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 3I 

the lure of land you may lead him to heaven or to hell 
Alexander II freed the peasants: he bound them to their small 
plots of land which at the very best provide only a miserable 
existence and a constant threat of starvation . . . they call him 
the Liberator. Some statesman must have advised him to make 
that hunger for land the passion of their lives to fetter their 
powerful limbs with illusory promises. A diabolical scheme! 
And the Emperor perished for it at the hands of revolu 
tionaries." 

No one spoke. Vladimir gazed at the pale, drawn face of 
Father Vissarion. 

"How can I draw the peasants to the teachings of Christ if 
I am ordered to deceive them, to make them humiliate them 
selves, ... all for the glory of the Czar and loyalty to corrupt 
authorities? I can t do it!" He sighed and added softly, "That 
was the subject of my dissertation. Now I am persecuted 
spied upon by the police deported to a small village. And I 
a priest! What a tremendous word! What a terrible responsi 
bility! . . . The funeral of that girl today you were there. 
Don t I know too well what is going on over the countryside ? 
I know because of the appalling things I hear in the confes 
sional. Not crimes exactly, for the attack of a wolf on a lamb 
is not a crime. But we live in a land of impenetrable darkness 
where husbands flog their wives to death when they feel an 
attraction for another woman; where wives drop poison into 
their husbands vodka when they wish to be rid of them; where 
girls lead lives of sin and go to an old hag when they want 
to be rid of the consequences. Everywhere there is drunken 
ness and savagery and a contempt for the value of human life, 
Do you know what our peasant has it in his heart to do? He 
can kill. He can kill a man with a subtlety that is exquisite, 
ingenious, quite Asiatic kill so that his victim really learns 
what death is. And what will be the end of it all ? Nobody 
knows. Nobody can guess!" 

"A revolution?" whispered Ulyanov. "A rebellion?" 



32 LENIN 

"No!" shouted the young priest. "Like a wild beast of 
prey the peasant will break out of his cage, to cover the land 
with blood and flame. The time is coming! It is now at 
hand!" 

He raised his fist and shook it above his head, like some 
prophet. Then he sighed heavily and relaxed. 

"It is terrible!" said Madame Ulyanova. 

"Perhaps our schools will save us from such a disaster," 
observed her husband. "Do you think so?" 

"Not for a long time," the priest answered. "And, con 
sidering the ideas our peasants have, the method is dangerous. 
A book won t feed the hungry. Learning only comes easily to 
full bellies and peaceful minds. We cannot afford to live on 
illusions while there is hunger and hatred all around us." 

With these words Father Vissarion rose from the table, 
crossed himself three times, and whispered deprecatingly: 

"Don t repeat this conversation to anybody, dear people. I m 
not afraid, but I would like to stay where I am for a certain 
time." 

They went to the yard where his carriage stood, but the 
driver was absent. Just as Ulyanov was ordering Vladimir 
to look for him at Khalin s cottage, where the mourners were 
being entertained to the funeral meal, the door of the cottage 
opened and the guests trooped out. The peasants, men and 
women, lurched down the steps, making their ritual sign of 
the cross. Once on the road they struck up a popular jigtune 
in a discordant chorus. Father Vissarion s driver was amongst 
them, as drunk as the rest, but he remembered his duty and 
staggered towards the carriage. 

"A fine and honest funeral they ve given their daughter," 
he mumbled, climbing up to his seat. "Ah, may the Lord 
illumine the soul of his handmaid Nastia!" 

In a cloud of dust the carriage rolled away down the street, 
with the drunken peasant lashing his horse and shouting at 
the top of his voice. Vladimir, watching it lurch and rattle on 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 33 

its iron-rimmed wheels around a bend in the road, carried in 
his mind a vision of the pale and fanatical little priest with his 
menacing hand raised above his head. He contrasted the pic 
ture with that of Father Makary, a fat man fingering his soft 
beard and his silver cross with the jewelled and golden figure 
of Christ crucified. Two men of God, thought the boy, and 
yet how different they were! Which of them was the better, 
which was in the right ? Or which was worse ? There was 
no answer to his questions. He stood seeking his way at a 
cross-road, lost in a mist of ideas. 

Vladimir narrowed his black eyes and compressed his lips. 
He remembered that he wanted to see a wandering beggar 
who was being sheltered for the night by the headman, so he 
shook off the doubts that weighed upon him and ran to the 
headman s cottage. There he found the tramp surrounded 
by women and children who attended to his needs and asked 
him what news he had from his travels. 

This old character, who went by the name of "Xenophon in 
Irons" was lean and swarthy, with the distant eyes of a fanatic. 
Both summer and winter he walked barefoot in his eternal 
overcoat, ragged and shiny. As a mortification he wore on his 
worn-out body a hair-shirt and a heavy chain, while on his 
chest there hung a picture of Christ crowned with thorns. 
He talked incessantly. There poured from his lips a medley 
of prayers, legends, gossip, and news collected in his aimless 
wanderings all over the face of Russia. He spoke of monas 
teries, of the relics of holy martyrs, and of their lives, of the 
prisons where thousands of peasants dragged out their miser 
able days; of rebellion; of some eagerly expected "white letter" 
which was to give land to the peasants, and liberty, and happi 
ness; of cholera, "a plague spread through the villages by doc 
tors and teachers." He showed them, also, talismans against 
every form of disease and misfortune: a pinch of sacred soil 
from the Holy Land, a fragment of one of St. Anne s bones, 
a phial of water from the miraculous well of St. Nicholas. 



34 LENIN 

Laughing, singing and clanking bis chains,, he prophesied that 
soon Anti-Christ, the enemy o God and of the people, would 
appear; and he predicted that only those who were over 
whelmed by wrong and misery he meant the peasants 
would survive the 666 days of his reign; the peasants would 
then earn the right to judge their oppressors, and when Christ 
came again to rule over simple ploughmen they would enjoy 
all earthly pleasures for a thousand years. 

Little Vladimir watched and pondered as the old mendicant, 
as black as the soil he sprang from, capered about the room 
with his vacant laugh and hysterical chatter. Suddenly, there 
was the sound of jangling sleigh-bells outside the door. A car 
riage, followed by two mounted policemen, had driven up to 
the headman s cottage. An official entered the room and 
greeted the headman haughtily. 

"Is there a woman living in your village called Daria 
Ugarova, the widow of a soldier killed in the Turkish War?" 

"There is," the frightened peasant replied, as he fastened on 
his coat with trembling fingers his official badge of brass. 
"Ugarova s cottage is near the gully." 

"Lead me to it," the officer ordered, and they left the room. 

The crowd of women quickly followed them, accompanied 
by the children, full of curiosity, and by Xenophon, chanting 
as he went. The motley crowd proceeded to a small tumble 
down cottage on the outskirts of the village, with a broken 
thatch of black and rotten straw, and gaping windows stuffed 
with filthy rags. Outside a middle-aged peasant woman was 
milking a cow. Her two little girls were turning out the dung 
of the cow-house with wooden pitchforks. 

"In the name of the law," said the official sternly, "I con 
fiscate the house and land of Daria Ugarova for non-payment 
of taxes since her husband s death. Men, do your duty." 

He nodded to the policemen. They took the cow away and 
began to put seals upon the cottage and the cow-house. 

"Neighbours! My generous friends!" wailed the woman, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 35 

raising her hands. "Come to my help! Make a collection 
among you! Pay my debt! You know my misery! My man 
was taken from me by the war! What could I do, a poor 
woman, unprotected, without a proper plough, without a 
helper? I went out to the fields myself, with only a wooden 
plough drawn by the cow you see and my two children. The 
cow is my breadwinner. It has saved us from starvation. Help 
me! Oh, my neighbours, pay my debt!" 

The villagers hung their heads and looked gloomily at the 
ground. Not one of them moved. Not one uttered a word. 

"Enough of that!" said the official. "You must leave your 
farm today. The headman will see to it that you do not break 
the seals until the affair is settled." 

He nodded and climbed to the carriage. The policemen fol 
lowed him, leading the cow on a rope. But the crowd did 
not disperse. They stood silently listening to the lamentations 
and prayers of Daria, who ripped open her linen belted blouse, 
tore her hair, and cried out piercingly like a wounded bird. 
Suddenly, Xenophon pushed his way through the crowd and 
went up to her. His chains clinked as he knelt down before 
the despairing woman; then, making the sign of the cross, he 
whispered a prayer, holding her with his fanatical eyes. 
Finally, he touched the ground with his forehead and said 
impressively: 

"Daria, handmaid of the Lord, have you nobody to protect 
you or these children whom Christ loves? Have you nobody 
to watch over you?" 

"Nobody! Nobody at all!" replied Daria, sobbing afresh. 
"They are lonely orphans, miserable orphans!" 

Half swooning, broken by despair, she leaned helplessly 
against the wall of the cottage. 

"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy 
Ghost, Amen!" cried the mendicant. "Then I, Christ s un 
worthy servant, will be your protector! We will go wander 
ing and begging food in heat and in frost, in rain and wind 



3 6 LENIN 

and blizzard, from village to village, from town to town, from 
monastery to monastery, over the whole immeasurable face of 
Holy Russia! We will be like the birds that sow not, neither 
do they reap: yet the Lord sends them a harvest which ripens 
in the hearts of good men. Do not despair! Dry your tears! 
Christ the crucified and His chaste Mother will send you help 
from Heaven! Make ready for a road that will be hard and 
long, until the day comes when there will be justice and a 
reward for the oppressed, for the tearful, for them that labour 
and are heavily laden! Come, let us go!" 

He took the children by the hands and started on. They did 
not resist, but went obediently, still softly crying. Daria looked 
after them in hesitation. Her desperate eyes lingered a while 
over the poor cottage, the ramshackle cow-byre, the scattered 
palings of the fence, the abandoned pail with some milk still 
left in it. She shrieked again and ran forward, overtaking 
Xenophon, who trudged along with his stick, preceded by the 
two tow-headed children, dishevelled and miserable. 

Various women, leaving the crowd, went back to their cot 
tages, and soon they surrounded the little group of exiles, press 
ing upon them bread, eggs, meat and coppers* 

"In the name of God," they whispered, as they gave their 
alms to Xenophon and Daria. 

"May Christ reward you," the mendicant replied, putting the 
gifts into his sack. 

The whole village went as far as the cross-roads with these 
old-time neighbours who were leaving their ancestral home. 
From that point the travellers went on to beg their way alone. 
Only Vladimir, concealing himself among the wayside shrubs, 
followed them further. 

Xenophon whispered his prayers as he walked. Daria cried 
fitfully. The children, reassured, and satisfied already with the 
change in their life, ran here and there to pluck flowers. 
Peasants in the fields were following their crude ploughs, with 
one blade roughly hammered out by the village smith, or even 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 37 

with a sharp root in place of a blade, drawn by small and 
scraggy horses. The lowered heads of the half -starved animals, 
the straining shoulders of the ploughmen, were eloquent of 
labour. The horses breathed heavily, the peasants encouraged 
them in panting chorus: "O-o-o-ay! O-o-o-ay!" To Vladimir 
there came once more the picture of the river-men, driven to 
the last despair, living under the rope that drew a heavy barge 
along the Volga. 

Suddenly the little girls walking at the side of the highway 
stopped dead, and looked down into the ditch* At the same 
time two youths bolted out of the ditch, shouting curses and 
obscene jests. After them crawled a girl, dishevelled and bare 
footed. She walked on mechanically, gathering about her a 
dirty pinned-up skirt, attempting to cover her naked shoulders 
and full breasts with a muddy linen blouse, torn down the 
back. Young Ulyanov knew her as the dumb cow-girl of the 
village. She stopped and ruminated like an animal, her dull 
and indifferent eyes fixed upon the plodding beggars. The 
youths having reached their plough, bent over it and went on, 
turning over the shallow mould and urging their horse with 
the old cry, mischievously: "O-o-o-ay! O-oo-ay!" 

Vladimir went no further. He sat behind the bushes at the 
wayside and wept bitterly. There was no good thing on earth. 
The blue, deep sky, the golden dust hazy along the road, the 
flowers in the fields, the green meadows, the hot and brilliant 
sun the whole scene was grey and miserable for him. Even 
in the song of the birds he heard but one tune, the tune of 
moaning lamentation. His crying ceased and a great hatred 
took possession of him instead. A hundred images pressed 
upon him in the grey dusk God, his father with a decoration 
upon his chest, the headman, the tall Police Officer Bogatov, 
the red-haired Serge, Dr. Titov, the wrinkled old witch, the 
pale priest, oppressed by the well-fed Father Makary, the naked 
breasts of the dumb girl. . . . 

And from the fields he still heard the deep, low lament 
of the ploughmen: "O-o-o-ay! O-o-o-ay !" 



38 LENIN 



CHAPTER IV 

VLADIMIR ULYANOV was never distinguished for frank 
ness or cheerfulness, but after he came home from the 
country even his school-fellows noticed a change in his 
expression, his voice and his bearing. He seemed to shun them 
and to avoid conversation with them. But in fact he was 
watching his friends very carefully. He was scrutinizing them, 
as though on a first meeting. 

In this way he passed in review the whole host of his com 
panions and asked them off-hand a few searching questions. 
He knew their types now! 

There was the Colonel s son who could talk only of the 
importance of his father, or his career and decorations, of the 
severity with which he would punish refractory soldiers by 
handing them over to a court-martial for a certain death- 
sentence. 

Another, the son of a tradesman, boasted about his parents 
wealth. He described at length the clever bargaining of the 
firm at the yearly fair at Nizhni-Novgorod and the method of 
bribery by which they supplied a consignment of mouldy cloth 
for army great-coats. 

Another, whose father was the governor of a gaol, discussed 
with brutal cynicism the minutest details of the torture meted 
out to convicts. He spoke of the garlic and herrings given 
them for food, of their water-supply being withheld, of a sys 
tem by which they were constantly awakened during the night, 
of sharp inquisitions upon prisoners worn out by suffering; he 
described also certain executions over which he had gloated 
from the window of his own room. 

The young and simple-minded Rozanov gloried in the fact 
that his father, a District Governor, received handsome gifts 
from various sources, and that he himself was wearing a suit 
of real English corduroy, which was given to him as a birthday 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 39 

present by a merchant who was negotiating with his father. 

Nick Shulov, a fat and expressionless creature, derided his 
father, who was a Canon of the Cathedral and Procurator of 
the Consistorial Court. He had at his finger-tips the exact 
sums paid to the canon by rich men who wanted to be 
divorced; and lie told many an anecdote about this respected 
prelate closeted in his office with his clients, while they con 
cocted evidence of unfaithfulness or adultery. This boy, al 
ready a cynic, made no bones about the dishonesty of his 
father. 

The unhappy Vladimir took their measure well. Then he 
began to describe what he knew of the peasants miserable and 
hopeless lives. One after another, he recounted the experi 
ences of his holidays: the tragedy of Daria Ugarova, the young 
priest s ominous prophecy, the death of Nastia, Xenophon the 
beggar, the miserable and ridiculous peasant plough in which 
a curved oak-root took the place of an iron blade. He de 
scribed the anarchy widespread over the countryside, the secret 
practices of the wise women, the illiteracy of the peasants and 
their vague expectations of a new order. 

"It s a terrible life," he declared earnestly. "If Pugatchov 
or Razin come again there will be a rebellion, sure as fate." 

"Go on with you!" said the Colonel s son scornfully. "That 
devil is not as black as you paint him. My father pushes in 
with his soldiers, they fire a volley c-r-r-r-ack and the busi 
ness is over! The beasts don t deserve more." 

The others laughed in support of this view. From that day 
Vladimir talked no more with the boys of his class. He was 
absorbed in his lessons from morning to night. One of his 
chief interests was to copy out passages which struck him in 
his reading and to add his own comments. On one occasion 
his brother Alexander chanced to go through this collection, 
and after that, although he said nothing, he was careful to put 
books in Vladimir s way. The boy particularly applied himself 
to the Latin classics, where he advanced so well that by the 



4 o LENIN 

time he reached the Fourth Class he hardly ever needed a 
dictionary* 

He disliked his teachers intensely and with good cause. The 
fat and stammering priest always reeled off his lessons straight 
out of the text-book, without even taking his eyes from the 
page. He required his pupils to know everything by heart, 
word for word, just as it was written; because the author of the 
text-book was His Grace Professor Sokolov, D. D., and it was 
approved and recommended by the Holy Synod. To all the 
questions of the boys (and some of them were nicely casuis 
tical) he used to reply in stereotyped phrases: "I have told you 
all you have to know about that. The answer is on page 76 of 
His Grace the Doctor s excellent book." 

Vladimir, from the time when his brother declared that 
God did not exist, was afraid of entering into a discussion 
with him on religious problems, but he had many doubts. At 
first lie wanted to consult the priest. He was referred to page 
10 1 of Dr. Sokolov s text-book. After that Vladimir gave up 
the struggle and applied to him no more. If called upon in 
class he recited by heart the exact words of the learned Doctor 
of Divinity, received full marks, and sat down in black despair. 

The teacher of Mathematics, Ugraf Ornamentov, a gigantic 
and untidy fellow, a chronic drunkard, who wore black dis 
guising spectacles on a large red nose, would every now and 
then pour out a stream of foul language when he forgot where 
he was. He was always in a temper because, although every 
year he had the same questions to answer, his pupils never 
learned how to do their sums. He would curse them explo 
sively for standing in a dumb row before the blackboard, like 
statues of the King of Heaven. Young Ulyanov was his only 
mainstay. When die Education Authorities came to inspect the 
place, the embarrassed Ornamentov could rely only upon him 
to solve at the blackboard the complex problems set by the 
representatives of the Ministry. 

Latin and Greek had been taught now for two years by an 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 41 

imposing man whose name was Arseny Kirilovitch Ilyin. He 
had a bass voice which turned easily into a sonorous tenor, ^a 
long black beard, a pale handsome face and blue eyes, gleam 
ing ironically behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. Rumor had 
it among the boys of the upper classes that the impressive Ilyin 
was a Don Juan always engaged upon an intrigue, for which 
reason he had been transferred froni Moscow to a provincial 
town. This proved to be true. Even Vladimir heard it spoken 
of at home, when his father joked to Maria Alexandrovna 
about Ilyin s romance with the wife of a School Inspector. It 
appeared that the poor School Inspector, sickened and ex 
hausted by an ill-spent life, married a young sempstress who 
started to betray him on the day after the wedding. She even 
lavished her attentions on the bigger boys of the school before 
the handsome Arseny Kirilovitch appeared on the scene. 

The Classics Master was well aware that his young wolves, 
as he called them, were fully primed with stories of his 
romantic escapades. Accordingly, when he entered the class 
room he would assume a mysterious and slightly ironical air, 
while his blue eyes were saying without words, "If you know 
anything about me keep it to yourselves." 

Ilyin became at once the idol of Vladimir s existence. The 
teacher knew from end to end the classics of Greece and Rome. 
He was an enthusiast for Ancient History. He remembered 
a thousand details of the ancient world. More, he could recite 
beautifully from the Iliad i the metres of Homer flowed from 
his lips like incomparable music. An unspoken friendship was 
established between teacher and pupil. 

On one occasion Ilyin met Vladimir in the street and stopped 
to talk. 

"Well, young wolf," he said with bantering friendliness, 
"you seem pretty fond of the classics. Do you intend to devote 
yourself to Philology?" 

"I don t know, Professor. I haven t made up my mind as 
yet," replied Ulyanov. 



42 LENIN 

"It s about time you did," remarked the teacher. "You ve 
come to die point where you must define your interests and 
choose the course of your life." 

"Yes, so I think. But ... but . . ." 

The boy stopped suddenly. 

"But what?" demanded Ilyin. 

"It always seems to me," said Vladimir slowly, "that life to 
day is unreal, artificial. It looks as though something were 
going to happen as though everything were going to be cut 
off short." 

The teacher grunted to himself and looked admiringly into 
the boy s serious face. 

"EPm. You ve got that idea in your head, have you?" 

"Yes, I have." 

"Well, then, you have no choice at all. Stick your head into 
Philology and keep it tl&re. Why, thoughts of that kind have 
been going through my mind for about thirty years. I keep on 
asking myself, Why on earth, Arseny Kirilovitch, do you re 
main in the company of these swine, rogues and dishonest 
fools, when you could enjoy the company of great men for 
many hours every day of Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Xenophon, 
Demosthenes, Cicero and Plato? " 

Unfortunately, when Vladimir was just passing to the Sixth 
Class, Ilyin was transferred to Moscow, taking with him the 
Inspector s wife. . . . Vladimir could not understand that at 
all Here was a beautiful world of old, a world of statues 
carved in marble, of mighty shrines hewn out of granite; and 
suddenly the whole universe of wonders, of geniuses, of great 
leaders, was brought to nothing by a strumpet, an Inspector s 
wife and an unintelligent sempstress into the bargain. He 
shrugged his shoulders and sloughed off any pity for the 
teacher. He found inconsistency and duplicity in his life, false 
hood in his advice. 

Ilyin s successor was quite without inspiration, an ignorant 
pedant. Vladimir could not be bothered with him. The 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 43 

teacher of Russian literature, Blahovidov, the product of a 
seminary, drove Vladimir into despair. The boy had decided 
opinions about Russian literature, which he had read very 
thoroughly. He knew the classics, but he disliked them be 
cause they were written chiefly about the nobility, the Czars, 
and the generals. He like Tchernyshevsky, Nekrasov, Tol 
stoy, and Koltzov, for they wrote about peasants. He laughed 
at Aksakov, who stood for the union of Russia with the western 
Slavs; in Khazan Vladimir had met deported Poles, so he 
understood the gulf between Poles and Russians. The teacher 
Blahovidov was in many ways not unlike the deaf priest. He 
would not let the boys go beyond the pages of an uninteresting 
and biased text-book, nor would he add any comments of his 
own. However, he did possess some ideas. He arranged Sun 
day lectures on literature, which were mainly in praise of 
those authors whose writings increa^hdevotion for the reign 
ing dynasty. All other authors hel(Rd rebels and traitors. 
The man was so perverse, his desire to be decorated and ad 
vanced for his loyalty was so obvious, that Vladimir, who dear 
ly wanted to argue with him, soon gave up in disgust. He 
dubbed him the Decorated Pig, a sobriquet which stuck to the 
ex-seminarist for the remainder of his career. 

When Vladimir was in the Seventh Class events occurred 
which were to decide the course of his future life. He passed 
the holidays with his brother Alexander who was then a 
graduate studying Mathematics, and Natural Science. On their 
walks together, Alexander found himself talking seriously with 
Vladimir, wondering at his knowledge, the depths of his 
thought and the convincing logic of his opinions. Then he 
told his younger brother about the revolutionary party called 
"The People s Will" of which he confessed to being a member. 

"What we want," he said, "is for the whole nation, most of 
all the peasants, who are the largest class in the nation, to have 
their say in the governing of Russia. We must compel the 
dynasty to call a constitutional assembly which will decide 



44 LENIN 

upon an established form of government. Only then will the 
illiteracy and the misery of the peasants be relieved." 

Vladimir listened attentively. Then he asked, "How are 
you going to force the Czar? Our nation is being ruled at 
present as though it were an unintelligent herd of sheep. Nor 
will the nation act for itself because it is riddled with suspicion 
and has no idea of solidarity. I have seen that everywhere 
among the peasants." 

"The Party looks for sympathizers among the liberal coun 
try gentry," replied Alexander. "It has influence enough; it 
can reach the ear of the Czar himself." 

"I wonder! If the peasants are to rule Russia it will not be 
in the interests of the country gentry. They won t help you," 
"Then we ll use terrorism," shouted Alexander. 

"Terrorism? Wha^ffpod did the bombs of Jeliabov and 
Perovskaya do you ? AY gave you Czar Alexander III and 
the old military rule cSTCzar Nicholas over again." 

Vladimir did not conceal his contempt. 

"Where did you learn all this?" asked his brother. 

"From our teacher of history/ answered Vladimir. "I mean 
Simon Alexander Ostapov, who was sent to our school in the 
middle of the year. But I am going to ask you one more 
question. Tell me, do you want to help all Russia, or only 
the peasantry?" 

"That s a strange kind of question," said Alexander in sur 
prise. "Of course we stand for the whole country from one 
end of Russia to the other." 

Vladimir smiled dryly. "If so," he observed offhand, "you 
are enjoying a pleasant dream." 

"Why?" 

"Because everybody will be disappointed in one way or 
another, and a constant internal struggle will go on. Suppose 
for a moment that the peasants have a majority in the Govern* 
ment. They only have one ambition, and that is to get as 
much land as possible. Ostapov declares that this is the only 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 45 

reason why the Czarist regime, pitiful though it is, has 
dragged on for so long. Acquisitiveness has become its ideal, 
and this responds to the dreams and appetites of the whole 
peasant class. But let s drop the subject. I am interested in 
quite another affair. All I can say is that when the peasants 
gain an influence over the Government they will be faithful to 
their old land-hunger and become at once the new landed 
proprietors. The dispossessed landowners and the proletarian 
villagers will smoulder in fury against them. And when that 
is multiplied all over Russia, what will be the good?" 

The brothers thrashed out this argument time after time. 
Alexander had to admit that Vladimir made him doubt seri 
ously whether the programme of "The People s Will" promised 
salvation after all. 

One day Vladimir said to his brother, "I wouldn t mind 
throwing a bomb at the Czar and hjJIks, but I shall never 
join your Party." ^r 

"Why not? 5 

"Because it is a collection of religious fanatics. Is there any 
reason why you should take peasants as your guides in thought 
and in action? Of course, peasants can shout enough, when 
the time comes, to drown the noise of bombs. After that they 
will do such deeds of terrorism as to make Jeliabov himself 
blush like a school-boy." 

"Did Ostapov tell you that as well?" 

"No. That s my own idea. I know your plan is useless, for 
the peasant is a bloodthirsty savage. He never makes any real 
complaint. He is attached neither to the past nor to the future. 
He has no principles and he is controlled only by brute force." 

After that they never touched on the subject of "The Peo 
ple s Will.** Alexander soon afterwards suggested that they 
should read together the works of Karl Marx. The book 
enthralled Vladimir at once. For its sake he gave up his 
favourite Latin classics and the use of Liibker s "Dictionary of 
Classical Antiquities" which had been his recreations. Now, 



46 LENIN 

he hurried through his daily home-work and turned to Marx, 
writing down page after page of quotation and personal com 
ments. When his brother expressed astonishment, Vladimir 
exclaimed with enthusiasm: 

"Here is all you need tactics, strategy, and a certain 
victory!" 

"It s all very well for an industrialized State/ was his 
brother s objection, "but not for our Holy Russia 5 with her 
wooden ploughs and smoky cottages and miracle-men." 

"It is good for one class fighting against the whole of so 
ciety/ replied Vladimir. 

At school everything went on as before. Vladimir remained 
at the head of his class, which would have been easy for him 
even with less effort, for most of his school-fellows would 
always be hopeless philistines. Though they were only youths 
of sixteen or seventJBkthey enjoyed drinking and gambling. 
They led loose liveUPfeking raids by night upon the suburbs 
and expeditions to the dark streets where the red lights of 
brothels burned defiantly. They made love as a matter of 
course with chambermaids, sempstresses and peasant girls who 
came to town for work. None of them read anything. They 
had no interests or ambitions except to finish with school and 
possibly with a university by hook or by crook; after which 
they would become civil servants without any more troubles 
in lives brightened every now and then by a fat bribe, a promo 
tion, a decoration or a high appointment. 

Those were days of decadence, of baseness and servility, over 
shadowed by the heavy hand of Alexander III. In Russia both 
the Church and the World yielded to the power of the dynasty. 
But it was a calm before a hurricane an oppressive fear 
brooded over the people, so that some sank into stagnation 
and some debased themselves abjectly before the throne of 
the Anointed. 

When Vladimir understood this he excused the Party of the 
People s Will for its poor and hopeless dreams. He felt that 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 47 

at least it was a spontaneous protest, though neither Russia nor 
the peasants really mattered to it. There was nothing to do 
but to shake the whole country, to rouse it from its lethargy . . . 
even with bombs. 

The bonds of friendship and spiritual accord between Vla 
dimir and Alexander were gradually broken without any ob 
vious cause. For Alexander the young schoolboy was too 
serious, too austere, too boldly seeking the truth. Moreover, 
Vladimir openly declared that he did not consider his brother 
a born revolutionary. For instance, while Alexander was pre 
paring a scientific paper he spent days on end bent over a 
microscope, studying some insects. A true revolutionary would 
not waste so much time on insects, thought Vladimir indig 
nantly. With rape and debauchery and hypocrisy on every 
side of him, Alexander could devote himself to bugs! Who 
needed to know whether or not the crdatures possessed a heart 
and brains ? It was enough to think of 1,200 millions of men 
without bothering about worms! Vladimir felt very lonely, 
and there was nobody with whom to share the thoughts surg 
ing up in him; nobody except Karl Marx, the bold dispas 
sionate thinker who revealed to the youth a new and absorbing 
truth. 

One Sunday Vladimir received a welcome invitation to visit 
Ostapov, whom he greatly admired. The young teacher, whose 
pale, almost translucent face accentuated the depths of his big 
brown eyes, greeted his visitor heartily. 

"I ve been wanting to see you here for a long time," he said, 
wringing Vladimir by the hand. "I want to apologize for the 
rubbish to which I usually treat the class. It is easily digested 
food, you see, but I am ashamed to give it to you. You are not 
just widely read. You are a man capable of understanding the 
nature of the present Golden Age/ 3 

The embarrassed Vladimir made some deprecating answer. 

"No, don t deny it," interrupted the teacher. "I can see it, 
and I know what I m talking about. Yet, what more can I 



48 LENIN 

do? The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I m not a 
hero. I fear my own shadow, not to mention the Curator of 
the district and the Governor of the school I am a weak sort 
of character, that s all." 

He ushered his pupil into a room where there were already 
a few guests, obviously new arrivals because Vladimir had 
never met them in the town. One of them, dressed in a stu 
dent s uniform, was speaking of life in the capitals. The 
picture he sketched with fluency and a gift for ironic narration, 
confirmed Vladimir s opinion that a party even of dreamers, 
like "The People s Will," was a necessity. 

"Yes, gentlemen," the student concluded, "I was deported to 
Siberia, as you know, and I tell you it is much better than 
St. Petersburg under the protecting wing of His Majesty Alex 
ander Alexandrovitch, Emperor of all the Russias. There 
people are full of hatred. They look forward to some new 
thing inevitably coming. In the capital there is nothing but 
an Egyptian darkness and chaos; and in the minds of the 
people nothing but the seven lean cows of Pharaoh s dream." 

"A hopeless situation," muttered one of the guests. 

"Yes and no," said the student, eagerly taking him up. 
"Though everybody tries not to think about the situation, they 
do feel that it can t last. Something must happen." 

"But what?" asked Ostapov. 

"I don t know! Only one thing s certain: that more and 
more people pass through a well-established university, the 
prison system. They graduate ready for anything!" He 
laughed. 

"Those fellows won t be our present type of home-made 
Jacobins whose souls are loyal despite the theatrical bombs 
they carry beneath their coats!" 

"Aha!" said Vladimir to himself, moving in his chair. The 
student looked at him suspiciously. 

"Lord!" he groaned. "Our host has invited a fledgling." 

"The brother of Alexander Ulyanov," whispered Ostapov, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 49 

adding aloud, "Vladimir Ilyitch is a sound man in spite of his 
years." 

"Good enough/ said the student. "Let me continue. I 
may tell you gentlemen that I have talked with Mihalovsky, 
Lepeshinsky and many others who have tasted prison bars and 
drunk the fresh air of Siberia. They have a different tale, 
though they are not quite so drastic as the people who are 
full of Karl Marx." 

"Which way do they tend?" 

"Oh, their direction is plain enough! They are not out for 
discussion. They want an all-Russian Revolution against the 
all-Russian Czar." 

The student shouted this boldly, eyeing his audience in 
triumph. He repeated it slowly and with emphasis. 

"An all-Russian Revolution . . . against the all-Russian 
Czar." 

A long silence followed. Nobody knew quite how to deal 
with such a serious statement. Suddenly the school-boy spoke. 
His face was pale but his set eyes were full of fire. His voice 
betrayed no emotion, unless it were a hint of cold mockery. 

"These fellows full of fresh Siberian air have learned nothing 
at all. Or else they have not understood Marx. As for the 
direction they take their rudder will turn out to be the very 
loyalty for which "The People s Will" has already been blamed. 
That is true, I admit. "The People s WiU" is loyal to the bottom 
of its soul The all-Russian Revolution cannot succeed. It is 
a ridiculous scheme. At the present moment the peasants will 
not rebel against the Church. Against the Police and the Doc 
tors, yes. But when they have cut the throats of their imme 
diate enemies they will crawl to the steps of the throne, bring 
ing to the Czar, as bribes, the heads of policemen. The 
Revolution must not be directed against the Czar. It must be 
directed against everything, so that stone will not remain upon 
stone, nor grass grow on the battlefield. That is not a Revoke 



50 LENIN 

tion for stupid and illiterate peasants but for one well-organ 
ized Party, inspired by one slogan." 

The visitors listened in astonishment to this youth, typically 
Mongolian with his high cheek-bones and narrow eyes. After 
a long silence the student clapped his hands and shouted, "I 
declare now that the whole world will know this youngster! 
Write down what I say! He has a great mind, I swear he has!" 

From that moment there was a closer understanding be 
tween Ostapov and his pupil. The teacher addressed his his 
tory lessons to the ears of Vladimir alone, showing a particular 
enthusiasm for the Decembrists, whom he greatly admired. 
Ryleyev, Pestel, Volkonski stirred his soul. He noticed, how 
ever, that Ulyanov listened with cold indifference, and 
Ostapov s enthusiasm was damped. 

"What do you think of the Decembrists?" he asked one day. 

"I call them Romantics. A Revolution started by the weak 
est and most despised class is only an adventure, a slight and 
unimportant episode." 

Ostapov was soon compelled to change the spirit of his 
lessons. Young Rozanov reported them to his father, who 
denounced the disloyal teacher to the Curator. Consequently, 
Ostapov was severely lectured by the Headmaster of the school, 
a man who was a Counsellor of State and a Knight of several 
Orders. 

A period of official lessons then set in, based upon the 
notoriously stupid text-book of Ilovaysky. Ostapov lectured 
monotonously, without taking his eyes from the book. He felt 
thoroughly ashamed of himself and Vladimir listened to him 
with contempt. One night Ostapov s servant girl came to 
Vladimir and asked him to call on the teacher about some 
urgent matter. Reluctantly he put on his overcoat and went. 
Ostapov was sitting in his unbuttoned dressing-gown with 
the neck of his shirt open. His unbmshed hair fell over his 
forehead, which was bathed in perspiration. His eyes were 
fixed and staring. Lost in thought, he did not even notice 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 5 ! 

Vladimir s arrival. The room was in disorder. On the table 
before which Ostapov sat was a large brandy bottle and a glass 
half-filled. There was also a mirror,, into which the drunken 
man would stare from time to time. 

"Come again, have you?" he muttered to his own image 
with an air of mystery. "What s the news now,, eh? You can t 
tell me anything fresh. No, nor anything worse. I ve heard 
the lot. You gave me a Devil s bargain and I signed it. D ye 
hear? I signed it, and be damned to you!" 

He bared his teeth and gave the mirror a terrible blow with 
his fist. It fell to the floor with a crash and tinkle of broken 
glass. After it went the bottle, the glass, and Ilovaysky s text 
book. Sobered by his anger, Ostapov raised his eyes and no 
ticed Ulyanov. 

"Ah," he drawled. "YouVe come, though . . . Ill tell you 
about that later. Sit down. Have a drink. It s good stuff, 
strong stuff aniseed brandy. Peter the Great, our Russian 
A.nti-christ, was fond of it. Yes, Peter the Great, the carpenter- 
Czar, the innovator, the conqueror of the decadent West. First 
tie sucked it dry and then he conquered it. A clever brute, 
that Peter the Great. The Czar with a big stick. He had a 
smoky cottage and he broke a window out of it that looked 
ill over Europe. Yes, he clipped the beards of our shaggy 
3oyars he wanted to make dandies out of them. A bit of a 
jester, too! Tortured his son in gaol because he loved the 
patriarchal spirit of Holy Russia, because he liked smoky cot- 
:ages, old customs, and lousy beards!" 

Vladimir sat motionless, wondering what was the matter 
ivith Ostapov now. 

"Yes, I m drunk!" the teacher laughed uproariously. 
Drunk! A Russian is happier than any other man. He has 
i shield against pain, despair and remorse. When a Westerner 
.s in trouble he shoots himself, goes into the river, or hangs 
3y his braces. That s an end to him. As for us, we float into 
Sfirvana, our Brandy Paradise! Ha! Ha! Ha! Yes, my boy, 



52 LENIN 

that s all you have to look forward to yourself! You have too 
much brain, too big a heart. Avdotya, fetch some brandy and 
two glasses! Be quick about it!" 

The frightened girl brought more brandy. Ostapov filled 
the glasses, and holding up his own proposed a toast in 
jumbled Latin. 

"In vino veritas. Ave, amice, morituri te salutantl 



"I won t drink," said Vladimir in disgust. 

"I m not fit for such a noble companion," Ostapov began in 
mockery. Then suddenly he became quiet, his face blanched, 
and he began to tremble. "You see, do you?" he muttered. 
"Look! There! There again! Like sparks! They glitter! 
Go away! There they arel Coming now! To shame me! 
To curse me!" 

Vladimir s eyes instinctively followed the direction of Os- 
tapov s pointing hand. Dusk brooded in the corners of the 
room. Mounting the walls were the faint shadows of a flicker 
ing lamp and of the candles on the writing-table. 

"There is nobody," he said quietly, watching the teacher. 

"Nobody there ? Not now! But they will come," whispered 
Ostapov. "They will not pardon me! They will come again!" 
He went on in reverie. 

"Judas betrayed Christ. He loved Him, though, even after 
he lost faith in the Messiah. He got thirty pieces of silver for 
Christ s head ; to show the whole world He was worth no more 
as a human being. What is more, he gave back the silver to 
the Sanhedrim. But little malicious devils set upon Judas. 
They laughed at him. They pinched and teased him. He 
wanted to drive them away, and they whispered to him, Go 
up the hill there, where you see the dead tree over the preci 
pice. 5 They kept repeating it, repeating it, the whole day, the 
whole night, and the next day again. Judas went and sat 
under the tree, looking at the brown plain and the dim length 
of the Jordan, far away. Then he saw before his eyes the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 53 

whole face of Christ. Yes, he saw the bruised mouth which 
had tasted gall and vinegar. He saw it move, he heard it 
whisper, Tou traitor! You sold your Lord! So Judas made 
a noose from the cord of his belt. Judas swung out over the 
precipice, a victim of conscience ... of conscience!" 

Ostapov rubbed his eyes and drank another glass of brandy. 
His eye roamed over the dark corners of the room. 

"Here come the devils! They come to me! I see them in 
the light! And dimly I can see five gallows . . . five bodies 
hanging . . * Pestel, Ryleyev, Bestuzhev, Katchovsky, Muravyev. 
They wanted to change the anti-Christian madness of Peter 
the Great. They wanted to save Russia, to enlighten her, to 
uplift her. They gaze at me with terrible eyes full of hatred, 
they shout with swollen lips, Traitor, Traitor." For I was 
afraid of the Curator. In humiliation I accepted reproof. I 
took pieces of silver to keep silence about the Holy Martyrs* 
I am silent like a traitor, like a coward! Oh, God! They 
are coining! Do you see them?" 

Vladimir calmed him with difficulty, helped him to dress, 
and took him from the room. They walked about the streets 
in silence for some time, and when Ostapov became sobered, 
Vladimir took him to his own home. There the lad gave 
Maria Alexandrovna an account of the evening and left Os 
tapov in her charge. He spent some days with them before he 
was taken away by his father, an old military doctor, to re 
cover his health and sanity. 

But Ostapov was never restored to his former even temper. 
After that night he led an uneventful life as a teacher, from 
day to day, from promotion to promotion, from decoration to 
decoration. He became dull and apathetic, like so many of 
the subjects of Alexander III, a Czar who loved peace; the 
peace of the dead. 



54 LENIN 



CHAPTER V 

BEFORE CHRISTMAS Mr. Ulyanov received a new appoint 
ment as Director of all the elementary schools in the 
district. He at once set out on a tour of inspection, 
accompanied by Vladimir, who was at that time on holiday. 
They travelled on mail-sledges, often penetrating into places 
untouched by the outside world, into settlements lying at the 
heart of mighty forests, where there were no churches, schools, 
doctors, or even local officials. 

Vladimir remembered from his history-lessons that the whole 
district of Khazan used to form a powerful and highly civilized 
Bulgarian state, of which no trace now remained except the 
name of the river Volga. The Tartars of the thirteenth cen 
tury, driving before them innumerable tribes, poured westward 
out of Asia in a Mongol swarm. Everywhere Vladimir came 
in contact with tribal remnants, Votyak, Mescheriak, Tcheremi, 
Tchuvash and Mordvin, living side by side with the Tartar 
and Russian peasants. They were a horde without history, 
preserving among themselves differences of clothing, religion, 
speech and custom, which were always primitive, sometimes 
savage and cruel. 

A ruthless enmity prevailed between settlements inhabited 
by distinct tribes. The Russians despised their old invaders, 
calling them "Tatarva" or "white-eyed Tchuds" and their con 
tempt was returned with interest. No Russian peasant would 
dare to approach a Tchuvash or Tcheremi village unaccom 
panied; a lonely Votiak or Tartar took his life in his hands 
when he went among Russians. It was even a common thing 
for an argument to arise, and for a scuffle to follow it, in front 
of the local church on a Sunday morning. And the children at 
school behaved no differently from their parents at church. 

Vladimir once witnessed an instructive scene of this sort him 
self. During a halt at a small village for food and fresh horses 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 55 

the lad went down to the ice-bound river where he noticed that 
a large crowd was gathering, receiving reinforcements rapidly 
as small groups came out from either bank. First he en 
countered a party of women and children, among whom he 
learned that there was an old feud between two riverside villages 
over the possession of an island which lay between them; and 
that now they were determined to settle the matter once and 
for all in a set battle. First of all the two armies hurled insults 
at one another. Then the small boys began to skirmish, and 
all the youths were soon engaged. But it was not long before 
their ineffectual battle was overwhelmed by the melee of men 
who held heavy stones in their hands and had their fists bound 
with leather thongs, like the ancient gladiators. The strongest 
of the men, upon whom victory depended, laid about them 
with long staves. The struggle did not last long, for the 
Votiaks soon gave way before the bold attack of the Tartars 
from the opposite bank. A few, killed or wounded, lay where 
they had fallen on the snow. Blood shone upon the surface of 
the ice like scarlet poppies. 

Young Ulyanov wondered how all the aborigines of Finn 
and Mongol stock, hating each other, could be welded into 
unity for any common end. He was sure, at least, that the 
party of the People s Will was deceiving itself. He thought 
ironically that they could not unite the peasants when every 
village had its own battle-cry. 

In larger villages the new schools were visited one by one. 
Vladimir took note of the teachers, both men and women, 
some of whom welcomed the new Director openly, having 
nothing to conceal They used the same old text-books, recom 
mended by the Church and the Ministry, and they conscien 
tiously followed the same stultifying and deceptive programme. 
The majority of the teachers, however, as the observant youth 
noticed at once, had no real loyalty to express. In their con 
versations with the Director they were diffident and chose their 
words carefully. It was easy to see in their whole bearing a 



56 LENIN 

feeling of unfriendliness for the representative of the Govern 
ment. But Mr. Ulyanov did not notice it. He saw nothing 
wrong in the system, and he listened indifferently to com 
plaints about salaries, about poor living conditions, or about 
the distrust of the schools shown by the people, which 
amounted to enmity against all schools and all teachers. He 
considered such questions to be the responsibility of the central 
authorities, not his own. His task was to see that the system 
was working. So he departed, pleased and undisturbed, with 
out a suspicion that the teachers were secreting pamphlets sent 
out by the People s Will wherein the authors dealt more freely 
than did official and highly paid scholars with the history of 
Russia. 

Vladimir came home depressed. He knew that the peasants, 
divided into hostile tribes, had no solidarity, that they could 
not be brought together by principles. He saw an unfathom 
able gulf between village and town, between the peasantry and 
the intelligentsia, whom the peasants profoundly distrusted for 
their knowledge and customs, seeing in them a personification 
of the Government or else simply the work of the Devil. 

Only a Genghiz Khan or some other powerful invader, 
thought Vladimir, could manage the peasants. In olden times 
his mighty hand guided them to the conquest of the world 
which was his goal. They had not changed; today a Khan 
was needed still, or some brutal Anti-christ of Russia, a Peter 
die Great, a reformer and a dreamer who could wield power 
without mercy. 

The lad described his impressions freely in the family circle 
of Ostapov, where he was very popular and called by his pet 
name "Vola" (and when he first heard it from the lips of their 
golden-haired daughter, Helen, he blushed to the tips of his 
ears). Old Dr. Ostapov listened in astonishment to the stories 
of this serious boy who spoke with all the settled conviction of 
an adult. His logic, his thought, free from exaggeration or 
enthusiasm, his plain and forcible dialectic, all made a strong 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 57 

impression on the old physician. They had long talks to 
gether, which the lad much preferred to hearing the disillu 
sioned teacher s opinions. 

On one occasion, when Vladimir said with deep conviction 
that men could change their attitude towards law and morality, 
the younger Ostapov interrupted bitterly, "Nothing of the 
sort will happen. Russia is doomed to perish!" 

Everybody present felt repulsion for one who could so give 
way to despair. Only Ulyanov looked at the speaker atten 
tively and replied: 

"Russia holds one hundred and thirty or one hundred and 
fifty millions of people. The whole earth contains a popula 
tion of two billions, who feel and suffer the same things. 
Let Russia perish, that the all-human truth may prevail!" 

"No," said the old Doctor emphatically. "That s going too 
far." 

"Well, we can t set up a purely Russian truth," retorted 
Vladimir. "It does not exist by itself at all." 

"Then what about the all-human truth ?" 

"That will be worked out by the whole world: the English, 
the Hindus and the black races together. With co-operation 
all will be well." 

"What sort of truth do you mean?" asked the teacher. 

"I don t know yet, but I feel it here, and here." As he 
said this, Vladimir touched his forehead with his finger. 

In the corner Helen was sitting, bent over her needle-work. 
At Vladimir s last words she raised her eyes to his; when he 
pointed to his forehead she looked down at her work again 
and sighed softly. A little later, when she found herself alone 
with him, she asked, "Are you sure that the truth resides in 
the brain?" 

"Yes," he answered. "And only in the brain." 

"I don t think so," she said, shaking her fair head. "Great 
ideas can rule mankind only when they are changed into feel 
ings. What I mean is that, with regard to the creation, con- 



58 LENIN 

firmation and acceptance of truth, the heart should have its 
say/ 9 

"Noi" he replied brusquely. "For when the heart directs, 
compromise follows. I can t stand compromise! I don t recog 
nize it!" 

"Will you never follow the voice of your heart?" 

"Never! The heart is the enemy of reason." 

She sighed and said no more, but bent lower over her em 
broidery. 

"Why do you, sigh, Lena?" asked Vladimir. 

For a long time she did not reply. He waited patiently, 
watching the lamplight lingering on her smoothly combed 
hair and caressing her long, thick plaits, 

"Because I feel sad," she answered at last, and sighed again. 

"I feel sad," she repeated, and suddenly looked at him with 
her large blue eyes full of warmth. "You re a bad boy, Vola," 
she said. 

Vladimir was silent. 

"You love nothing in life, Vola, do you?" 

"I want happiness and truth for everybody in the whole 
world," he said thoughtfully. 

"That means you do love something?" 

"Not at all Reason is enough for what I want." 

"And don t you love somebody?" Helen whispered after a 
while, with her soft eyes full upon him. 

He wanted to reply. But suddenly he felt embarrassed, and 
with a deep blush on his cheeks he began to turn over the 
pages of an illustrated edition of Pushkin which lay upon 
the table. 

"For example, Vola," her low voice went on, "do you love 
me?" He started violently and his face became set. "Vola, I 
love you as I do my father, as I used to love my mother. No, 
I love you as I love God." 

Then he spoke, bitterly. "Your comparison is not very con- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 59 

vincing, Lena* God is an old-fashioned idea which we have 
not yet outgrown." 

He did not look into her face, however. He feared her eyes, 
filled with the warmth of real feeling. 

"For me God does exist," she whispered. "I love Him. 
Next to God I love you." 

"Lena!" he exclaimed. His voice had almost a note of sup 
plication in it. He did not so much see as feel that she reached 
out to him her soft and dimpled hand. He caught her to 
him, almost brutally, until he felt her throbbing heart against 
his breast. He held her close to him, ardently kissing her cold 
and shivering lips. 

"I am yours for the whole of my life, until my last breath," 
she murmured in ecstasy. 

"For the whole of my life," he repeated, and suddenly a 
chill crept over him. He did not know if he felt that her 
passionate words were actually insincere, or if a sense of fore 
boding had overwhelmed him. Helen, in her woman s way, 
was planning out her whole life. . . . "Vola will graduate from 
the University and become a lawyer. He will defend only 
the unhappy and the oppressed, like Dark who went begging. 
I shall study medicine so that I may heal the poor and the 
abandoned. . . ." 

Their conversation was cut short by the entrance of the 
teacher to call them both to supper; but after this Vladimir 
did his best to pass all his spare time with the Ostapovs. He 
even gave up Karl Marx whose spirit seemed too cold and ruth 
less for a youth immersed in his first love-affair. 

When Maria Alexandrovna sensed the turn of events she 
was delighted. "Lena is a very fine girl," she confided to her 
husband. "She is dependable and she comes from a good 
family. I hope I shall be spared to see them make a successful 
match." 

"You are right, my dear," agreed Ulyanov. "Her father is 



60 LENIN 

a General and the best doctor in the town as well. It is a 
splendid alliance." 

"It is far more important that she should be a good-hearted 
girl/ said Maria Alexandrovna reprovingly. 

Nobody knew that all the time Vladimir was passing 
through agonies of doubt. He felt that he was betraying some 
thing much more important than his own personal ambitions. 
He recalled the drunken Ostapov and his talk of Judas, and 
his remorse of conscience. Now at last he understood Judas 
because he felt that some intangible treason was bound up with 
his love for Lena. He asked himself why he did not abandon 
her, as he had abandoned his skates and his Latin authors, 
so that he might be free for his real work for Marx, for his 
private notes, for his books. 

But he was unable to conquer himself. As often as he could 
he visited the Ostapov family, to feast his eyes upon Lena s 
blue eyes and golden hair. A shiver of excitement passed over 
him when he saw her knitting her brows to catch the full 
meaning of all he had to say. Vladimir was too young to 
know that he did not really love this girl when he could place 
her among the distractions which kept him from his work. 

He continued to struggle against the absorption of first love. 
He struggled . . . and he yielded. He shook off its spell and 
again accepted it in moments of weakness. He was like some 
saint of old putting away all the pleasures of the world and 
retiring into the desert only to find the hallucinations and 
visions of the desert as tempting as the world he had left. In 
the same spirit Vladimir scorned himself and loathed the weak 
ness of his spirit. He mortified himself as though he were a 
Christian ascetic whose Lord wore a crown of thorns. But 
Vladimir could call upon no God. There was no Saviour to 
demand his sacrifice; there was only an insistent temptation to 
surrender all his strength of intellect and power of will for the 
beauty of Lena s eyes. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 61 

After Alexander Ulyanov had finished his day s work over 
his insects and his microscope, he was accustomed to entertain 
a group of his friends. In the evenings his room at home was 
clouded with tobacco smoke and echoed with the debates of 
young students. If by any chance the father of the house ap 
peared, immediately the conversations switched over to the 
commonplace topics of the day, because it was known that 
Mr. Ulyanov was proud of his cross of St. Vladimir which 
conferred upon him hereditary rights of nobility. Neverthe 
less, disturbing fragments of conversation reached his ears in 
the room of his elder son. He knew that they were talking 
of revolution, of the People s Will, of Zheliabov. He rebuked 
his son bitterly, telling him that his disreputable acquaintances 
would lead the whole family to destruction; and in fact it was 
not long before rumors of the meetings reached the ears of 
the Police Inspector, who called Mr. Ulyanov to his office. It 
was a sad moment for the Knight of St. Vladimir when he 
was warned in a friendly way to keep an eye on his house 
hold, and particularly on Alexander Ilyitch, a youth, as the 
Police Inspector said, of uncommon attainments who was un 
fortunately affected by the criminal ideas of the Masons and 
revolutionaries who had killed the holy Czar, Alexander the 
Liberator. 

That evening there was a terrible scene between father and 
son, in which the father became so excited that he had a slight 
stroke. For two weeks he was ill in bed, and Dr. Ostapov 
was called in to treat him. But Alexander transferred his meet 
ings elsewhere and from that time peace and accord were re 
established in the family. Alexander pleased his father by 
proposing to play his favorite game of chess with him and 
the old man never alluded to the student s behavior, which 
was so unbecoming in the son of a knight. 

Vladimir s suspicions of Alexander s activities were also 
lulled until one evening he chanced to pick up the book 
which he saw tucked away under his brother s pillow. He was 



62 LENIN 

astonished to feel its weight in his hand, and when he ex 
amined it he found that it was a cleverly constructed fake, 
made of iron, and hollow. A terrible realization flashed across 
his mind. He understood everything now, but when his 
brother returned that evening he did no more than rebuke 
him for his careless choice of hiding places. 

The discovery upset Vladimir in quite a personal way. He 
reflected that insects did not prevent Alexander from becoming 
a revolutionary; while, as for himself, Lena was making him 
lose sight of the revolution. He felt that he must part with 
her, and yet he could not. The discovery made in his brother s 
room tormented him, but he could find no solution for his 
problem. He became pale and thin, and his mouth set in hard 
lines. He felt like a soldier called upon for the first time to 
carry out a sentence of death. 

The intensity of his struggle was redoubled when his father 
suddenly died in the autumn of 1886, for then Lena alone 
knew how to console his distracted mother, how to soothe her 
pain and loneliness. Maria Alexandrovna had never respected 
her husband, but she needed his companionship after all the 
years in which they had shared fortunes and misfortunes. She 
had loved him more as a mother would, in the knowledge that 
this man, whose blood was half that of a Kalmuk from 
Astrakhan, had only made his career by her efforts and en 
couragement. Her daughters, who were clever and intelligent 
women, were now more than ever enthusiastic about Lena, 
whom they treated entirely as a sister-in-law. Only Vladimir 
saw no future, not even the future of his ambitious dreams. 
From one day to another he waited for the next blow that 
would fall upon his family, to change and to destroy it all 
He saw it coming more clearly than his brother could ever do. 
Vladimir had no illusions and no hopes. 

In March of the next year, when Vladimir was in the 
Seventh Class, a rumor suddenly went round that on the 
anniversary of the death of Alexander II a plot against the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 63 

reigning Czar had been discovered in St. Petersburg. It was 
true. And not only was Alexander Ilyitch among the con 
spirators arrested but his sister Anna was also thrown into 
prison as a suspect. The widowed Maria Alexandrovna, over 
whelmed by this latest disaster, resolved to set out for St. 
Petersburg. Her children did not want her to go by herself, 
but when they applied for assistance to old and tried friends 
they found that not one of them wanted to incur the anger 
of the authorities or to show friendship for a family whose 
criminal son had raised his hand against the Czar. At some 
houses the young Ulyanovs were even refused admittance. 

In the end it was Lena Ostapov who set out with Maria 
Alexandrovna under the pretense of making arrangements 
about her medical course. But the visit was of no avail. The 
poor mother could not help her son. The Czar Alexander, "the 
friend of peace/ knew well how to take revenge upon the 
enemies of his anointed rule. The mother s request that the 
sentence of death might be commuted to perpetual imprison 
ment was rejected, and in the dark inner yard of the fortress 
of Schluesselburg, which had witnessed, since the days of Peter 
the Great, an unceasing round of cruelties practised upon the 
enemies of despotism, Alexander Ulyanov was hanged. 

So Maria Alexandrovna came back to her home. She was 
outwardly calm but her hair had turned grey, her eyes had 
lost their life, and her whole body shook with an unceasing 
palsy. On the day after their return Lena asked Vladimir to 
visit her, and he saw then how great was the change that had 
come over his sweetheart also. A shadow hung over her bright 
and pleasant disposition. Her blue eyes now held a cold and 
steady purpose and her fresh, red lips were marked with a new 
self-control. Even her pretty, childish blush was a thing of the 
past; and her voice had taken on a note of metallic hardness. 

She greeted him without her old smiling enthusiasm. For 
some time she was silent, searching Vladimir s hard and serious 
face. 



64 LENIN 

"It is well/ she said finally. 

He looked at her in astonishment. 

"Vladimir, you have suff ered, and you have found an outlet 
for sorrow and for anger." He was silent and she went on. 
"I know that this is no time for you to think of yourself, of me, 
of love, or of a happy life. No, this is a time to plan revenge 
for the death of Alexander." 

She had divined his thoughts. 

"Yes, now is the time!" said Vladimir firmly. 

"I was given accounts of the conspirators trial, Vola. There 
was a small group of them. The ringleaders threw all the 
responsibility upon Alexander and his closest friends. The 
Party fell into a panic, and separated, and hid itself. The 
cowards! The beasts!" 

Vladimir frowned and was silent. 

"Vola, you must show the Government that the struggle is 
not at an end. The bomb that was not thrown must be thrown 
by another hand! The anger of the people must have voice! 
I know that you have thought out the whole position. You 
have decided to take up the work of your murdered brother. 
Is it not so, Vola? Tell me! Speak!" 

He hung his head in silence. * 

"Speak, Vola!" she whispered passionately. "Your sisters 
have sworn to take vengeance on the Romanovs but you are 
silent. Are you afraid?" 

He raised his eyes. His face was steady and determined. 

"I am not afraid," he answered hoarsely. 

"Then what have you decided ?" 

He spoke now as though in self-confession, without looking 
at Lena at all. 

"I knew long ago that my brother intended to make an at 
tempt on the Czar. I found that he was preparing a bomb in 
his study. The discovery astounded me. I did not doubt for 
a moment that the attempt would lead to his death. If he 
failed he would be hanged by Alexander III. If he succeeded 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 65 

he would be hanged by Alexander s successor. There was no 
other issue, there could not be. I had the opportunity to save 
his life then either by persuading him to give up the attempt 
or by telling my mother everything I knew. I said nothing. 
Nobody knows what tortures I went through. But I allowed 
Alexander to leave here with his bombs ... to go to his death. 
What else could I do? A man ought to live for an idea and 
an object, forgetting himself. Who can interfere?" 

He stopped, and his haggard eyes stared vacantly before him. 

"And now what are you going to do? Suffer in silence?" 

Vladimir looked into her face with a deep intensity and said, 
with an emphasis upon every word, "The next bomb will not 
be thrown by me. That is mock-heroism, a foolish and miser 
able melodrama, an aimless spilling of blood. I swear revenge 
upon the Romanovs, but my time has not yet come. And 
when my time does come, blood will flow ... a sea of blood! 5 * 

"What if your time never comes?" 

"It will! I shall hasten it!" he replied, crashing his clenched 
fist down upon the table. 

Lena was startled by his vehemence. She thought at first 
that he was only a boy after all, making empty boasts to de 
ceive her as well as himself, in justification of his cowardice 
and inertia. 

Then she looked into his piercing eyes, fixed upon her face. 
They held her like the eyes of a bird of prey. They burned 
and scarred the very marrow of her being. She felt that he 
was everything that she was, and every thought in her mind. 

"I am not afraid of anything on earth," he said. "I don t 
want to deceive anybody. My heart tells me to plan the assassi 
nation of the Czar at once. But my reason tells me that the 
time for revenge will come only when the accounts of the past 
have been drawn up for settlement and when the scheme of 
the future has been decided upon. Lena, I am the man who 
will do both these things." 

A mighty power and a living enthusiasm vibrated in his 



66 LENIN 

muffled voice. For a moment, but only for a moment, the 
revelation frightened her and she surrendered to it. Then a 
terrible suspicion of his sincerity swept over her. She felt that 
he wanted to turn her mind away from the necessities of the 
moment, and she looked at him with silent reproach. Vladi 
mir s eyes were like a hawk s again, and a smile passed over his 
pale face. He rose to his feet, hesitated visibly for a moment, 
and said in abrupt tones, 

"Lena, I may go now without more explanations. I know 
that you are thinking of me. I shall not explain. I am follow 
ing my own plan. But I tell you that you are the only creature 
I have ever loved. I shall come back to you when all that I 
have spoken of is fulfilled." 

"Vola," she whispered. "You will be in my mind forever." 

She expected that he would take her in his arms as he had 
always done, and press her to his heart. But he looked down 
at her with his old enigmatic and inscrutable expression, say 
ing to himself with scorn and hostility, "She has not believed. 
She thinks that I am a coward!" 

At once she became a stranger to him, unnecessary to his life. 
If he stayed for another moment, if she said another word, she 
might become even an enemy to be hated. So he left her with 
out a backward glance. 

Vladimir soon found that he did not suffer for the loss of 
Lena, nor did he long to be with her again. As soon as school 
was over he went home to be with his mother. He studied 
and read feverishly, becoming, as time went on, more silent 
and concentrated. When Maria Alexandrovna asked him why 
he no longer visited the Ostapovs, he gave her to understand 
that they were afraid of any connection with the family of a 
criminal. "Let the little teacher get his precious decoration if 
he wants it so badly," was his laughing conclusion. 

In his own room, however, he reflected that it was a low 
trick to misrepresent his old sweetheart, Lena, and the poor 
broken-down teacher, in the eyes of his mother. "Oh well" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 67 

he made a scornful gesture to dismiss the whole affair "noth 
ing is wrong that leads you most quickly and most surely to 
your goal. I shall have no more trouble now, at any rate." 
And in fact he soon forgot all about it. 

In preparation for his final examination he worked like a 
madman, and as a result he passed with the highest honors. 
He was awarded a gold medal by his school and entered the 
University of Khazan as a student of Law. He spent his first 
holidays with his mother and sisters at the home of an aunt, 
where the first news he heard was that Dr. Ostapov and Lena 
had left for St. Petersburg. Lena s brother, the teacher, had 
gained his promotion and was now a School Inspector at Ufa. 

Vladimir sighed when he heard about Lena. But, introspec 
tive as ever, he realized that he sighed from relief rather than 
from sorrow. He knew now that he was unfettered. "I have 
lost what was dear to me," he reflected. "I have won the most 
valuable thing of all my own freedom." 

The young student realized his power. 



CHAPTER VI 

LIFE in the University of Khazan was fuller than life in 
the capitals, though conducted under the unceasing 
vigilance of political police, to which some of the pro 
fessors and students were attached. The majority at Khazan 
were frankly careerists, but there existed as well many groups 
of students who dreamed of a new order in Russia. All of 
them, however, gave allegiance to the People s Will or to the 
Social Revolutionaries. 

Vladimir Ulyanov was at once drawn into these circles and 
frequented their secret meetings. Moreover, he volunteered to 
write some pamphlets and leaflets in support of the peasant 



68 LENIN 

policies. But his compositions were always rejected indig 
nantly, for they far from corresponded with the ideas of the 
leading men and innumerable heresies were detected in them; 
more than one of his statements were considered rank treason 
against the ideals of the Party. Ulyanov soon ceased to asso 
ciate with his revolutionary friends and awaited an opportu 
nity for attack upon the People s Will as a whole, which he had 
now thoroughly examined. 

He did not have long to wait. In protest against the brutal 
ity of the police, the students of Moscow and St. Petersburg 
proclaimed a strike and refused to frequent their universities. 
The students of Khazan followed their example. At a meet 
ing held in the College Hall a leader of the Social Revolution 
aries spoke at length, advocating a sharp protest against the 
ruling system and demanding that the Constitutional Assembly 
should be summoned. 

The very next speaker was a short, thick-set student of defi 
nitely Mongolian type. As soon as he appeared on the plat 
form a whisper ran through the hall, "That s the brother of 
Ulyanov who was hanged." Vladimir heard it. He looked 
evil and truculent as his eyes swept over the crowd before him. 

"Friends!" he began. "My speech will not be a long one. I 
want only to call you a flock of sheep. Yes, and led by a goat 
at that!" 

A groan of anger and surprise went up from the meeting. 
"Throw him out!" a few voices cried; and from other parts 
of the hall there were shouts of approval. 

"Your leaders are dreaming," he went on, "when they think 
that the Czar and his Ministers will give in to their foolish 
demand for the Constitutional Assembly. They think they 
can force the Government by petitions and isolated acts of 
terrorism. Friends, that is a fool s policy." 

"Throw him out! Shut his mouth!" The meeting was 
against him. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 69 

*Tes, a fool s policy! Remember that! The Czar is an 
anointed ruler and he knows it!" 

"Bravo, Ulyanov!" shouted a group of loyal students. 

"Don t mention names! There are spies amongst us!" shout 
ed others. When the disturbance subsided, Vladimir s voice 
was heard once more. 

"The Czar, the anointed ruler, maintains that his power 
comes from God and not from this world. He was brought 
up to think so. His whole mind is different from ours. He 
does not know bourgeois morality. He is no bourgeois coward. 
Yes! The Czars are courageous men! It is nothing to them 
to cut short the lives of their subjects. They are equally will 
ing to sacrifice their own lives. Do you think they can be 
frightened by terrorism? Do you think they can t afford to 
ignore the weak protests of students and the silly formulas of 
the People s Will about the Constitutional Assembly ? So why 
don t the Social Revolutionaries demand the distribution of 
land in the moon?" 

"Bravo!" interrupted someone cheerfully. That s one for 
the Jacobins." 

By this time the more ardent democrats were on their feet 
and shaking their fists at Vladimir. They were howling with 
rage. "Chuck him out! He is an agent provocateur! He is a 
spy! He is trying to break the proletarian strike!" 

"Will you let me finish or will you not?" asked Ulyanov 
hoarsely. "Are you afraid of the truth?" 

His supporters cried out that he should be heard, and at last 
comparative silence obtained. Vladimir took up his argument 
again. 

"The calling of the Constitutional Assembly means that the 
flunkeys of the Czar would lose their power at Court. There 
they are paid and fed liberally. They doze all day in their 
cosy corners. Do you think they are so stupid as to help you? 
But who else is there to obey the unsupported demands of our 
Jacobins, who wear official caps and have the souls of flunkeys 



70 LENIN 

themselves. They seem to be in rebellion at the moment, but 
all they dream of in the end is a comfortable seat at the Czar s 
dinner-table. Who else is there to back you up? Is there 
anybody ?" 

The revolutionaries broke out again in fury and the loyalists 
joined the few impartial spirits in delight over the scene. A 
variety of shouts and slogans came from all parts of the hall. 
"Traitor! Blackmailer! He s a detective! Long live the Peo 
ple s Will! He s a sport! Thats pricked the bubble!" 

But they settled down to listen again when the bold speaker 
lifted his hand and tamed them with his eyes. 

"You have chosen the wrong method, comrades! You want 
to protest, do you? Very well, I ll go all the way with you. 
iBut the place to go is the barracks, to the soldiers, to the peas 
ants sons. Let us get arms and gather forces. Let us prove 
that we know how to back our demands, and to give our lives 
for what we want! Let us go! but at once, without delay, 
for in an hour s time we shall be trapped by spies, aided by 
loyalist cowards. But the People s Will Revolutionaries will 
go into hiding, leaving behind somebody as a victim, because 
the leaders must be preserved to write pamphlets full of non 
sense and pretty fairy tales!" 

Pandemonium broke loose. It was by this time impossible 
to proceed with the meeting, for shouts were giving place to 
blows and a scuffle began at the foot of the platform. Ulyanov 
stood motionless, judging the unworthy scene. During a lull 
he said ironically, and his voice was heard, "Gentlemen, this 
is exactly what a meeting of the Russian Constitutional As 
sembly would be like. But I shall scatter it all to the four 
winds." 

He left the dais quietly, holding with his eyes the students, 
who gave way before him, though they cursed him as he 
passed, and left the hall. In the corridor he found two of his 
friends awaiting him. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 71 

"Now, let s make a bolt for it," he whispered. "They ll be 
after me in a moment" 

They ran away as fast as they could go. But Vladimir was 
right in his forecast, for soon the students rushed in crowds 
from the hall and pursued the fugitives. At the same time 
the police and the University authorities appeared on the scene. 
Caught between two fires, Vladimir Ulyanov was arrested. 
The University Council discussed with the administrative offi 
cers whether the prisoner should be brought before the courts 
or punished in some other way, and it was finally decided that 
he should be expelled from the University of Khazan and de 
ported to Kokushkino under police supervision. All the au 
thorities agreed that he had very effectively riddled the Party 
of the People s Will and paralyzed their attempt to provoke 
trouble among the students. 

"I wouldn t mind taking that young fellow into the secret 
police," observed the Colonel of gendarmes. 

"He wouldn t take on the work/ said the University Inspec 
tor dubiously. 

"No, I suppose not. What s more, I wouldn t be certain of 
him as an agent. He might play a double game there have 
been such cases before now." 

On the same day Vladimir, escorted by a bewhiskered ser 
geant of gendarmes, departed from the town. It occurred to 
him on his way that if Lena Ostapov had lived in Khazan 
and heard his speech she would have put him down for a spy 
and a traitor. The idea made him smile, and he remarked to 
his escort, "Life is a funny story, isn t it, sergeant?" 

"Well," he replied gruffly, "I see little fun in it, for one. A 
small salary, and a lot of work," 

"Careful, sergeant," said Vladimir, in high good humor. "I 
fear you ll join the People s Will, for they defend the oppressed 
and they may offer you more pay." 
"You re joking, sir, and I don t feel in a laughing mood at 



72 LENIN 

the moment. My wife is going to have a child in a month 
and there is no chance of supplementing my pay." 
. The sergeant continued to groan over his misfortunes, but 
Vladimir felt no less cheerful. The farther he went from 
Khazan the more his joy increased. Although the fields were 
covered with snow and the frost increased from hour to hour, 
he had an illusion that spring had begun, a spring unleashing 
all the abundant energy of life. 

He was completely free now. He had broken with every 
thing that bound him to the regular monotonous life of the 
bourgeois. He could start to advance on the road he had 
planned out for himself. His future was assured. He felt in 
his mind that he was destined to fulfill it, to carry into reality 
all the thoughts which for years had hardened in his brain. 
Now he would set himself to learn everything; nothing should 
come between him and knowledge. He knew that there would 
be no immediate political complications in his new life, for he 
had finally broken with the People s Will, and certainly no 
member of the organization would come near him. On the 
other hand he would be under the constant surveillance of 
police spies, so that every step he took and every word he 
uttered would be known to the authorities. Vladimir smiled 
at these reflections as though they brought him the greatest 
happiness. 

In his lodgings at Kokushkino he devoted himself day after 
day to the most intense study. Within two years he mastered 
the whole course set by the Faculty of Law and made appli 
cation to sit for the examinations at Khazan or at St. Peters 
burg, but he was peremptorily refused. Next, he asked for a 
permit to live abroad, which the authorities also refused to 
grant him; but he learned at least that his expulsion from 
Khazan was reduced to three years, and within a few months 
after he was allowed to return. He soon found, however, that 
the University from which he had once been expelled now held 
no attraction for him, so he moved on to Samara. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 73 

During this period Vladimir achieved an enormous amount 
of work. In particular., he mastered the whole subject of soci 
ology and he studied Karl Marx ver|| carefully from many 
angles, so that his stay in Samara made him a convinced 
Marxian theorist. 

And yet he had no use for theories as such. He scorned 
them, just as he despised people who held rigidly to any formal 
doctrine, and he solved this apparent contradiction by a prac 
tical example. "Every physician," he used to say, "must start 
by being a theorist. It is only when he has conducted, more 
or less successfully, a few confinements, or when he has killed 
off some unfortunate patient, that he becomes a man of prac 
tice and a help to mankind in its war against suffering. With 
out doubt that is the case with me as well. In order to become 
a specialist I would not shirk a thousand vivisections. * 

Sometimes he felt an almost irresistible desire to address 
the whole people, but where were the people who would hear 
him? The provincial intelligentsia, a drunken crew, indiffer 
ent to all appeals? Or the formula-mongers of the People s 
Will? Or the peasants as a whole? No," he decided. "They 
are not of the material that can be re-fashioned by means of 
the written word. With them you want a hard fist, a blud 
geon, or even some more drastic form of violence." 

But quite accidentally Vladimir discovered a more pliant 
class among the people. In the house where he lodged there 
was a concierge whose frequent drunken bouts brought him 
home in a fury to beat his wife and children, or even to attack 
the dogs in the yard with his broom and to threaten passersby. 

"What s the matter with you, Gregory?" Ulyanov once asked 
him. 

"To hell with it all!" the man roared angrily. "There is not 
enough land left for us, and even what we have brings nothing 
in! There is no work to be had in town during the winter! 
My unemployed brother sits on my neck and I have to feed 
him! Where do you think I m expected to get the money ?" 



74 LENIN 

That very night Vladimir wrote two pamphlets and made 
five copies of each. One of them dealt with the growth of 
the proletarian class and the other with unemployment. He 
concealed them until he met Gregory again. After he had 
listened to another tale of woe, and shown a sympathetic in 
terest in the man s life, he went on to suggest new ideas of 
his own for which he had prepared the ground. The result 
was immediate: the two brothers became his accomplices in 
the work of secretly spreading his leaflets among the surround 
ing villages and in the factories of the district. 

At that time also Vladimir met a girl who lived in the same 
house, an attractive woman, small, swarthy, broad-hipped, with 
dancing black eyes. She smiled at him shamelessly and en 
couragingly when they passed each other; and Gregory told 
him that she lived by dressmaking, although she did not scorn 
another and easier occupation. 

"Your name is Grusha, isn t it?" he asked at one encounter. 

"How did you know??" she countered with a provocative 
laugh. 

"The Governor told me." 

"No, you don t! The Governor never comes here. My visi 
tors aren t fine gentlemen at all, but yoti can call on me if you 
want to." 

"I d like to," he agreed. 

"When?" 

"Ill come tonight." 

Her room was the ordinary lodging of a poor prostitute, 
with a wide bed, a table, two chairs and a wash-stand. Pinned 
on the walls were a couple of cheap prints of naked women 
and a few pornographic photographs. It was more surprising 
to see a sewing-machine in one corner and an ikon with a lamp 
burning before it. 

"What on earth is Christ here for?" asked Ulyanov with a 
laugh. "He must have seen some funny happenings in this 
room." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 75 

The girl, who was just unbuttoning her blouse, suddenly be 
came grave and sullen. 

"Let Him look," she hissed. "He ought to know about it. 
He wanted to save the world, but He saved nobody from mis 
ery. The poor must still help themselves as best they can. Let 
Him look!" 

Ulyanov was thoughtful. He imagined what would happen 
if this prostitute, full of hatred and conscious of her misery, 
were given the means to revenge herself with impunity. She 
would enjoy herself. But her outbursts aroused his sympathy, 
so that he had to smile unconsciously. At the same time she 
had taught him a vital principle of his life: to make use of the 
power of hatred. 

"What are you smiling about?" she asked. 

Not to betray his thoughts he replied: "You have a lamp 
burning in front of the ikon and yet you say that Christ could 
not help you. That s why I smiled." 

"I want Him to know that I also have goodness in my heart." 
She looked again at her visitor and said with curiosity, "Well, 
shall I undress? Or do you want a talk? You re a rum cus 
tomer altogether." 

"Don t be afraid. Ill pay all right." 

"You re a fool," she retorted. "I only take money for a job 
of work. I m not a beggar standing at the church door for 
alms." -* 

Ulyanov soon made friends with Grusha, and supported her 
regularly. As his mistress she addressed him with the familiar 
"thou" and threw modesty to the winds. But when he called 
on her as a friend and neighbor she prepared a meal for him 
and gravely discussed the topics that interested him. Then she 
addressed him courteously as Vladimir Ilyitch, nor did she 
allow him any familiarities. 

When a strike was declared at the Zlokarshov factory, Ulya 
nov wrote a leaflet on workers tactics and sabotage which 
Grusha distributed among the operatives. She was arrested, 



70 LENIN 

however, and an attempt was made by the police to force a 
confession from her about the organization to which she be 
longed. They were unsuccessful Although she was starved 
and beaten she did not betray Vladimir by a word, with the 
result that she was sentenced to imprisonment for two years. 

Ulyanov soon forgot her. After all, she was nothing to him 
but an insignificant episode in a career that went straight to a 
distant goal. Only once did he hear of her, when the con 
cierge s brother brought back a message from her prison where 
he had been visiting a friend. 

"Grusha sends her greetings. She does not mind rotting in 
prison any more than rotting in hospital." 

Ulyanov shrugged his shoulders at the message. He had no 
time to busy himself with odd fragments of existence. He 
was now surrounded with dictionaries and "self-help" book 
lets, studying foreign languages. He had more in his mind 
than to think of the ridiculous prostitute who used to burn a 
votive lamp before an ikon in the very room where she sold 
her body. 

Vladimir Ulyanov had not a vestige of sentiment about him. 
He could not see a comparison between that poor woman and 
the votive lamp itself. For him she was like a chip of wood 
split off from a tree when a forest was being felled. Could 
he pause over the fortunes of a splinter when the whole forest 
was at stake? 



CHAPTER VII 

THE FEELING of happiness and of freedom did not for 
sake Vladimir in the years after his expulsion from 
Khazan. Nothing could subdue it or cloud his spirit. 
Even the news that his sister Olga had died and that Maria 
Alexandrovna was prostrate and ill meant little to him. He 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 77 

looked upon himself now as the leader of an army on the field 
of battle. His work was to plan out the direction of the strug 
gle, to examine every aspect of his forces, to prepare carefully 
against every surprise. The enemy, surrounded on every side, 
would succumb in turn to his final assault. 

He looked forward impatiently to his departure from Sa 
mara, and as soon as it was possible for him to leave the town 
he moved on to St. Petersburg. As he had already received 
permission to take his final examinations at the university it 
was not long before he was through with them and admitted 
to the Bar, although he had no influential connection to help 
him on. 

Vladimir smiled to himself when he read his diploma as a 
barrister, remembering Lena s golden head bent over the table 
in the lamplight, and her ambitions for his future. The 
thought crossed his mind that she also was in St. Petersburg. 
Should he go to her and say that he had surmounted the first 
obstacles in his path, that he would soon surmount them all? 
But he put the notion aside. 

Instead of lingering in St. Petersburg he went back to Sa 
mara, where his mother now lived with him, and began to 
practice as an advocate. 

The first brief entrusted to him was in defense of a work 
man charged with theft. Ulyanov went to see his client in 
prison a squat rascal with evil and shifty eyes, who began at 
once to swear by all the saints that the charge was a trumped- 
up case against a poor workman by an employer who bore 
him a grudge, 

"One day at a meeting I said he was a murderer sucking our 
blood. Now he has taken his revenge." 

This was enough for the young lawyer, who appeared next 
day in court and began by putting up the defense that theft 
under certain circumstances is not punishable. "The workman 
before you," he went on, "would have transgressed the pro 
visions of the Criminal Code if he had purloined some valuable 



78 LENIN 

portion of the machinery and sold it secretly. There is no 
proof that he did any such thing. He obeyed the accepted 
canons of morality. The fact is that he has been saddled with 
this accusation by an employer who is his private enemy." 

The Public Prosecutor, a benevolent old man, smiled pater 
nally at the arguments of the young barrister and brought for 
ward two quite convincing pieces of evidence that went against 
the defendant. Ulyanov tore them to pieces. The Public 
Prosecutor returned to the attack and argued the points at 
issue. So, between one and the other, a case trifling in itself 
dragged on till late afternoon, by which time the two lawyers 
were exhausted and the Chief Magistrate was in a state of high 
indignation. He turned to the workman. "Well, my man," 
he said severely, "you shall have the last word. What have you 
to say in your own defense?" But the accused was as tired 
and as hungry as the rest of the court. He answered listlessly, 
with a yawn, "I m sure I don t know what all this fuss is about. 
I stole it right enough, but there s nothing uncommon about 
that. I m not the first, or the last, to steal something!" 

Ulyanov had lost the case, but he was the first to laugh at 
the course it had taken; and, in fact, the unexpected admission 
of his client decided the young advocate s career. After un 
successfully contesting a few more actions Vladimir frequented 
the courts no more. He realized that it was not possible for 
him to exercise his abilities within the narrow scope of the 
Penal Code. His talent did not He in the manipulation of a 
few dry facts within a well-defined area. He had proved at 
least that Justice applies variously to different classes in society. 
A principle good enough for a corrupt Civil Servant educated 
at a University was not to be applied to an illiterate peasant 
or to a starving workman. Sometimes he found himself in 
open court acting at once as prosecutor, defender and judge 
with a personal logic that drew down upon him the scorn of 
the professional judges. During one case the prosecuting at 
torney remarked scathingly that Ulyanov clearly wanted to 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 79 

act as a legislator and to introduce new paragraphs into the 
Code. "That s just what I do want," retorted Ulyanov so 
calmly that nobody could tell whether this unsuccessful lawyer 
was serious or flippant. 

After throwing up the law as a career, Vladimir began to 
study the new factory legislation so as to keep his knowledge 
up to date. He busied himself also with a pamphlet on mar 
kets, and on the economic fallacies of the People s Party, and 
he began a long treatise called "Friends of the Peasants." In 
this he described clearly the strategy and the tactics of the 
campaign that must be carried out by the Social Democracy, 
which was only then being organized in Russia under the in 
fluence of Marx and of Engels. 

Before this was completed, however, he moved to St. Peters 
burg in a vain search for sympathizers with his ideals. Marx 
ism was then the monopoly of the Liberal intelligentsia who 
regarded Socialism theoretically as a historical phase of eco 
nomic development in which the great masses of the people 
played only a passive role. The proletariat had no place in the 
accepted ideology. The intelligentsia looked forward only to 
evolutionary changes in the existing order of law and govern 
ment. In the sphere of practical policies they vacillated hope 
lessly from one side to the other and they contented themselves 
for the most part with spreading pamphlets of Liberal tenden 
cies amongst the working class; though even such an innocent 
occupation as that took on the features of a conspiracy under 
the inquisitorial rule of the Czars. 

More than once Ulyanov met the leading lights of the propa 
ganda section and of the groups which worked among the 
peasants. These meetings ended in an open breach; for his 
scorn of the Marxists in St. Petersburg was so ill-concealed that 
those who were not infuriated by this fire-eating comrade from 
the Volga district went away dispirited from his presence, ask 
ing themselves what kind of revolutionaries they were after all. 



80 LENIN 

"Is your group out for a war of revolution to socialize the 
whole Russian structure?" Ulyanov asked harshly. 

"Of course we are. A class-war is bound to break out." 

"Meanwhile you are busy distributing the soothing leaflets 
of a miserable committee which is the quintessence of the 
Liberal intelligentsia slack, cowardly, soaked through and 
through with bourgeois ideas. Well, go your own way to your 
own destruction! We don t mind!" 

Such an attack infuriated all of them. 

"In whose name does Comrade Ulyanov speak?" somebody 
called out. "Who does he mean by we ?" 

"I speak in the name of all those who have cut themselves 
away from so-called Society and who are joining up with the 
natural enemies of the bourgeoisie." 

"Who are they?" 

"You will know before long," replied Ulyanov, and from 
that time he was never seen again at the meetings of the Social 
Democrats in St. Petersburg. 

They were stung by the scorn and contempt which he con 
tinued to express for them, but they would have forgotten the 
bold Marxist but for a series of writings which came from his 
pen. These were the "Yellow Booklets," printed on a dupli 
cator, which soon obtained an enormous circulation. They 
were written in a simple, rather vulgar style of great virility, 
which well emphasized the leading ideas they contained, and 
they certainly could not be taken for literary or scientific pro 
ductions. In their burning anger they were like the writing 
of the Early Fathers; they read almost like Papal Bulls, ex 
pressing a consciousness of infallibility, and they attracted wide 
attention by their drastic pronouncements. Impartially the 
author of the Yellow Booklets ridiculed the Liberals and th^ 
Socialists, proud of their privileges as officials, threw suspicion 
upon their activities, and robbed them of their prestige in the 
eyes of the workers, who were not in a position to assess their 
true worth. The Social Democrats, like the members of the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 81 

People s Will formerly, had to recognize in Ulyanov an un 
scrupulous and dangerous enemy. 

Despite these activities he was able to travel all over Russia, 
from one industrial town to another. He got to know very 
many of the workers, more for the purpose of listening to 
them attentively than of making speeches to them. But when 
he left them the men were repeating the formula, "We do not 
recognize Society, Law, Morality, the Church, or the State. 
We want no help from others. We represent Power. By the 
shedding of blood and by our own solidarity we will gain 
Liberty and Justice." 

At this period Ulyanov met two workingmen of high in 
telligence, Babushkin and Shaldunov. With their help he 
formed groups of other workers, produced leaflets and pam 
phlets, and distributed them among the proletariat, thus sowing 
the seeds of ruthless warfare against all society. In St. Peters 
burg he lectured to workers groups on sociological subjects, 
with comments on Marx and on the famous Communist Mani 
festo. Moreover, he plumbed the feelings of the destitute 
classes who lived from day to day, defended by none and ex 
ploited shamelessly. 

In one of the circles which he organized in the factory dis 
trict of St. Petersburg, at Okhta, he met a girl who worked 
at the Tornton factory. Nastk was her name: a pretty, well- 
built girl with auburn hair and fine eyes. When he shook 
her tiny hand, coarsened by labor, Vladimir remembered that 
other Nastia from Kokushkino who was in turn the victim of 
a young landlord, a drunken father and an old woman. 

"This girl is not likely to get into trouble," he thought to 
himself with a smile. "She is an able and resolute woman 
well able to keep anybody from blowing into her porridge." 

That evening he spoke on the Erfurt programme. The 
ce listened attentively while he emphasized and repeated 
t,i e points of his lecture, as was his habit, to arouse in them 
^ c will and purpose that they lacked. But he was not at ease. 



82 LENIN 

The presence of the pretty Nastia, alive with youth, with ele 
mental power and with warm blood, was teasing his mind. 
Even against his will his eyes came back to hers more and 
more often, seeking in them an answer to his silent question; 
until he saw her question and her answer there. Nastia s 
splendid bosom moved and her graceful body was alive with 
deske. The glances which Ulyanov threw at the girl were 
intercepted by Babushkin. During the interval, when tea was 
brought round, he came to Vladimir and whispered to him. 

"Nastia Kozyreva is an educated girl and a member of the 
Party. But I warn you against her. She is an uncertain 
proposition " 

"What are your suspicions?" 

"None at all. I don t want to say anything against her. All 
I know is that she is out for a good time. She already has a 
young engineer at the factory in her power. He s mad about 
her. She yields to him for a month and then refuses to see 
him at all." 

"Haven t you told her it does no good to have dealings with 
bourgeois people?" 

"That would do no good. Through her we learn what the 
factory managers intend to do next against the workers." 

"Aha!" drawled Ulyanov. "Then you must not stop her 
making love." 

But he said it with hidden anger. He knew that he was 
jealous of Nastia. 

"I ll see you home, Comrade," he whispered, approaching 
her. 

She eyed him narrowly and then thanked him with a wink. 
They walked on through the dark streets of the suburbs until 
just before dawn they reached the woods at Polustrov and 
stopped before the door of a small wooden cottage. 

"I live here," she said, stretching herself lazily. "It s Sunday 
tomorrow. You can sleep as long as you like. ..." 
"Hurrah for Sunday!" he laughed. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 83 

Nastia did not answer but tapped at the window. An untidy 
woman, only half -awake, with a baby in her arms, slightly 
opened the door. 

"Damn you!" she said angrily. "You gave me a fright. I 
thought it was the police again." 

The girl went in and beckoned to Ulyanov from the shadows 
of the hall He entered. He heard the key grate in the lock 
behind him and as the darkness fell upon him he felt a warm 
arm around his waist and Nastia s full body against his own. 
He turned quickly and kissed her mouth, her cheek, her neck 
and soft hair, murmuring the endearments that rose to his lips. 
Then they went into her room in silence. 

It was early in the next afternoon that Vladimir departed 
from the cottage. He was tired, disgusted and angry with 
himself. As his habit was, he began to analyze his feelings. 
"Hell!" he muttered to himself. "A fine woman without a 
doubt. She is generous, giving everything and asking nothing. 
Not many of her sort exist. But what have I got into this 
mess for? Now I shan t be able to keep my authority in her 
presence. She will imagine that there is no difference between 
me and her engineer." He remembered one of her off-hand 
remarks, "I want to make sure that these Socialists are capable 
of doing things. If not, it s no use for me to take risks with 
them. I could do myself more good in other ways." But 
before he could ask her what she meant she had thrown her 
arms about him and pressed herself against him like a big cat. 
For the next two days he did not see Nastia, and then, after a 
meeting, he went home with her once more. 

After a few days Babushkin came to him and said that 
Nastia had caused a scene in the Tornton factory; she had 
struck her engineer when he was making love to her and had 
then complained to the management. 

<c Why did she do that?" asked Ulyanov. 

"I don t know. She s a foolish sort of girl. The whole dis- 



84 LENIN 

trict knows her. Something must have come over her. But 
who can understand a woman anyhow?" 

Babushkin went on with a laugh to discuss a newly acquired 
duplicator for printing illegal leaflets. That night Nastia was 
at the meeting of the circle and after it was over Vladimir left 
the premises with her. 

"I ve given my little engineer the sack," she said with a 
laugh. "I have you now. I don t want anybody else. Let s 
go to a restaurant where there are lights and music. We want 
to enjoy ourselves." 

Vladimir looked at her with surprise and suspicion. 

"Is that where you go with the engineer?" 

"Of course it is! I m not a beast, to spend all my life in a 
dark stable without a moment s pleasure. I want to live!" 

"I haven t got time for that, my dear," he exclaimed, draw 
ing back. "Pleasures of that sort don t amuse me. They aren t 
in my line." 

"Then what is in your line ?" she asked quizzically. 

"A fight," he wanted to say, but he restrained himself, for 
he remembered that he had not fought to win this girl; and 
he knew that the same thought would occur to her as well. 

"Tell me," she insisted. 

"Oh, I have no time for music and for restaurant life," he 
groaned. "I don t want it." 

"But I do!" 

"Well then, help yourself to it," he replied brutally. 

She took him up without any trace of anger. "I will," she 
murmured and came close to him, looking into his face with 
half -closed languorous eyes. He was at a loss and kept silence. 
"Come to me!" she whispered, pressing herself against him. 
He took the easiest way out of the unpleasant situation. 

On their way to their home he bought a few oranges and a 
box of chocolates at a kiosk. In the morning they went out 
together, Vladimir to the secret flat of the conspirators on the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 85 

Vassilyev Ostrov, Nastia to the Tornton factory where he took 
leave of her. 

Nastia turned back at the gate and said to Mm, "I shall be 
proud all my life of such a lover as you, Vladimir Ilyitch. It is 
no small thing/ 5 

"It is no great honor/ he laughed. 

"Don t say what you don t mean. I know that all Russia 
will soon hear of you." 

"A prophecy?" he queried mockingly. 

"Perhaps/ she replied, and went into the factory as the 
hooter blared. 

After that Ulyanov avoided meeting the girl. He was busy 
now in the workers circles of the Putilov factories and in 
establishing connections with the Navy Yard at Kronstadt. 
This was an extremely dangerous enterprise, for the authori 
ties maintained a strict discipline among the sailors and work 
men. 

One day he had just returned from Kronstadt when Babush- 
kin dashed in. 

"Bad news, Ilyitch," he exclaimed as soon as he entered the 
room. "Nastia Kozyreva has found a lover!" 

"Not the first, I should imagine," said Vladimir indifferently. 

"This is no laughing matter, Comrade," retorted the worker 
angrily. "Our whole organization may be undermined. The 
strumpet has gone off with a gendarme Sergeant-Major. Do 
you hear that?" 

"Well, what harm?" Vladimir shrugged his shoulders. 
"There is no danger. But in case of emergency, transfer the 
duplicators to another place. I know! Take them over to 
the dining hall of the Institute of Technology and give them 
to my friend Herman Krassin. Though I have not the least 
fear " 

"The gendarme will get all her secrets from her. That s 
why he came to her. 9 



86 LENIN 

"Nonsense! Our secrets are not her only bait to catch gen 
darmes with. Cheer up, Comrade!" 

As it proved, although Nastia was seen to pass her evenings 
in restaurants with the imposing gendarme officer, the organ 
ization was not disturbed for a long period. Once Babushkin 
met the girl in the street. When he made to pass her without 
a word, she stopped him. 

"Will you tell Vladimir Ilyitch that he needn t worry about 
his affairs?" she said. "As for me, tell him I want to live. I 
wasn t born a bookworm or a nun. I have a lot of hatred in 
side me, but much more of joy. I want to live when my happi 
ness is alive, for what else is there after that ? Only a rope or 
a drop of poison or the river. I want to enjoy myself, to laugh 
and be merry. Then we shall see. I may even come back to 
you and die on the barricades. Until then, I want life. Tell 
him that and good-bye!" 

Babushkin reported this conversation to Vladimir. 

"You see, Comrade," said Ulyanov, "there is no danger com 
ing from her." 

Nothing more was said about her until one day Vladimir 
received a letter which was delivered by an unknown worker. 
It was from Nastia, a warning that the Intelligence Service 
was watching him, as well as Babushkin, Shapovalov, Kar- 
tarmskaya, and Knipovitch. They had discovered that the 
booklets, "Who Lives on What?" and "King Hunger," secretly 
published by the revolutionary printing press, and signed 
Tulin, were written by Ulyanov. 

Vladimir did not interrupt his work, but he concealed him 
self so skilfully that no police agent could trace him. Several 
times he was nearly arrested in the street, but this courageous 
man knew every inch of the network of streets and alleys, as 
well as a number of secret hiding-places in cellars and in barns 
beyond the suburbs of St. Petersburg. So he escaped from the 
spies and put into circulation a number of even more provoca- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 87 

tive publications which troubled the Government and excited 
the workers. 

Of the whole group only Knipovitch, a teacher, was arrested, 
and she was betrayed by a secret agent, a compositor who 
worked at the revolutionary press. A few of her friends were 
also apprehended, because they were in possession of illegal 
pamphlets, although they did not belong to the Party. 

Ulyanov often hid in the Kalemaykov book-shop in the city, 
where the authorities would not think of looking for him. He 
continued to extend his network of personal connections, 
which were well concealed; he even had a friend, Morsin, who 
was a fireman in the Anitchkov Palace, and at one time when 
he was being hotly pursued he spent two grimy days as a stoker 
at the furnaces below the Palace. It occurred to him that he 
could now easily make an attempt upon the Czar, but he could 
still see no advantage to be gained from melodramatic ad 
ventures. 

However, St. Petersburg was soon made so hot for him that 
his only course of action was to go abroad. This he was asked 
to do by the Association of Fighters for the Liberty of the 
Working Classes, which was one of Ulyanov s most successful 
foundations. His friends also insisted upon it, for they saw a 
great leader in the young revolutionary. They managed to get 
a passport for him and Ulyanov mysteriously disappeared from 
the ken of the police. 

In Berlin he stayed at a small hotel near Moabit and at 
tended the meetings of the German Socialists, Here he met 
many famous leaders of the Party, but he failed to discover 
any links with them. Their minds worked only within the 
limits of a Parliamentary system. Their only object at the 
elections was to gain the greatest possible number of seats in 
the Reichstag. Even the greatest of them, Karl Liebknecht, 
was affected by this bourgeois ideology, as Vladimir soon dis 
covered during a conversation between them at Charlotten- 
bnrg. 



88 LENIN 

"I ve heard of you before, Comrade," said Liebknecht, when 
he was told the name of the Russian. "It was common talk 
how you made life miserable for Struve and Potresov." 

"All in the day s work/ replied Ulyanov with a smile. "But 
what I want to ask you. Comrade, is how long the Social Dem 
ocrats of Germany will go on tub-thumping in their present 
fashion? They aren t getting anywhere. They remind me of 
the way you can make a hen stop by drawing a chalk line just 
in front of her beak." 

"And what s the line in our case?" 

"The Parliamentary system: a bourgeois trap for the credu 
lous. 55 

The German shrugged his shoulders. 

"What else do you propose?" he asked. "We have no other 
method for achieving our end." 

"Do you really mean that in industrialized Germany, with 
an entire army of workers, of unemployed, and of dispossessed 
peasants do you really mean that you have no other method? 
You are afraid that what I suggest would be a complete capitu 
lation on your part? All right, then go on drawing your sal 
ary from the Kaiser!" 

Liebknecht followed attentively. 

"But our Party," he objected, "is not strong enough for revo 
lutionary tactics. It must grapple first with practical economic 
problems." 

"Practical economic problems," answered Ulyanov, "are ex 
actly what I m talking about. That s why I think it better to 
take over the whole house now than to wait ten years for the 
landlord to let you a basement room at a high rent." 

"How do you propose to take over the house now? Or is 
this just another Utopia?" 

"How to do it is for you to decide. I can only tell you how 
it will be done in Russia, a country without great industrial 
centers, a country where the whole working-class population 
does not exceed the figure of any one center of industry in 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 89 

Germany. I ask you a question. Don t you think that a well- 
organized, disciplined and determined group, unrestrained by 
die slogans with which it attracts the working classes, would 
have the power to carry out the revolution ? Don t you think 
that after a resolute campaign of terrorism it might destroy the 
existing order and take power over the heads of the wavering 
classes?" 

"I think you are right/ admitted Liebknecht reluctantly. 

"And that is what will happen in Russia!" exclaimed Ulya- 
nov. "In that way and in that way alone is success possible 
the concerted action of a sworn band of ideologists. Sooner 
or later, Comrade, believe me, Germany will choose the same 
method, for none other is possible." 

"But where is the group of ideologists to be found?" asked 
the German, measuring with his eyes the thick-set figure and 
inscrutable face of the man who stood before him. 

"Est modus in rebus replied Ulyanov, and went on to in 
quire whether he could raise from the German Socialists a 
subsidy for the propagation of Marxism in Russia, to reinforce 
the international front of fighters for the working class. 

After a stay of three weeks in Berlin he went on to Paris 
where he at once put himself in touch with some of the Rus 
sian students. He found a welcome, for his reputation had 
preceded him. His chief interests were in the Musee des Arts 
et des Metiers, out of which his friends had to drag him by 
force. 

"Oh!" he used to sigh, "if I could only transport all these to 
Russia!" 

One day a young student, Arinkin, burst into his room in a 
great state of excitement. 

"Paul Lafargue, the leader of the French Socialists," he said* 
has agreed to see you, Comrade, for a short talk. Let s hurry 
along at once." 

Ulyanov laughed. " See me, c a short talk" what bourgeois 



9 LENIN 

expressions those are! Laf argue will speak to me for as long 
as I want him to." 

Lafargue adopted a faint air of mockery when his sharp 
eyes had taken in the figure and the Mongol face of his visitor. 

"Is the comrade Russian?" he asked. 

"Yes/ 5 replied Ulyanov, grinning. "The Master must have 
noticed my Mongolian face." 

"Yes, I admit that." 

"There are few purely Russian types/ Vladimir went on. 
"Remember for three hundred years we were under Tartar 
domination. They left us unpleasant faces but some valuable 
traits of character. We are capable, for instance, of deliberate 
cruelty and of fanaticism." 

Lafargue lowered his eyes, smiled politely, and changed the 
subject. 

"I was wondering," he began, "what is the average intel 
lectual level among Russian Socialists." 

"The best intellects among them are studying and comment 
ing upon Karl Marx," the visitor repliedly calmly. 

"Studying Karl Marx! But do they understand him?" 

"They do." 

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Lafargue. "They don t! Why, even 
in France nobody can understand him. Yet our Party had ex 
isted for twenty-five years and developed year by year." 

"That is because you and a few other of its leaders do under 
stand Karl Marx. No more is necessary. The masses only 
want to be firmly controlled by a group of strong minds." 

Lafargue showed a growing interest as he listened to the 
Russian s remarks, despite a grating accent that sounded un 
pleasant in Parisian ears. 

"So that is your principle, is it?" he remarked. "It comes 
strangely from the lips of a Socialist who should believe in 
liberty and have regard for the community." 

Ulyanov replied quietly and with conviction: "Liberty is a 
bourgeois prejudice. The community profits by the brains of 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 91 

outstanding leaders and that is sufficient for it. It is for the 
good of the community to be ruled by a strong hand." 

"So the Czar is an ideal type of ruler for you, Comrade?" 

"For me, no. For the class from which the Czar sprang, yes. 
The Czar is not thinking about the all-Russian community but 
about the nobility and the bourgeois class/ 

When Ulyanov left Lafargue after a long conversation the 
Frenchman remarked, "I d like to see the day when you start 
to put your ideas into practice." 

"The day is coming soon/ replied the Russian. 

Less than a week later he sat in a small cafe in Geneva look 
ing out upon the turquoise blue waters of Lake Leman. At 
die same table were the veterans of the Russian revolutionary 
movement who had been long in exile: Plekhanov, the father 
of Russian Socialism; Axekod, its early organizer, and Viera 
Sasulitch, a devoted propagandist. Ulyanov looked with rev 
erence upon the severe face of Plekhanov with its direct eyes 
and heavy brows, the face of his teacher, for Plekhanov s books 
and his articles in proscribed periodicals issued abroad inspired 
Vladimir as a revolutionary. He noted especially the obstinate, 
compressed mouth which had spoken the burning words, "Hie 
good of the revolution is the highest law. Tyrannicide is not 
murder." To Vladimir, those were the inspired teachings of 
a great leader, and maxims that were often upon his own lips. 

With an equal admiration he turned to Axelrod, a human 
machine, writing from morning to night, visiting town after 
town, controlling, advising, keeping in motion the whole mec 
hanism of the Party, forgetful of himself in his fiery enthusiasm. 

Vladimir, in his turn, made a strong impression upon the 
older men. They saw that he had not only an inexhaustible 
vitality and a driving will, but also the cunning of a born 
revolutionary, based upon a wide knowledge of the psychology 
of the various social classes, and of the conditions in which 
they lived. Ulyanov spoke little of Party affairs, if only be 
cause he felt some coldness in Plekhanov s manner: the old 



92 LENIN 

lion was angry with this stripling who dared to criticize the 
well-established programme of the Social Democrats. 

Instead, Vladimir described his impressions of Europe. He 
could not conceal his admiration for the life of the West. 

"What couldn t we do if we had such material as they have, 
and such technical advantages?" he said. "But in Russia, to 
put it very bhjntly, there is no one worth robbing except the 
Czar. Our nation is a procession of beggars. But Europe is 
in a fine state altogether so fine that I would raise my hand 
against it only with a painful effort." 

"Wouldn t you have the same pity for anything in Russia, 
Comrade?" asked Axelrod. 

"For anything in Russia? No!" he replied without hesita 
tion. "What is there to pity? In Russia it is easy to strike 
and to destroy. For a thousand years we have been set upon 
from all sides by anybody who had a mind for it from the 
Vikings, the Tartars, the Poles, and the Swedes, down to the 
Czars and the police. Our villages have been burned down 
by the thousands every year as though they were cartloads of 
straw. Our people die in myriads from disease and starvation. 
What is there to pity throughout the endless plain that is called 
Russia, a land of forests and marshes ? Our smoke-filled cot 
tages roofed with stinking and mouldy thatch foetid lairs 
where people drag out their lives with the cattle and the swine, 
growing, giving birth and dying in the same squalor? Or 
must we pity our narrow minds, bound by superstition, which 
begins when we put milk out for the brownies and ends in 
an enthusiasm for the Parliamentary system? Russia is a vast 
desert owned only by the peasant, primitive and illiterate, a 
slave of God, a slave of the Czar and a slave of the Devil" 

"But our towns, our arts, our literature . . ." protested Sasu- 

litch. 

"The towns?" Ulyanov repeated. "Yes, they may have a 
future, but so far they are only big villages. Sometimes they 
show splendor at their centers with misery all around it. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 93 

Art, literature, they are fine enough; but Pushkin was a half- 
breed and a sycophant, Shchedrin was a Governor, Tolstoy a 
Count, while Niekrasov, Turgeniev, Djershavin and Jukovsky 
were of the gentry and bourgeois. All our art has come from 
manor-houses and palaces. Its inspiration has come from the 
enemies of the working-class." 

"And what about the West, the corrupt West, Comrade?" 
asked Plekhanov with a severe glint in his eyes, 

"Is there any comparison?" exclaimed Ulyanov. "Here at 
every step you come across the products of an organized human 
will embodied in concrete forms. Here men can boast that 
they have been able to direct the primitive forces of Nature to 
the service of reasonable human needs. They are the rulers of 
the earth!" 

"What enthusiasm!" laughed Sasulitch. "You certainly don t 
know much about this paradise of yours." 

"I am admiring what has already been achieved. But I can 
see all the faults. The Western man believes too deeply in the 
value of human beings. He thinks too much of his own work 
and has too much confidence in his personal dignity. In a 
word, he is an individualist, and so he has a boundless egoism. 
I am sure that the greatest achievements will come from the 
masses when they are mechanized, and controlled by a ruth 
less intellect which comprehends the destiny of humanity." 

"You see very distant horizons," remarked Plekhanov. 

"I see them clearly, so they are near," retorted Ulyanov. 
"The West will be consumed by the Parliamentary system as 
by a leprosy. Our task is to safeguard Russia from this in 
curable disease." 

"A bold conception," muttered Axelrod. 

"But a healthy one," added the younger man, as he took 
leave of his new friends. 



94 



LENIN 



CHAPTER VIII 



ULYANOV returned to St. Petersburg in the autumn, but 
it was a long time before he could order all his new 
impressions. He was forced to admit that the West 
had laid its spell upon him; only there could he understand 
the words of Maxim Gorki, put into the mouths of one of his 
characters: "Man! That is a proudly sounding name!" For 
Europe showed all the evidences of hard work, of deep 
thought, of brilliant conceptions. There, thought Vladimir, 
are nations which are producing supermen. 

But the very word superman made him pause. What were 
they, after all? An architect turning into reality some dream- 
building out of the Arabian Nights. A sculptor carving marble 
into flowing lines and graceful images. A painter setting down 
on canvas a unique conception of form and color. An author 
expressing in one epic the content of human thought. Those 
were supermen or were they only forgers deceiving man 
kind? For what true man could create undisturbed when 
misery and oppression reigned around him? What true man 
could exhaust his genius to delight a few thousand people 
when millions of his wretched fellow-creatures were too weak 
even to crawl up to his masterpieces and to raise their eyes to 
look upon them? How could a fine poem or a noble piece 
of music silence the groans and the curses of slaves ? And yet 
who could honestly say that the whole framework of society 
should be torn down just because great museums and art gal 
leries stood side by side with prisons full of people who had 
broken away from artificial standards? The fact was, he re 
flected, that both the oppressors and the oppressed deceived 
themselves. They tried to come to an understanding in Par 
liaments guarded by police and troops. That was no solution. 
Nor could the greatest genius do away with all those evils by 
himself. What was necessary was a ruthless collective will. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 95 

the anger of a prosecutor and the power of a judge summed 
up in one man who would stop short of nothing less than a 
complete victory. 

So Ulyanov was led step by step to decisive conclusions. He 
was convinced that he could not count upon the assistance of 
the comrades outside Russia. Indeed, he expected opposition 
from them, or treachery at some critical moment. Having 
made up his mind on that score he smiled happily to himself. 

At that moment one of his friends entered the room. 

"Welcome, Comrade/ said Ulyanov, shaking him warmly by 
the hand. "Peter the Great cut a window in the wall of the 
West and let into Russia a breath of fresh air. Now we shall 
open a window in the eastern wall of Europe and a hurricane 
will pass through it." 

The visitor looked at him in astonishment^ Ulyanov slapped 
him on the shoulder and laughed. 

"It doesn t matter," he said. "I was only thinking aloud." 

They sat down and began to discuss the printing of new 
pamphlets which were to be distributed in certain factories 
where a strike was in prospect. Once more Ulyanov had taken 
up his secret activities in St. Petersburg. 

The police were soon aware of the return of the dangerous 
revolutionary who was so skilful in escaping from the hands 
of their agents. Ulyanov was as unruffled as ever and con 
tinued his work with pedantic exactitude. His articles were 
always ready for the press at the appointed time. He appeared 
at meetings with unvarying punctuality as though nothing 
could disturb his routine. At the same time he was printing 
pamphlets on a duplicator and distributing them to colporteurs 
who came to collect them at a settled rendezvous. He worked 
with the cold efficiency of a machine, eating when he could 
snatch a moment, sleeping only a few hours a night, and 
changing his hiding-place whenever it became necessary. 

One night, while he was walking across the Vassilyev Ostrov 
he noticed the shadowy figure of a man who followed him 



96 LENIN 

from street to street. He stopped, pretending to read a Gov 
ernment placard to recruits, and waited events. The man over 
took him and whispered as he passed, "Comrade,, save yourself. 
The police have a cordon round the district." 

Vladimir watched his unknown friend very carefully, in two 
minds whether or not he was himself a spy for the police. 
Then he walked on, alert, noting a place of concealment in 
the inner courtyard of a nearby house which faced the cross 
ing of three streets. Then he noticed signs of police activity, 
for on each corner there was a lounging group of policemen 
and detectives, waiting for nightfall to begin their activities. 
He looked at his watch. It was nearly seven. 

He entered the courtyard and took up his position at the foot 
of a staircase, ostensibly reading an ultra-conservative news 
paper, The Citizen. He stayed there until nine o clock. Then, 
as nothing had occurred he crept out to the front gate again, 
only to find that the police had not moved from their posts. 
He crossed the street and slipped through the dark entrance 
of a narrow lane where there was an old house faced with 
dirty brown plaster. Above the door shone a lamp which 
bore the scratched and half-erased inscription, "Night Shelter." 
Ulyanov quickly made up his mind. He entered the building, 
put down his five kopeks, and asked for a bed for the night. 

The one-eyed porter at the desk looked him up and down 
with obvious suspicion, but he could find nothing about this 
new arrival that was out of the ordinary. To all appearances 
Vladimir was a working man dressed in a worn-out overcoat, 
dilapidated high boots and a greasy cap. 

"Unemployed ?" he asked. Vladimir nodded his head. 

"Where are your papers?" 

These were quite in order. They were made out for Basil 
Ostapenko, a peasant from the province of Kharkov, by trade 
a compositor. The porter entered the particulars in his regis 
ter, threw the coins into a box, and passed over to Ulyanov a 
numbered brass ticket. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 97 

"Second floor, Room 3," he growled, taking a tea-pot and a 
dirty glass from under the counter. The figure of the un 
employed compositor held no further interest for him. 

Ulyanov found his bunk in a half-lit, dirty room, clouded 
with tobacco smoke and impregnated with the body odors 
of thirty men. They stank of sweat and brandy and old 
clothes. They lay in their berths around the walls in the 
abandoned attitudes of complete fatigue, many of them com 
pletely naked, with boils and sores upon their bodies and bleed 
ing wounds upon their worn-out feet. Most of them were not 
yet asleep. They busied themselves with catching lice and 
with cursing their companions. A murmur of voices sounded 
from the other rooms along the corridor where the same scenes 
were being enacted. 

The entrance of Ulyanov was loudly greeted by a bearded 
and half -naked giant who lay full-length on one of the bunks. 

"A Count has condescended to visit us. Silence, you louts! 
Keep your mouths shut in the presence of the gentleman. 
Welcome, Count" 

"Good evening, General," replied Ulyanov with a laugh. 

"And what makes you think I m a General?" 

"All Generals will be where you are before long," Vladimir 
explained. "I was thinking that you were starling a fashion*" 

He began to take off his overcoat. The men in the room 
laughed at his retort and then went on with the argument 
he had started. 

"Do you really think that will happen?" asked an old beggar. 

"What else can happen?" replied Ulyanov. "Do you think 
our patience will last for ever? Are we going to spend the 
rest of our lives in doss-houses with no food in our bellies? 
Don t you believe it. The time is near when we shall drive 
Generals, Counts, and the whole gang of them into dens like 
this. As for us, well live on the fat of the land in their 
palaces." 

He immediately won the admiration of his room-mates. "He 



98 LENIN 

knows what he s talking about," they agreed. "It s about time 
to start the work and get rid of the curs. They ve sucked our 
blood long enough." 

"Nay, rather, we should endure in silence/ came a soft voice 
from a dark corner of the room. "We must be worthy follow 
ers of Christ, our Saviour." 

Nobody answered. The speaker, a solemn old fellow grunt 
ed loudly and scratched his chest. He sat up and began to 
search for bugs which he crushed with his huge thumb-nail. 

"A louse?" asked Ulyanov mockingly. 

"Yes: the fifth. The place is infested with them." 

"You should endure them in silence/ said Ulyanov. "You 
can t stand lice but you preach endurance to us. Who are you 
trying to deceive, Christian? Yourself or us?" 

The room roared its approval and the Christian had no more 
to say. 

Then the "General" joined in again. 

"If I was a judge I wouldn t make long speeches. I d cut 
their throats and into the ditch with them. I m infested with 
hatred just as this bunk is infested with lice." 

"Don t you worry. Comrade," said Ulyanov encouragingly. 
"You ll live to see the day." 

"Well, one day would be enough. I could die happy after 
that." 

"The day will come." Ulyanov said no more. He lay down 
on his bunk, covering himself with his overcoat, and waited. 
His companions went on talking in low voices about their 
sufferings, their misery and their failures. One by one they 
became silent and went to sleep. But Ulyanov could not afford 
to sleep. He was waiting for a police inspection and his every 
sense was alert. Near by a clock struck midnight. There was 
no sound but heavy breathing in the room from the broken 
men who had crawled into the dirty room from all parts of 
Russia. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 99 

Suddenly Ulyanov heard a rustle of clothing and a soft 
whisper. 

"Come on, Ivan. All clear." 

By the light of the sooty oil-lamp he saw two figures creep 
out of the room. They disappeared in the darkness of the 
corridor. After a time he heard cautious footsteps returning. 
Two men and two women crept back into the room. In a 
moment they were hidden in their berths; Vladimir heard 
their low voices and the sound of kisses. 

Suddenly the whole room was awakened by the loud 
tramping of feet. The door was flung open, and a stentorian 
voice gave an order. 

"Inspect every room. Get on with it!" 

Broad-shouldered policemen poured into the room accom 
panied by porters carrying flash-lamps. They shook the ex 
hausted men, snatched away their ragged coverings, searched 
their clothes and inspected their papers. 

A light flashed into Ulyanov s eyes. He lay back, groaning, 
pretending to be half-asleep, and gave up his passport. The 
policeman inspected it, entered the name on his list, and passed 
on to the next man. So the inspection continued with a chorus 
of yawns and threats and frightened protests from suspicious 
characters who were put to a more searching examination. 
Suddenly a porter gave a startled exclamation. 

"Oho, you strumpet! What are you doing here? You devil! 
What do you care about the good name of the shelter?" 

Ulyanov cautiously raised his head. He saw, in the light of 
a lamp, the face of a worn and drunken woman. Her un 
combed hair fell upon her thin uncovered shoulders and over 
her flat breasts. A grin of sheepish defiance only served to 
accentuate her shapeless mouth and broken teeth. 

"Away with you to the women s room," the porter roared. 
"A diseased sheep like you infects the whole flock." 

The woman laughed. 

"I m not the only one in this flock," she said. 



ioo LENIN 

At the same time a policeman dragged out of the next bed 
a girl of about fifteen years of age. Her naked, lean and supple 
body wriggled like an eel in the grip of his huge hands. 

Ulyanov watched the incident with curiosity. The porter 
struck at the vagrant with whom the girl was found, and 
shouted, "Get out of here and take your rags along with you, 
or you ll be thrown downstairs on your head." 

"What s the matter?" asked the man, addressing the whole 
room, in pretended astonishment. "If a few kopeks fell out 
of my pocket the porter wouldn t raise such a row. But just 
because a girl fell out of my bed he starts abusing me. A 
curious character, that porter." 

Meanwhile the girl, with a running fire of obscenities, was 
searching for her clothes among the disordered rags on the 
bed. She dressed herself at last and stood before them all de 
fiantly,, her hands on her hips. Although she was still young 
and immature her eyes were frightening with their snake-like 
venom and terrible hardness. 

"You swine!" she screamed. "You hangmen! You drove 
me into this filthy hole! And now you don t allow me to de 
fend myself against starvation, I hope you get the pox and 
rot with it. But the time will come when you ll have to answer 
for this and then I ll tell your judges everything. I know who 
you are, you tykes." 

She spat at the policemen and attendants. Her ravings be 
came more and more abominable as they pushed her from 
the room. 

Apart from this the inspection proceeded smoothly. All the 
men had their identity papers in order; except the "Christian," 
who had roused suspicions by some irregularity in his passport. 
He was taken away to the police station and Vladimir smiled 
mischievously to himself. "Now let him suffer in silence," he 
thought. "The damned prophet! All he has is the soul of a 
slave." 

The rest of the night passed without any disturbance. At 



GOD OF THE GODLESS IO i 

dawn the attendants brought in a big tea-pot with cups of 
coarse china and some bread. Immediately afterwards the 
homeless men were driven from the shelter. Ulyanov went out 
unobtrusively in the motley crowd, hoping to catch sight again 
of the young girl. She would be just the right type for spread 
ing his leaflets, for she was full of hatred and she had nothing 
to lose. But there was no sign of her. 

He made his way through side streets to the Neva toll-gates 
where he had friends, but they advised him not to stay because 
the place was under surveillance. They passed him on to a 
school where he would be given work as a painter to escape 
detection. The school-teacher, Nadezhda Konstantynovna 
Krupskaya, was an old friend of his. She was a Social Demo 
crat with a wide influence because of her bold and active mind, 
although personally she was of a shy and silent disposition. She 
was not pretty indeed, she might be described as plain but 
she always made a sympathetic impression on Ulyanov; her 
mind was balanced, her character was equable, she was always 
cheerful, and she had a profound belief in the ideas which she 
professed. The quiet teacher knew how to listen and to appre 
ciate every shade of thought in the people who spoke around 
her. Ulyanov knew that she was to be numbered among his 
few real friends in the revolutionary intelligentsia. He even 
heard, by chance, that she once defended him hotly against 
Struve and other Socialists in St. Petersburg. 

During the few days he passed at the school they had many 
conversations together. Vladimir, who always kept a check 
upon himself in argument so as not to be caught up by en 
thusiasms or mere words, forgot his strong discipline in the 
company of Nadezhda Konstantynovna. He confessed to her 
even his inmost thoughts; and when she saw in her eyes a pro 
found sympathy and a silent admiration he became stirred with 
a new idea. It occurred to him that she was born to become 
his wife. She was like him in not demanding anything for 
herself; at any moment she would sacrifice all she had for the 



102 LENIN 

cause. She was well-read, she had a gift for criticism, she knew 
foreign languages, and she feared nothing on earth. She could 
be his best assistant as well as an almost ideal and entirely inti 
mate friend. 

He looked at her attentively and asked with half-closed eyes: 

"What would you say, Comrade, if you know that I had com 
mitted an act which society described as base or criminal?" 

She fixed her calm eyes on him and replied at once without 
any affectation, "I would not doubt that you did it for some 
good reason." 

He chuckled softly, rubbing his hands. 

"And if I said to you suddenly, Nadezhda Konstantynovna, 
I am going to be the dictator of all Russia ?" 

"I would believe it without a doubt." 

"Well, then," he went on quietly, "if that is so, I think we 
might do well to live our lives together ... to go through with 
it to the end, either to the gallows or to the dictatorship . . . 
Nadezhda Konstantynovna." 

She looked down for a moment. Then, without emotion, 
she replied, "I agree to whatever you ask." 

They spoke of that no more. Indeed, they could not, for 
soon after a man sent by Babushkin dashed in to give warn 
ing that police agents were surrounding the house from all 
sides. Ulyanov fled at once in the direction of the Imperial 
china factory. A few days later he crept back into the city, 
where he always felt safest at times of increased persecution. 
But soon the police were hot on his trail. In December they 
ransacked the whole town for him. They searched the flats 
of all suspected persons, even the Liberals. Ulyanov could not 
evade them. 

He was arrested and put in prison, where Krupskaya sup 
plied him with books. She also sent word to Maria Alex- 
androvna that her son had been captured by the police. The 
old lady came to St. Petersburg to visit Vladimir, who re 
assured her that nothing seriously threatened him. He was 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

sure that the police had no incriminating evidence, but only 
suspicions. His opinion was soon proved right, for he was 
not brought to trial at all. Instead,, by order of the police 
authorities, he was sent to Siberia for three years. 

"I am going for a holiday and for a hunting trip/ he wrote 
jokingly to Nadezhda Konstantynovna, in milk, between the 
lines of a book she had lent to him. 



CHAPTER IX 



HP! 



THIRD year of his exile was corning to an end, 
another year of almost unbroken peace. The authori- 

-*- ties in Siberia were now much more liberal, making 
no efforts to interfere with the political exiles. Vladimir Ulya- 
nov lived in the village of Shushenskoe, near Minusinsk, a 
town on the banks of the picturesque river Yenissai. 

Soon after his release from imprisonment, Nadezhda Kon- 
stantynovna came out to join him with his mother, and a few 
weeks later they were married. 

For neither of them was the occasion one of great excite 
ment or of the great happiness which changes the whole world 
into a paradise and the breath of a wind into divine music. 
They did not even think of their marriage as a romance. They 
were bound to each other by a tie stronger than love or mutual 
surrender, for they were united by their faithfulness to an idea 
which they valued more than life itself. Their only possibility 
of failure was in the failure of the idea. 

Ulyanov had complete confidence in his wife. She believed 
absolutely in his power to achieve his ends. So their period 
of exile in the beautiful district of Minusinsk was both pleas 
ant and fruitful for them. Here Vladimir s thoughts finally 
crystallized and his permanent plans for the future were made. 



104 LENIN 

He read eagerly an immense number of books which were 
sent to him from St. Petersburg by their friends, or which 
he borrowed from Eugene Rozycki, a Polish engineer who was 
sympathetic towards the exiles although he held an official post 
in the district. 

During the same period Vladimir completed his book on the 
development of Capitalism, which he had begun to write in 
prison. A manuscript of such a nature would most certainly 
have been confiscated by the prison authorities, and so he wrote 
in milk on the back of pages covered with innocent quotations 
from Russian and foreign authors. He kept the milk in small 
phials made of bread which he moulded into shape with his 
fingers; and when the wardens visited his cell, as they did six 
times in a day on one occasion, Vladimir swallowed his "ink- 
bottles." But he enjoyed the difficulties of the work and he 
expressed a whimsical regret when he was released from prison. 
In Siberia he warmed the pages over a paraffin lamp so as to 
bring out the invisible writing. 

But this was not the whole of his work in exile. With the 
help of his wife he made translations from Webb and Engels 
which were ordered and paid for by Struve & welcome addi 
tion to his income, for the authorities allowed him only eight 
roubles a month, and his family could supplement it with very 
little more. 

His only pastimes were walking and hunting. He shot hares 
and woodcocks with great enthusiasm but his very impetuosity 
prevented him from making a large bag. He had a passionate 
devotion to the sport, however, and never lost an opportunity 
of spending a day in the country with his gun. During these 
excursions he also became better acquainted with the Siberian 
peasant, an independent type on the verge of revolt against the 
agents of the central Government. Ulyanov, who knew the 
mentality of the Volga peasantry, observed both differences and 
resemblances between the two peoples. 

The differences between them depended on the fact that the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS IO5 

Siberian peasants did not suffer from land-hunger. They had 
land enough for their needs. There were no large estates in 
the possession of country gentry or granted by imperial decree 
to officers and bureaucrats as a reward for faithful service. 
The purely Russian peasant could never forget that under the 
Mongol Khans and the early Russian Czars the land was the 
property of the ruler but it was cultivated by the men of the 
soil. Only in the days of Peter the Great, or of Catherine II 
and Elizabeth, who used to give estates to their lovers, was 
the land taken away from the peasants. 

The peasants never acknowledged these usurpations. They 
awaited a mysterious "White Letter," a mystical Decree which 
would restore their land, and the certainty of its coming was a 
conviction at the heart of their minds. There were many 
occasions in the history of Russia when the peasants tried to 
recover their lands by force. From the days of the Empress 
Catherine until 1861, when Alexander II published his decree 
of Liberation, peasant revolts shook Russia from end to end; 
and even after that time, when the country was covered by a 
network of military posts, local uprisings troubled the au 
thorities. 

The Siberian peasants dreamt of separation from Russia, for 
they were of a different race. Their forbears were exiles and 
criminals deported from the Asiatic provinces, or Mongols of 
many tribes. So they had a traditional hatred and fear of 
Russia which was now increased when they felt the intolerable 
burden and expense of the imperial system. 

But the resemblances between the two types were no less 
striking. Both were ultimately anarchic and yet of passive 
character. Both were accustomed throughout history to a 
large measure of self-government within the peasant com 
munes, and the central authorities were compelled to tolerate 
this system because it was impossible to exercise very close con 
trol over such wide areas. Their passivity was due to their 
complete lack of education, with the result that progress meant 



io6 LENIN 

nothing to them and if any pressure forced them to change ef 
life or of economic conditions it had to come from the State. 

Ulyanov understood and noted all these facts. He was con 
vinced that the peasantry yielded to the power of the State 
only because they would acknowledge the rule of any body of 
resolute men who could enforce their will with heavy 
penalties. 

When that idea came to him he smiled and rubbed his 
hands. "Ah, Karl Marx/ he reflected, "y u had a knowledge 
of the human animal! You knew best of all that it likes to be 
one of a herd. And the herd likes to have a shepherd, a shep 
herd with a whip and a sharp-toothed dog." 

Ulyanov used to return from his hunting expeditions in a 
great state of excitement and exhilaration. "My dear/ he 
would say to his wife, "I knew the Russian villages only in the 
Volga district, but here I am a student at a regular University." 
He would describe to her all his observations and impressions. 
"Who do you think will ever lead the peasants ? How can he 
do it? Nobody can lead them in a normal fashion. The 
Russian peasantry can be driven forward by the club of a 
Peter the Great, or by the machine guns and bayonets of a 
modern Governor. But how can we manage them? We must 
have some more effective whip, which must be fashioned. It 
must be such a whip that a flick of it will move both heaven 
and earth. We must think it over." 

Ulyanov meditated on the subject as he walked about the 
steppes. Then he poured out his ideas again to his wife. When 
speaking to her his eyes narrowed, he ground his teeth to 
gether, and his whole face was contorted as though with the 
hate of battle. His aspect and his words terrified Nadezhda 
Konstantynovna, who grew pale and pressed her hands to her 
bosom. But she did not oppose him for she was full of faith 
in this direct and ruthless man. 

They called occasionally upon the other exiles scattered about 
the neighbourhood, but Vladimir never disclosed his brooding 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 107 

thoughts to them. He knew that what he had decided upon 
would not meet with any sympathy amongst them, for they 
did not pass far beyond the loyal Socialism of their German 
comrades. None of them equaled Plekhanov in boldness of 
mind, though even for Plekhanov he felt a diminished respect 
after making his acquaintance. 

Vladimir did not encourage his fellow-exiles to call too 
often at his house because such visits increased the vigilance 
of the secret police. When the police began to spy upon him, 
to search his rooms or to put him through cross-examinations, 
he found that he could not concentrate upon his work. Besides 
that, constant social intercourse led to arguments and mis 
understandings, to gossip and backbiting. Even challenges to 
duels were quite common among people nervously exhausted 
by long exile. For his nearly ascetic contemplation Ulyanov 
required peace and solitude. 

Meanwhile, with gun on shoulder, he penetrated into the 
steppes. He liked to sit in the shadow of a birch tree enjoying 
the vista of vast fields and luxuriant meadows covered with 
wild flowers of bewildering color and intoxicating scent: 
violets, and lilies of many colors, and wild roses. Cattle and 
sheep and horses grazed over the grasslands unattended. To 
the south, far away, loomed the dark blue chain of the Sayans. 
Large and rich villages were scattered at great distances among 
the wheat fields and birch groves. Swift brooks and rivers 
tumbled their way through deep ravines down to the YenissaL 
Grouse, quail, and bustards moved in the high gra:ks, and high 
overhead, like a black speck on the blue tent of fjfe sky, a great 
vulture hovered. It was seeking its prey, crying out for destruc 
tion, as though in anger that it could not kill and tear in pieces 
every living thing. Here and there, in the grass and under 
growth, stood rough pillars of red sandstone. They -were 
dolmens, the old burial-places of the innumerable tribes which 
for centuries had wandered across the fertile plains of Siberia. 

Ulyanov knew that the great Mongol chieftains had passed 



io8 LENIN 

over this ground on their way to the west, leaving behind them 
the bodies of many warriors to sleep forever under the red 
monoliths. The sons of Genghiz Khan, thought Ulyanov, 
had far to go and they had no clear goal in sight. Yet they 
reached the plains of Poland and of Hungary. They saw 
Silesia, and Budapest, and Vienna. But for quarrels amongst 
them they might have swept around the walls of Rome and 
Paris; and now, centuries after, the thoughts of a Mongol fol 
lowed the Mongol hordes in their irrestible advance. . . . 

On the right bank of the Yenissai the rich Cossacks lived 
in their hamlets where they had been settled long ago by the 
Czars to defend the southern frontier of Siberia. They re 
mained, although an enemy no longer existed to invade the 
powerful Empire which spread like the net of a spider over 
nearly one-fifth of the globe. In the less fertile parts of the 
same district the authorities also settled liberated peasants, 
homeless men who had been deprived of their property in 
Russia. Here, in a rich countryside, they lived their useless 
lives, illiterate, lazy, and perpetually at feud with one another. 
They stole horses and cattle from the Cossacks, stole their 
crops, felled their trees, emptied their nets, set their houses on 
fire, and murdered their rich neighbours in constant ambushes. 

Across the river were the Tartars, tending droves of horses 
and flocks of sheep, ever on guard against wolves and robbers, 
and strict followers of the prophet of Mecca. An unceasing 
hostility reigned between the two banks of the Yenissai where 
the powerful river, narrowing between the red gorges of Kizyl 
Kaya roared and foamed in a mist of spray on its journey to 
the great white northern sea. When Ulyanov looked down 
upon the whirling torrent he saw himself apart from the 
tumult and hysteria of the world. He, a persecuted exile, 
was laying large plans and concentrating upon his purpose 
without emotion or frenzy. As he listened to the waters and 
felt the vibration of the enormous power pent up by primitive 
nature, he understood that in the army of the oppressed there 



GOD OF THE GODLESS IO9 

was no man but himself who could be its leader. He would 
build up the new life of the world. He alone had the power 
and the will and the experience for this great work. Was it 
possible that he could perish in prison or on the gallows? 
Could he be shot down or die in exile? That would be an 
aimless waste of the forces necessary for accomplishing the 
great design. 

He came to the conclusion then that he could not remain in 
Russia, the slavish and illiterate Russia of the Czars. It was 
a country like a brackish pool overgrown with every kind of 
weed. He wanted freedom, fresh air, liberty to use his strength 
unhampered. He knew very well that, after he was sent to 
Siberia and his confederates arrested, his Party had quickly 
broken to pieces. It was doing nothing at all Only with 
great difficulty was any communication preserved between the 
few members who were left. It was clear to him that the 
arduous work of spreading the ideas of the Party was produc 
ing meagre results. Yet he knew that he was called for a 
great task. "I am crushing great rocks with a small hammer/ 5 
he thought bitterly. "What I want is a great machine, some 
thing heavy and strong. This machine I can have by found 
ing a Russian newspaper to be published abroad and spread 
throughout Russia by a secret organization. That will be a 
hammer to destroy and a tool to construct. And I am strong 
enough to control it." 

From that moment the exile lost his peace of mind. He 
could neither eat nor sleep. He wandered about, silent and 
restless, devoured by a feverish longing for hard work and 
for an opportunity to carry out his schemes. 

With this in his mind he returned to St. Petersburg when 
his exile was over, leaving his wife at Ufa. He went all over 
the capital, carefully investigating the state of the Party and 
the spirit that was being shown in revolutionary circles. He 
took counsel with the prominent men in the Socialist move- 



no LENIN 

merit, and when a complete picture of the situation was formed 
in his mind he wrote a letter to his wife. 

"All that I decided upon/ he wrote, "when I looked across 
the steppes near Minusinsk and when I watched the rushing 
Yenissai, will soon become established facts. I am leaving for 
abroad. Wait until I send for you and then come at once." 



CHAPTER X 



IN A SMALL tavern which was like hundreds of others to be 
found in the suburbs of Munich, a modestly dressed 
woman with a serious and concentrated face was sitting 
at a table near the window. A glass of beer stood in front 
of her but it was untouched. Every now and then she looked 
impatiently at her watch and it was clear that she was expect 
ing a visitor. 

Just as the clock above the counter struck eleven, the door 
was pushed open and a short, stocky man, in a grey overcoat 
and a shabby soft hat, entered the dimly lit room, which was 
empty save for the women at the table. He regarded the 
rather dingy figure for a moment and then crossed over to her. 

"Bakhariov?" he asked in a low voice. She nodded her 
head. The man took a seat, ordered a glass of coffee and 
waited enquiringly. 

"Dr. Yordanov?" asked the woman, when the landlord had 
left to carry out the order. 

"Yes. Yordanov." 

"Are you the one who publishes Spares, the newspaper 
which carries on the struggle for justice?" 

For a moment he hesitated. Then he nodded slowly. 

"And if I am the one what of it?" 

"I am here to give you a considerable sum of money for 



GOD OF THE GODLESS m 

the paper. I know that the management has financial troubles 
it is always the same with illegal papers published abroad. 
So. . . ." She stopped while a waiter served the coffee. 

"I must explain it all to you/ she went on. "I am a sister 
of the Bakhariov who was hanged for organizing an attempt 
against Nicholas IL I want revenge, but not on the Czar, 
because that would lead nowhere. If we got rid of him, 
another would be put in his place. The evils we sufier don t 
depend on the Czar alone. The whole structure of society is 
responsible for them." The man smiled imperceptibly and 
there was a gleam of irony in his narrow eyes. "In Spares 
you make war upon the Social Revolutionaries, calling them 
cowards, romantics and petty bourgeois. So they are. I know 
them well. Spares also opposes the theories of the loyal 
Socialists who come to compromise inevitably and accept 
bourgeois ideals. And your paper proves that we must create 
without a moment s delay a real socialist and revolutionary 
party which, even though the times are difficult for it, should 
start the struggle not only against Czarism and the bourgeoisie 
but also against their helpers, the Social Revolutionaries, the 
Democrats and the Liberals." 

"O Lord!" groaned Dr. Yordanov. "You certainly read 
Spares carefully. But I don t see the connection between all 
this and avenging the death of Bakhariov." 

"I want to crush the Social Revolutionaries," whispered the 
woman passionately. "I want to annihilate them! They send 
enthusiasts to their deaths while they hide themselves and con 
tinue to deceive the people," 

"Indeed?" he drawled, watching the woman s face atten 
tively. "Well, your proposal is worth discussing. We must 
talk it over amongst ourselves." 

"Martov, Potresov and Sasulitch won t oppose it, will they?" 
she began. 

"I see that you are well acquainted with the editorial board 
of Spares" he observed ironically. 



112 LENIN 

"Of course I am. I have been seeking an introduction to 
you for a long time. . . ." 

He interrupted her sharply. "On what conditions?" he 
asked. 

"At the present moment I have three thousand marks to do 
as I like with. My condition is that I must be taken on as a 
permanent contributor to the oaper. I have a good style and 
I am well educated. I studied under Professor Lesgaft at St. 
Petersburg." 

"And what is your name?" he asked quietly. 

"Roshchina: Viera Ivanovna Roshchina. My husband is a 
veterinary in the Kuban district." 

The man sat silent, lost in thought, his expression softened 
and kindly; but his half-closed eyes were examining the 
woman narrowly. The nervous movements of her fingers did 
not escape him. He saw a gleam of triumph in her pale eyes. 

At last he looked up and said softly, "I must discuss this with 
my friends, Viera Ivanovna. We shall meet here tomorrow 
at the same hour, and then you will have our answer." 

He called for the bill, said good-bye to the woman with a 
friendly smile, and left the room. 

For some time he walked around the town. Then, satisfied 
that he was not being followed, he made his way to Schwabing 
and entered the courtyard of a tunbled-down old house. 

He went at once into the kitchen of a small flat in the 
building and addressed the woman who was there: "Drop 
your cooking at once, my dear. Go and find Parvus, Bobrov 
and Rosa Luxemburg for me. She should be with Parvus. 
Tell them to come here without delay. Then get hold of our 
compositor, Blumenfeld. And hurry up with it. Delays are 
dangerous." 

He was in a gay mood. He walked about the little room, 
rubbing his hands and humming. An hour later he was still 
walking up and down, and he was still in a cheerful mood, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS II3 

as he finished describing to his friends the encounter with 
the woman. 

"They re cunning people, those gendarmes. Behold our 
revered friends Lopukhin, Semyakin, von Kottcn, Klunovitch 
and Harting. But Vladimir Ulyanov has some brains in his 
head as well, even though he is only a Bulgarian, Dr. Jordanov. 
Ha! Ha! They want to pay three thousand marks for the 
honour of belonging to our organization. Excellent! I shall 
take the money and use it as a bellows on Spares. The farth 
ings collected from poor comrades in Russia don t supply fuel 
enough, but three thousand marks is a tremendous sum; Trust 
me, 111 lead the gendarmes astray!" 

He laughed loudly and rubbed his hands. Nadezhda 
Konstantynovna sat silent, as always, her eyes fixed fondly on 
her husband. But his friends opposed him and Parvus began 
the attack. Extremely voluble, and firing with excitement like 
a heap of dry straw, he stamped his feet, waved his arms 
about, and seemed almost to be out of his mind. 

"It s a crime," he raved, "to take money from the police. 
It is treason. It will never be forgiven by Plekhanov, by the 
Liberty for Labor* group, by our Party or by its sympathizers. 
First of all, we must remember. . . ." He talked for an entire 
hour and would have gone on longer had not Ulyanov sprung 
towards him, his eyes narrowed with a terrible anger. 

"Enough!" he said sternly. "Ill take the money. I spit upon 
what idiots or sympathizers* may say. All that matters is our 
aim. How we achieve it is immaterial as far as Fm con 
cerned." 

Bobrov nervously made a gesture of dissent. Ulyanov, 
noticing it, looked at him inquisitively and repeated, "111 taks 
the money. Aren t you rather full of bourgeois notions about 
propriety? But why did you praise me when I organized a 
raid on the postoffice at Tula and gained a few thousand 
roubles? You knew as well as anybody that the money be 
longed not only to the bourgeoisie but also to poor peasants and 



H 4 LENIN 

destitute workers. And yet you shouted, Bravo! bravo! Get 
rid of your prejudices, comrades. Don t worry about rights 
and wrongs. I take all the responsibility upon my own 
shoulders. Yes, all of it." 

The quarrel was over and Ulyanov smiled again. "Comrade 
Blumenfeld," he said, "you know all the Russians in Leipzig, 
Dresden and Munich. . . ." 

"And in Berlin/ 5 added the compositor proudly. 

"And in Berlin," agreed Ulyanov with a laugh. "Tomor 
row evening, then, just before eleven o clock, drop into that 
tavern and let me know the name of the woman who is being 
used by the police. She said that her name was Roshchina. 
I shall be waiting for you on the corner and then 111 go in for 
the money." 

For a long time the comrades continued to discuss the affair. 
Vladimir Ulyanov soothed their revolutionary consciences with 
such a disarming simplicity and convincing logic that they 
were soon in a good humor again, and picturing to one an 
other the surprised faces of the Secret Service agents when 
they found themselves caught in such an easy trap. 

When they had departed, Ulyanov dictated to his wife with 
a cunning smile a few letters to his nearest friends, in which 
he described the whole incident, his own proposals, and his 
decision not to apply to Martov, Axelrod or Potresov, who 
would hamper him with their bourgeois prejudices. Each 
letter he signed himself, and he added, in his own handwrit 
ing, below the signature, "It seems that I must either transform 
the minds of these people who call themselves Socialists, or 
else break with them. Neither morality nor a code of honor 
exists for us. Our work is to revolutionize human life and 
human ideas. Remember these words." That done, he walked 
about the room again, rubbing his hands and hum.rm.ng cheer 
fully to himself. 

Next evening, as he loitered at the corner near the tavern, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 115 

Blumeiifeid approached Mm and whispered the results of his 
scrutiny. 

"I know the old girl/ he said. "She is Shumilova. She is a 
relative of the secret agent Zenaide Gerngross-Juchenko, who 
betrayed the terrorists, Bakharyov, Ivan Rasputin, Akimova and 
Savina. At the present moment she is hiding from the Social 
Revolutionaries of Leipzig and Heidelberg, who are on the 
look-out for her. She is one of the real spies, Vladimir Ilyitch, 
in the pay of that skunk Harting. I ve heard that her official 
pseudonym is Mikheiev. " 

"Thanks, comrade, 3 said Ulyanov and went into the tavern. 
He sat down at the table where Shumilova was waiting and 
greeted her pleasantly. 

"Our group considers," he began, "that your struggle against 
the bourgeois element in the Social Revolutionaries corresponds 
with its own ideas. So we accept your proposal." 

"Very well," she replied with assumed calmness. "Here is 
the money, three thousand marks. And now, when can I come 
to the editorial offices to start my job ? I have an article ready 
on the activities of our common enemies against Spares! 

"Hold on! Just a moment," muttered Ulyanov, carefully 
counting the banknotes. Then he put them all in the pocket 
of his overcoat and looked at her with mockery in his eyes. 

"Dear Madame Shumilova," he said softly, leaning towards 
her across the table and emphasizing every word. "Would 
you mind expressing our gratitude to the very dear Zenaide 
Gemgross-Juchenko, to the revered Counsellor Harting, and 
to the other Intelligence people, for this precious gift ? Believe 
me, not a penny of it will be wasted. As for your collabora 
tion, you may perhaps offer it to a few impetuous stalwarts of 
the Social Revolutionaries who are anxious to get in touch with 
Zenaide Teodorovna, And your money will be returned with 
interest with interest, dear lady. Good evening!" 

"You monster!" she cried. 

From that day Spares flared up again. Its attacks upon the 



n6 LENIN 

bourgeois Social Revolutionaries, upon the opportunism of the 
Social Democrats, upon Struve and Tugan-Baranovski with 
their legalized Marxism became more and more bitter. As 
a result, increasingly numerous groups of workers drifted away 
from the well-known parties, which was exactly what Ulyanov 
was aiming at. Where theoretical Socialism failed to hold 
them,, his paper supplied them with a cut-and-dried pro 
gramme, and with a definite outlet for their energy. It filled 
them with a revolutionary will to act. It led them beyond the 
pale of "society" and called upon them to reconstruct their 
lives according to the tenets of Socialism without calling upon 
the old gods the State, the Church, the family and the 
moral code of the bourgeoisie. 

Ulyanov crystallized all this in his address to the workers 
who came to arrange the programme of the second congress 
of the Social Democrats. "All ideas, laws and sympathies are 
dead and done with except one: we must have a revolution 
which aims at creating, not a bourgeois republic, but a Work 
ers Commonwealth, upon the ruins of the old world. This is 
our one object, which we shall achieve without regard for any 
thing or anybody that may stand in our way. We shall advance 
through crime and blood. Men and laws will go down before 
us. We must be ruthless in our victory when it comes, and 
ruthless in our actions now." 

In those days the young Russian Socialist Party was united 
behind its traditional leaders, its idols : Plekhanov, Deich, 
Axelrod, Martov, Sasulitch, Potresov. But these were taken 
aback by the bold articles which appeared in Spares, and the 
first coolness, which was to turn later into open enmity, mani 
fested itself. 

External events, however, restored the old unity, when it 
suddenly became clear that Spares could no longer be pro 
duced in Germany. The printers, under pressure of the police, 
who were acting on the request of the Russian Intelligence 
Service, declined to bring out the paper. Plekhanov insisted 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 117 

chat it should be transferred to Geneva because he wanted It 
to be under his personal control and influence, but Ulyanov 
resolved to migrate to London in order to be independent of 
his old teacher and his uncritical followers. 

He passed entire days and nights in deep meditation. His 
resolution was clear, and his intention of fulfilling it, but he 
had no money at all Considerable capital was necessary for 
the journey to England and for the publication of the journal 
in that country. Yet it was very seldom that money came from 
Russia, and then it was only in small sums, collected penny 
by penny from workers at their meetings. And more than 
once even those sums were intercepted by the police, who 
traced the collections and arrested the socialist agents. 

One day, desiring solitude for his reflections, Ulyanov left 
home and rode across the town on his bicycle. Late at night 
he returned and called upon a Latvian named Walcis. Many 
vears before, this man had been exiled to Siberia for the crime 
of coining, but he had escaped abroad and set up an engraving 
business. He sometimes visited Ulyanov, asking for work 
within the movement, but Vladimir gave him, no decisive reply 
because Walcis was an illiterate fellow and there was no guar 
antee that his revolutionary sympathies went very deep. 

Now Ulyanov was knocking at his door in a small and 
dirty hotel. 

"I come to you, comrade, on very important business, 1 he 
said. "Can I count on you to keep a secret?" 
"Certainly you can." Walcis was delighted and flattered. 
"Could you possibly make in your workshop a good impres 
sion of the Russian banknote and print off two hundred copies 
of it at least? But remember, secrecy is essential." 
"I must think that over," replied the engraver. 
A few days of troubled expectation went by. The restless 
Ulyanov found it impossible to stay at home. When his day s 
work was over he went out and wandered about the town. 
He was like a caged lion. The comrades in Russia were wait- 



Il8 LENIN 

ing for the new issues of Spares, yet the paper could not come 
out and there was no money avaikble for its publication in 
London. Rumors reached him that Plekhanov was secretly 
mocking at Spares smouldering to extinction. 

At a moment when his restlessness had become unbearable, 
late at night, somebody knocked at the door of his flat in 
Schwabing. The visitor was using a prearranged signal. It 
was Walcis, who entered the flat with an air of deep mystery, 

"Light the lamp/ he whispered. Then he took from under 
his overcoat a bulky parcel tied with string. 

"Money !" shouted Uiyanov when he caught sight of it. 
"Spares will continue! * 

"Five hundred banknotes of ten roubles each," boasted 
Walcis. "They are excellent imitations. Nobody will find 
anything the matter with them. Fve tested them already by 
changing ten of them at a bank. I had no trouble at all." 

Uiyanov wrung the engraver by the hands, laughing and 
rejoicing as he thanked him. 

"Never shall I forget this service/ he said. "Now, can you 
give me the die as well? It may come in useful." 

"Alas," groaned Walcis, lowering his eyes, "the die broke 
as I was printing the five hundred and eleventh note." 

Uiyanov looked at him sharply. Then he said evenly, "I 
hope you said Amen*? But never mind. I thank you, com 
rade, for what you have done." 

When Walcis had gone, Krupskaya remarked that the man 
would continue to print the forged banknotes for himself. 

"No doubt he will," laughed Uiyanov, "but that s none of 
my business. He ll go on printing them as long as they let 
him. In the meantime, let s get down to work." 

They divided the money into small parcels of one hundred 
roubles each, and next day they gave them to the comrades to 
change into marks in various quarters of the town. At three 
in the afternoon Vladimir was buying English pounds and 
tickets for London, while Nadezhda Konstantynovna was 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

packing their books and poor belongings in a small trunk. 

A period of feverish activity began as soon as they reached 
London. There they were joined by a new colleague, a young 
Socialist named Leon Bronstein, who was known under the 
assumed name of Trotsky. Shortly before he had escaped from 
a Siberian prison and slipped across the frontier. He was a 
man well known in the student and worker groups where he 
commented successfully upon Marxism, and now, feeling an 
irresistible attraction towards journalism, he began to write 
daily for Spares. 

Ulyanov watched him attentively. One day, when Trotsky 
had just left them, he said to Krapskaya, "That lad has first- 
rate abilities as an agitator. What is more, he has no scruples. 
He will go far, without doubt. He is impulsive and energetic, 
like many of his race, but he has no staying power. He wants 
a mentor like myself, someone who never takes fire. And I 
want his help, for at present no one else is capable of thinking 
things out or of acting according to my schemes." 

Nadezhda Konstantynovna disagreed on the point. "He 
uses too much emphasis/ she said. "His style is arrogant, 
shallow and unattractive. It doesn t convince. It has no 
depth and no simplicity. 5 * 

"He s young yet," laughed Ulyanov. "He will soon pick up 
everything. I want to introduce him into our group with 
Plekhanov. He will be the seventh man, which is a good 
thing when a vote is taken, and a man on my side, which will 
help to carry my proposals." 

Plekhanov, however, would have nothing to do with 
Trotsky. He refused to admit him into the group and would 
not even allow him to be on the committee of Dawn and of 
Spares. Trotsky was deeply offended and soon afterwards he 
left London for Paris. 

The tendency of Spares under Ulyanov s direction did not 
please Plekhanov at all. He even came over to London to 
remonstrate in person but it was of no effect. 



120 LENIN 

"I am a disciple of revolutionary and militant Marxism/ 
repeated Ulyanov time after time. "I will not change even if 
I am expelled for it/ 5 

One day he invited Plekhanov for a walk and led him to 
Highgate Cemetery. 

"Why on earth are you strolling around this rubbish heap?" 
asked Plekhanov. 

"You won t call it that in a moment, George Valentin- 
ovitch." 

After walking on for a few hundred yards they stopped 
before a small tombstone. 

"Karl Marx," read Plekhanov aloud. 

"Karl Marx/ repeated Ulyanov. "Let us sit down here in 
silence and reflect. The place deserves it." 

For a long time they sat without a word. Ulyanov, with 
bent head, watched the old revolutionary from the corners of 
his eyes. He felt a cold shiver down his back. 

"Plekhanov is thinking about himself," he reflected. So he 
sat tip and began to speak, holding with his eyes the pale 
eyes of Plekhanov. 

"I can t make fine speeches. I can only tell you what I am 
thinking of at this moment, what has been forming in my 
mind ever since I first met you, George Valentinovitch. I have 
sifted everything to the bottom. I have said aloud before this 
what ! am going to tell you now. I have said it on this spot, 
recalling to my mind the face of the greatest of the prophets, 
Karl Marx. He heard my confession and. confirmed me in my 
design. 

"If the working class waits for recognition from the ruling 
burgeoisie, all will be lost. Recognition will only be granted 
when our enemies have irresistible weapons at their disposal 
their technicians and their scientists will forge them. Before 
that happens we must crush the bourgeois class. We must 
keep the whole world in a state of perpetual revolution. We 
must scorn whatever the bourgeoisie gives us as a sop. We 



GOD OF THE GODLESS J2 i 

must always have at hand our own weapon with which to stab 
suddenly at the right moment. And I am sure, George Valen- 
tinovitch, that there is no other way." 

The old Socialist frowned and groaned involuntarily. "But 
in the meantime you are issuing counterfeit money. You are 
shaming the ideals of revolution and of Socialism." 

Ulyanov ground his teeth together and his eyes narrowed. 
"I am using bad money, but it is good the moment that it is 
used for the revolution. Only conquered peoples feel shame. 
Conquerors have no such word." 

"Still . . ." began Plekhanov. 

"Not another word! What you say pains me. Yes, it hurts 
me. So I will finish what I have thought about many a time 
at the tomb of Marx. Remember, I will not hesitate a moment 
to split the Party, to break with you. I have no fear of the 
crushing accusation which I can hurl at you. Not a scruple 
will cross my mind about overthrowing you, or about branding 
your name forever, although you are a man whom I revere 
with all my heart. I have nothing of my own except my idea, 
and that I will defend tooth and nail, with words and bayonets 
and gallows. Come with me all the way and your name will 
shine like the sun. If you part company with me, wot upon 
you!" 

"A threat?" asked Plekhanov. 

"No!" said Ulyanov in a passionate whisper. "A warning 
and an entreaty!" 

They said no more, but returned to London in a depressed 
silence. Soon afterwards Plekhanov departed; their frigid fare 
wells embarrassed both of them. There was nothing that they 
could say to one another. 

Shortly afterwards Ulyanov went for a month to Brittany, 
where his mother was staying. He left behind him a few 
articles for Spares which were signed with a new pen-name, 
Lenin. He used the name for the first time quite subcon 
sciously. The word crossed his mind, he wrote it down, and 



122 LENIN 

then he looked at it in perplexity. "Lenin?" Suddenly he 
saw before his eyes the beloved and spiritualized face of Lena, 
with her golden hair and her compassionate eyes. 

"Has she heard any news of me?" he thought with a sigh. 
"She may take me for a monster as this Shumilova did. But 
she must have forgotten me long ago." 

His dreams were shattered by Nadezhda Konstantynovna 
asking him the address of some comrade in New York. He 
swept aside his romantic memories and turned to the business 
of the moment. 

"Nonsense," he whispered to himself. "Lenin has as much 
or as little reason as my other pen-names Ulin, Ilyin, Ivanov, 
Telin. In the same way I was Dr. Yordanov in Germany, 
Modrachek in Prague, and here I am Richter. A name means 
nothing. It is a trifle compared with the aim of my life." 

Then he laughed and set himself to finding the address of 
the comrade in New York who sent one hundred dollars to 
Spares every six months. 



CHAPTER XI 



LENIN RAGED up and down the room, talking to himself, 
although his wife Krupskaya sat at the table. He did 
not seem even to notice her presence. 
"Good!" he shouted. "Splendid! The committee outvoted 
me, did it? We must transfer Spares to Geneva, must we? 
That is the end. I know what will happen. There is no 
doubt about it. Plekhanov will take me over on paper. It 
will be my duty to break with Plekhanov and his friends, to 
fight against them. It hurts me. It depresses me. . . ." 

Suddenly he staggered and fell down senseless. Terrible con 
vulsions shook his rigid body. He ground his teeth and 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

moaned, muttering disconnected and meaningless sentences. 
Nadezhda Konstantynovna brought him round with difficulty, 
and when at last his eyes opened he clearly remembered at 
once all that had passed. He sat up, cursing, and sternly 
whispered to his wife: "Write!" 

She sat at the table at once. 

"Write to Trotsky that he must hasten at once to Geneva. 
His job is to widen the breach between us and the Plekhanov 
gang. I want to remain out of it for a time so that I can come 
in at a crisis. Then write to Zinoviev and Kamenev. They are 
hot-headed young students with brave hearts. Tell them to 
come to me. I must have some stout Russians with me. Still 
it can t be helped. When you make war you must use what 
weapons you have. Get those letters ready at once." 

Lenin arrived in Geneva completely broken down, ill and 
feverish. There he had long consultations with Trotsky and 
with Lunacharsky, whom he met for the first time. He was 
pleased to make the acquaintance of this brilliant orator whose 
noble voice inspired the confidence of all who heard it. Luna- 
charsky was a true Russian of wide culture and of varied 
abilities. But Lenin s first enthusiasm was damped when he 
had more time to study the man. 

"Here is a Russian," he reflected. "But of what use is he? 
He suffers from the curse of his race. He goes to extremes in 
his mind, but his thoughts are not based on realities. He be 
lieves in our victory as though it were some supernatural 
miracle which will suddenly alter the whole trend of human 
nature. He is superstitious and a word-monger. Lunacharsky 
will follow me until he sees that we will obtain our rights with 
blood, that we will lead mankind to freedom by way of serf 
dom. Then he will beat his breast in slavish repentance." 

It was not long before Trotsky opened the attack on Plek 
hanov. The whole editorial committee of Spares were ac 
customed to gather at the Cafe Landolt where they Idiscussed 
the programme of the Third Congress of Russian Socialists. 



124 LENIN 

Pleklianov and Axelrod were at odds with the opinions ex 
pressed by the new members of the Party, but the students and 
workers who listened to their debates became enthusiastic sup 
porters of Lenin Y new programme. At last Trotsky turned 
to Plekhanov in direct opposition. 

"You understand, comrade/* he asked, "why you are no 
longer supported by members of the Party ? Because you have 
lost touch with the working class. You have emigrated from 
Russia and that has destroyed in you the sense of the Russian 
reality. Your words and your ideas are good enough for the 
loyal European Socialists, but not for us. You have become 
Museum exhibits." 

From that day, not only on the committee of the Party but 
even in the editorial offices of Spares itself, relations with the 
Plekhanov faction became so strained that Lenin, Martov and 
Potresov refused to collaborate any longer. Lenin, his wife, 
and Martov were busy for whole days and nights sending out 
letters and circulars to explain the situation that had arisen in 
the Party and to get the money for a new paper. 

A few weeks later they published a small paper which they 
called Forward. When the trial number was brought to them 
Trotsky read out some of its attacks on Plekhanov, which 
called the old leader a coward and demanded a new con 
ference of the Party. Lenin suffered a mental agony. Still an 
invalid, he sat in a chair gazing up at the blue sky, his cold 
hands clenched and his lips moving silently. A mortal strug 
gle was about to break out, and Lenin knew that leadership of 
the workers would fall on his shoulders. He had to take into 
his own hands the lives of millions of unhappy men. He 
would have to make brother fight against brother and friend 
against friend. 

At that moment Lenin wished fervently that the burden 
might be taken from him, but all in vain. The battle was 
begun at once. Accusations, calumnies, invective, hatred filled 
the air. Forward, poor paper though it was, accomplished the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 125 

work which it set out to do, and despite the intrigues and 
efforts of Plekhanov the Third Congress of the Russian Social- 
ist Party became the First Congress of the Bolsheviks and the 
nucleus of the Communist Party to which more and more of 
the partisans rallied as they gave up their allegiance to the old 
Socialist leaders. It was useless interference when Bebel tried 
to persuade Lenin to effect a compromise with Plekhanov s 
Mensheviks, or to accept arbitration in the dispute. To the 
leader of the Bolsheviks the future was now clear. His teacher 
had diverged entirely from the way of revolutionary Marxism. 
In the eyes of Lenin he was now only an agent of the bourgeois 
class, an enemy who must be crushed in the end. 

For the first time Lenin proclaimed openly and to the whole 
world the watchwords of Russian Communism, commanding 
the working class not to aim at the creation of a bourgeois 
republic in Russia and not to become ensnared by the rotting 
parliamentary system of the West. 

"We are in the act of founding the first Socialist Republic in 
Russia/ he used to declare to the comrades who called on him. 
"This is our ideal. I do not promise rashly that it will be 
achieved at once. In Russia and abroad we are fighting under 
the most unequal conditions. Yet I think that we can our 
selves start a revolution which will show for ever the dif 
ferences between a bourgeois and a socialist coup d Stat. 
Further steps will be easier after that. As the revolution 
spreads, our ideals will come nearer to realization; and we 
must never draw back." 

The name of Ulyanov-Lenin, as it became famous, attracted 
hosts of followers and faithful comrades as well as fierce and 
fanatical enemies. He had no fear of the enemies, and as for 
the followers, he only wanted to see them attached to the 
cause, not to himself. He used to quote the words of the poet: 
"Our recognition is not in the applause of the mob but in the 
hatred and the curses of defeated foes." 
When, after the unhappy war with Japan, a bourgeois revo- 



126 LENIN 

lution which broke out in Russia, was carried on by the 
Socialists, Lenin crept back to St. Petersburg. The Mensheviks, 
directed from Geneva by Plekhanov, created a Council of 
Workers* Delegates. At once the Bolsheviks, including Trot 
sky, Zinovyev, Kamenev and Badayev, worked their way into 
it. They gave a truly revolutionary direction to this body: for 
the first time in the history of the human race the working 
class took power into its hands., made war against the bour 
geoisie, and spread the idea of a Socialist Revolution. 

Concealed, unknown to anybody, in the gallery of the room 
where the Council deliberated, Lenin overheard the speeches of 
the Mensheviks and the replies of his comrades who were his 
followers. He knew then that only oppression, violence and 
an unheard of terrorism would ever bring them all together. 
As the Mensheviks discussed coming to an understanding with 
the Government, Lenin marked down man after man of them 
who would have to be put violently out of the way. And then, 
as he looked at his own followers, he had to ask himself the 
painful question whether they were brave and persevering 
enough to prevent the Councils, which were springing up 
everywhere, from being suppressed. 

He went to Moscow, for he knew that a workers uprising 
would break out there first of all, and that the barricades 
would be raised in the streets. He formed Councils and gave 
his instructions to Chanzer-Murat, who was the leader of the 
projected revolt. 

Meanwhile the wave of revolution spread across Russia, from 
the German frontier to Vladivostok. The authorities lost 
their heads and surrendered everywhere to the rebels without 
resistance. The army at the seat of war espoused the cause 
of the people. 

Nobody knew that the insidious Witte was silently approv 
ing this outbreak among the people because it would force 
Nicholas II to sign the decree for the new Constitution, which 
provided for the summoning of the Duma. The favorite 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 127 

counsellor of Alexander III was well aware that the parlia 
mentary system would blind and captivate all the disturbed 
social classes and pacify them for years to coine. 

But Lenin was aware of this as well. He feared that Witte 
might be able to turn the revolution into the quiet backwater 
of parliamentarianism. So, through his followers, he gave a 
stormy character to the Councils of Workers Delegates and 
excited the people to an armed uprising. At length it broke 
out in Moscow, but it was drowned in its own blood. 

Immediately the opponents of Witte, to shame him in the 
eyes of the Emperor, put in motion the whole machinery of 
suppression. Punitive expeditions set out under the command 
of Rinn, of Count Meller, and of Baron Rennenkampf. Gal 
lows were set up all over the countryside. Hundreds of revolu 
tionaries were sentenced to death and fell under a hail of 
bullets. The gaols were glutted with the political enemies of 
the Czar. Witte, for fear of his own future, broke up the 
Councils of Workers Delegates and imprisoned all the revolu 
tionaries upon whom he could lay his hands. 

Lenin concealed himself in Finland, where he became to all 
appearances a German printer whose name was Ervin Weikoff . 
He travelled constantly between Kuokkala, Perkarvi, Vyborg 
and Helsingfors, and everywhere he was in touch with people 
who came to him out of Russia. 

One night somebody knocked three times on the door of 
his little cottage, which stood in a quiet yard surrounded by 
fir trees. After a short pause, two more knocks sounded. At 
this pre-arranged signal Lenin opened the door. On the thres 
hold stood a young worker in a black overcoat with the collar 
turned up. 

"Vladimir Ilyitch, it is I, Badayev! I ve brought you some 
guests," he said, holding out his hand. 

"I m very glad, comrade, * Lenin replied. "Come in." 

Three sailors and a young priest with wide and dreaming 



128 LENIN 

eyes entered the room. When they were all seated, Badayev 
introduced his companions. 

"Comrades Dybienko, Zheleznyakov and Shustov were 
sailors on the cruiser Potemkin, which raised the revolu 
tionary flag." 

"Welcome, comrades/ 5 cried Lenin heartily. "The prole 
tariat will never forget your deed, for it was the germ of revo 
lution to spread all over the fleet. Tell me the whole story." 

The sailors told a long story of their adventures until the 
point where they were disarmed in a Roumanian harbor. 
Then Dybienko took up the tale. 

"We escaped from Roumania," he concluded, "and hunted 
for you everywhere. You must tell us what we are to do now." 

Lenin replied at once. "You will go abroad and from there 
direct the activities of the comrades still serving in the fleet." 

"We know them all, in Sevastopol, Odessa and Kronstadt," 
interjected Shustov, 

"That s just what I was hoping. We will spread our papers 
and pamphlets amongst them until they are ready to join our 
ranks." 

"They will! Like one man!" exclaimed the sailors. "But 
first they will kill the officers who ill-treat them." 

Lenin raised his head and looked searchingly at his visitors. 
He smiled in a kindly way as though he were dealing with 
children. 

"The officers will appear before your court, comrades," he 
observed. 

"Well play with them in our own fashion," they muttered. 

"You may. Your verdict will in no case be reversed." 

The sailors took counsel among themselves in a whisper, 
and then, having obtained from Lenin a letter of instructions, 
they left the house. 

Badaiev remained. He glanced towards the priest and re 
marked, "Father Gapon. He led the workers to the Winter 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 129 

Palace when they demanded that the Czar should dismiss his 
corrupt Ministers and grant the Constitution." 

Lenin did not reply. His set face and narrowed eyes be 
trayed his anger. For a time he was silent, examining the 
priest from head to foot. 

"When I first heard of you, Father Gapon," he remarked 
at length, "I took you for a secret agent, a degraded provoca 
teur, leading a mob of foolish workers up to the rifles of the 
Guards. . . ." 

Gapon shuddered, and crossed his hands on his breast, look 
ing as though hypnotized by the watchful eyes of Lenin* 

". . . But now, when I see you, I have my doubts. You look 
like a man who did not know what he was doing. You 
pleaded with the Czar, you entreated the tyrant on your knees, 
and for what? You pleaded for what should be taken from 
him by force, for what should be cut out of his dead carcass 
like his heart and his eyes. Madman I Lunatic! Slave!" 

So saying, Lenin began walking quickly about the room, 
cracking his fingers, in a state of furious excitement. After a 
time he halted before the terrified priest. Fixing him with his 
sharp eyes he rapped out: 

"Well. Say something. Fm waiting." 

"Only people who have not seen my work can accuse me of 
treason/ quavered the priest. "And I ? For five years I have 
been an awakening spirit among the workers. I have strength 
ened their belief that God s kingdom on earth is at hand." 
He drew breath sharply, and continued, "I had a prophetic 
vision. I heard a voice saying, *Lo, the tyrant s heart has 
changed! Lead the people to Mm, that he may pour out his 
good will upon them. " 

"And he poured out a stream of lead from his rifles." 
Lenin laughed boisterously. "Your God does not know the 
Czar very well. He suggested to you a vile and criminal 
action. What are you going to do now?" 



I 3 o LENIN 

"I don t know," Gapon whispered miserably. "My mind is 
torn in two. 9 

"Then I ll tell you," said Lenin after a moment s delibera 
tion. "Go abroad, penetrate into the emigre families, into the 
tomes of rich and poor alike, and tell people what the Czar 
did to the crowd which came to ask his favor, with crosses 
and ikons. Tell them again and again, as though you were an 
Old Testament prophet, that the Czar and his defenders must 
be trampled underfoot by the toiling masses. Do you under 
stand?" 

"I do," the priest answered softly. 

"Then go. I must go with the comrade alone." 

When Lenin had shown Gapon to the door, and when he 
had listened for the click of the outer gate, he turned to 
Badayev enquiringly. 

"An agent?" 

"No," the other decided. 

Lenin shrugged his shoulders. "It s your affair," he said. 
"What are you going to do with him?" 

"He is ready to carry across the frontier anything we en 
trust him with weapons, bombs, illegal documents. Nobody 
will pay any attention to a priest." 

Lenin raised his hands in astonishment. "But who asked 
you to bring this man to me?" 

"Don t worry about that," replied Badayev. "A brave and 
reliable comrade Malinovski." 

"Malinovski? Malinovski? I remember. Trotsky told 
me about him. He is to go into the Duma, with you and 
other candidates from the Party." 

"Vladimir Ilyitch!" Badayev exclaimed. "Do not insist upon 
that! I cannot criticize the Budget or propose amendments to 
the Bills. I am uneducated, and the parliamentary job is no 
joke." 

Lenin roared with laughter. Then he patted the man en 
couragingly on the shoulder. "Why should you fool about 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 131 

with the Budget or with Bills ? All you have to do is to enter 
the tribune as often as possible and repeat that the working 
class does not want any truck with bourgeois tricks of that sort. 
Tell them that the workers will pull down all the rotten insti 
tutions of the state, and blow the Czar, his Ministers and the 
bourgeoisie to pieces. Tell the Duma that if they offer 
resistance they will be hanged on lamp-posts. That s all you 
need know for the time being, my friend/ 

Badayev looked at the speaker in astonishment. 

"Is that all?" he asked doubtfully. "But the Duma will be 
full of Ministers, Generals and great landowners. Can we 
say that to them?" 

"Don t you think a gibbet will be strong enough for a 
Minister or a rich man?" 

* C I suppose it will be. But will they even listen to such a 
speech?" 

Lenin laughed again. "They certainly won t listen to a 
foolish speech from you about the Budget. But they ll cock 
their ears when you talk about a lamp-post and a piece of 
rope." 

Suddenly he stopped laughing, and assumed an air of furtive 
suspicion. 

"Gapon is a traitor bought by the Government," he said. 

"No," exclaimed Badayev. "He has been known in workers* 
circles for a long time." 

"Gapon is a hired traitor," repeated Lenin with conviction. 
"Tell Trotsky that. He should pass the word to the Menshevik 
and Social Revolutionary leaders. They ll square accounts with 
him. And today I must change my quarters. Ill let you know 
where I go to. Now leave me. I have a lot to do." 

Immediately Lenin moved to another house and awaited 
events. For some days none of the comrades heard any news 
of him, but in the meantime an old woman selling candies, 
apples and sunflower seeds was seated in front of Lenin s 
former residence. She scrutinized carefully all the passersby 



I3 2 LENIN 

and on the third day she noticed a young priest passing the 
house every now and then. He was clearly nervous, and he 
stopped occasionally to look into the yard through openings in 
the fence. When he moved on to the end of the street he 
stopped to talk with a smartly dressed man with a clean-shaven 
fleshy face and heavy sunken eyes. 

The old woman took up her basket and trudged through the 
town crying her wares. She stopped at a small cottage, and 
after looking round, cautiously slipped into the doorway. 

"Comrade Lenin/ she whispered. "Father Gapon is wander 
ing around your house, and with him is Ivan Manassevitch 
Manuilov, the secret agent of Witte." 

"Good, comrade Simon. Now find out where Gapon lives 
and inform Rutenberg." 

With these words Lenin closed the door. A few weeks went 
by, during which Lenin concealed himself in Perkarvi, 
Usikirka and Helsingfors. Then he came back to Kuokkala 
and to his old house where he found comrade Simon. 

"Well, how did it go?" he asked, shaking hands with the 
worker. 

"Gapon lived in Teriokl I traced him there and informed 
engineer Rutenberg. They came to the priest with two other 
comrades and handed him the warrant and the verdict. Then 
they tied him up and hanged him. The police found Gapon 
after he had been hanging for two days. On his chest was 
pinned the death sentence of the Social Revolutionaries." 

"The dog deserved a dog s death," grinned Lenin. "This 
Rutenberg is an excellent hangman as well as an engineer. 
He could be of use to us if he wants to join our Party." 

"He won t," replied Simon. "He s a friend of Savinkov 
and a sworn Social Revolutionary," 

"A pity!" Lenin sighed "I d send him to kill that revolu 
tionary jackass." 

"Which jackass?" 

"Boris Savinkov!" Lenin chuckled to himself. Then he 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

pointed to the ground. "Sooner or later I ll send him under 
ground." 

"Why?" 

"I don t know why/ barked Lenin, taking a book and sit 
ting near the window. 

After it had become apparent to everybody that the new 
Constitution was a betrayal, and that many alterations had 
already made it almost a dead letter, the Party began to de 
mand that Lenin should go abroad. The political police were 
on his trail and were drawing in around the hated leader of 
the working classes. 

His words to the comrades who came to see him off were; 
"You have come to the conclusion now that we have nothing 
in common with Czarism or with the bourgeois class and its 
rotten parliamentary system. Workers who lack either courage 
or independence, even they must come to the same conclusion 
in the end. But we shall get control of this country without 
their aid. We shall establish our laws and mete out our own 
justice. Nor shall we forget the workers who follow false 
prophets and treacherous leaders, so that they are not with the 
proletariat in the moment of victory. Go on organizing 
yourselves. Fill up your ranks and make preparations for the 
final battle!" 

His words were so outspoken that his audience hardly took 
in their importance. At the time, reaction was the order of 
the day. Military courts were set up all over the land and the 
Nationalists openly demanded the abolition of the Duma. 
They advocated the most severe repressive measures for the 
revolutionaries in order that the new vision of an awakened 
Russia should be dissipated once and for all. At such an hour, 
who could believe in the hopeful and courageous words of the 
departing leader? The comrades listened to him in doubtful 
mood. They hung their heads sadly. 

"We shall all be dead before then/ they replied. 



LENIN 



CHAPTER XII 

LENIN BECAME a different man when the train started on 
its journey and the comrades to whom he had spoken 
so encouragingly were left behind. He was filled with 
the bitterness of complete failure. His face was a tragic mask 
of hatred as he looked back upon his sterile labors in the last 
years. He hated Plekhanov, Struve, Bebel. He hated his 
earlier companions, Martov and Potresov. Above all he hated 
Trotsky. 

"I know what will please them/ he reflected bitterly. "The 
revolution has failed. The reactionaries are in power. They 
want me to shoot myself as the worst criminal of all, a traitor 
like Gapon, a monster sending others to certain death." 

He laughed maliciously at the thought, for he realized that 
even in the most desperate crisis the idea of suicide would 
never tempt him, though others might wish him out of the 
way. 

Lenin had no illusions about how matters stood. Russia lay 
inert and terrorized under the hard rule of the Prime Minister, 
Stolypin, and "Stolypin*s neckties" as the gallows were now 
called, were strangling his victims from end to end of the 
country. In Kuokkala and Teriorski Lenin met hundreds of 
workers, peasants, soldiers and members of the revolutionary 
intelligentsia. He talked with them and plumbed their minds 
until he knew even their unspoken thoughts. They were quite 
without hope. They were convinced that there could be no 
prospect of revolution for years to come, that the workers 
organizations were ruined, and that the Party should now 
revise its programme. They all agreed that now the most to be 
hoped for was to get the loyal* Social Democratic faction 
acknowledged in the Duma. 

Lenin boiled with anger and with hatred for his broken 
partisans. They were not his friends. He had no use for 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 135 

friendship. All he admitted was devotion for a common 
cause. He could unhesitatingly condemn and send to death 
even the most intimate of his companions who proved unneces 
sary or harmful to the movement. His companions felt this 
and so they shunned any closer connection with their leader. 
He lived now only for his ideal, no longer a man but a ma 
chine working with cold exactness upon the most complicated 
impulses of the human mind. 

Suddenly, Lenin recalled an incident that had happened at 
Kuokkala and once more anger surged up within him. For 
Khalainen, one of his most devoted disciples, had brought with 
him to Kuokkala some of the peasant deputies who represented 
Labor in the Duma. The visitors were ill at ease and even 
hostile in Lenin s presence. He welcomed them with a hope 
that they could all work together for one end, the complete 
alteration in the structure of Russia; but even as he spoke he 
knew the thoughts of the old peasant seated opposite him, 

"You don t deceive us so easily, my friend," the old man 
was saying to himself. We ve seen your type of rebel before, 
with a black coat and a stiff collar. You ll find that our ways 
are a bit different from yours." 

Despite his own mounting hostility, Lenin embarked upon 
an explanation of the whole revolutionary design, which aimed 
at the destruction of the bourgeois class. 

"The workers," he said, "will get into their own hands all 
the factories and banks. They will give you the land and the 
means of working it ploughs, reapers and tractors." 

The peasant interrupted him. "We can take the land for 
ourselves. There are millions of us. When we rise, who can 
stop us? The soldiers, our own sons? They won t shoot us 
down. But until we do rise, the land and the landlords can 
look after themselves/* 

"Very well!" exclaimed Lenin. "It will be the proletariat 
that will open up the new world for you by revolution, 
comrades." 



136 LENIN 

The peasant looked meaningly at Lenin s clean collar and at 
his white hands, unused to manual labor. 

"And the proletariat ?" he asked. "Does that mean the work 
ing class?" 

"What is your work, for instance?" the rugged old man 
went on. He stretched out a gnarled finger and touched 
Lenin s pale, soft hand. 

It was an unexpected turn to the conversation. The prophet 
and leader of the workers narrowed his eyes in anger, but he 
did not lose control of himself. 

"I work with my head," he answered mildly. "I am work 
ing for the happiness of Russia." 

The peasant received this reply without enthusiasm. "That s 
what the Czar might say," he observed sarcastically. "And the 
policeman." He glanced triumphantly at his friends, who 
were smiling as they stroked their beards. Then, suddenly 
galvanized into an intense energy, he began to harangue the 
Bolshevik leader, with many gestures of his toil-worn hands. 

"No, brother, we ve heard all this before only too often. 
What you must do is to follow the plough yourself, barefooted, 
in the rough clothes of a peasant. You must learn what our 
work is in flood and in frost, our family troubles, our fear of 
a bad harvest, our sufferings in famine and disease!" 

Lenin replied evasively: "But we are giving you a future 
better than that, comrades. We are at the head of your ranks, 
leading you on." 

The peasants exchanged knowing glances and the old man 
expressed their thoughts. "That s just it," he said. "You are 
leading us, but you have not asked us what we want to have." 

"We know what you want. But go on, let us hear it from 
your own lips." 

"What s the use of long speeches?" continued the peasant. 
"It comes to this. We don t want the Czar, because whenever 
he feels like a war he takes our people from the fields and 
loads us down with taxes. We don t want a monarchy at all. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

because while it exists people like you will be in a rebellion 
and we shall never know what peace is. But we can put up 

with the landlords and the gentry so long as we have axes and 
arson to use on them. Those are the facts. That Is our 
policy." 

Lenin s eyes lit up for a moment, but he checked himself 
and continued the argument with extreme good-nature. 

"You have left out of account the bourgeois class, the capital 
ists who buy your bread cheap and then sell their factory goods 
to you at high prices. Are you satisfied with them, comrades? 
Are you satisfied with the educated swine, the lawyers and so 
on, who get you into the clutches of the bourgeoisie so that 
they can skin you?" 

The peasants were silent for a moment, looking furtively at 
the revolutionary workers who agreed with Lenin. Then a 
peasant who had not spoken before, a tali and broad-shouldered 
fellow, took up the argument. 

"We ve heard all that before. It means nothing. It Is like 
a cuckoo s song." 

"A cuckoo s song?" exclaimed Khalainen with indignation. 

"Yes, a cuckoo s song," the peasant laughed. "You have 
nothing yourselves, neither house nor land, so you want other 
people s. Because you own nothing you claim to be the owners 
of everything. The bourgeois class give us ploughs, they grade 
the seeds, they breed cattle, they sell us reliable goods. We 
pay them because they give us what we want. The same thing 
goes on all over the world. But what can you do for us ? You 
do not know how to manage either industries or farms. You 
are Ignorant as a blacksmith, a locksmith or a carpenter Is not, 
though none of them are learned. And how can we manage 
without lawyers and their kind? Who will give us advice? 
You won t, anyhow." 

"We can help you to get back the land stolen by the Czar 
and the gentry," interrupted Lenin. 



138 LENIN 

There was a chorus of assent from the peasants. "That s 
more like it. We can accept your help there. 55 

"Good!" said Lenin. 

But the visitors were still smiling to themselves. 

"To tell you the truth/ muttered their old leader as though 
in explanation, "there is something to add so that we shall not 
quarrel later on. Well take the land back, but we shan t allow 
anybody to interfere with our business. The government will 
be ours; we will tolerate no rebellions and no wars." 

"What about the workers? 55 Khalainen burst out. "Do you 
think we can agree about that ? We can start a strike that will 
make things hot for you." 

Lenin quelled the comrade with an angry look. "We can 
try to reach a friendly understanding about that," he said. His 
voice was calm but his eyes betrayed him. 

The old peasant paid no attention to the remark. He stood 
up as if to go. 

"I can tell you at once what the land thinks about it. We 
know that rebellions and disturbances always come from the 
workers of the towns. So we shall get rid of the huge factories 
where thousands of your people gather together, and have only 
small factories, spread out all over Russia, one far from another. 
If no factory has more than one hundred workers we can 
manage them all. We shall have peace then. As it is we can t 
settle down to work at all." 

The workers in the room were furiously angry and started 
to curse the old man. 

"Filthy bourgeois," they cried, "you can t even read, yet you 
are dreaming of how to suppress the workers. That s the les 
son you have picked up from the flunkeys of the bourgeois 
class, from the Liberal scum! You are traitors, all of you!" 
The situation was growing ugly, for the peasants were fight 
ing men and they were prepared now to use fists instead of 
arguments. Some of them began to roll up their sleeves. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

Lenin saw that was coming. All lie could do was to end the 
conference as quickly as possible. 
"What s all this about, comrades?" He laughed easily, as 

though the whole affair was a joke. "Are you acting in a 
comedy ? Can t you see you re both in the right ? The peasant 
comrades are thinking of the land, which will be seized for 
them before anything else happens. The worker comrades are 
thinking of political power, which is quite right and natural. 
We must fight together. When we have broken the enemy s 
front we can come to a peaceful agreement on other matters. 
What s the use of cutting up the bear before we kill it?" 

There was still an air of hostility between the two camps. 
The workers and the peasants faced each other menacingly, 
but the peasants were satisfied for the moment. 

"An agreement, yes/ they said. "We are ready for one. 
But, first of all, we must have the land. 5 

No sooner had the deputation left than the workers turned 
upon Lenin, 

"What do you mean by negotiating with them? They are 
traitors against the revolution. What s the game? . . ." 

Lenin sprang from his chair and cowed the men with angry 
gestures. 

"Stop!" he shouted. "There are one hundred million peas 
ants. Do you know that? One hundred million! You fools! 
I am forced to negotiate with them. I must. The struggle 
with them, when it comes, will be much worse than the fight 
against the Czar and the bourgeois class. Can t you see it?" 

The workers were silent. They were all looking at Lenin s 
mad and contorted face. He saw what was passing through 
their minds, controlled himself with an effort, and even smiled. 

"I ll tell you one more thing/ he added. fi *When we pro 
claim the Social Revolution, the peasants will proclaim a bour 
geois revolution on the land." 

Although the meeting appeared to be a disastrous one, Lenin 
gained from it the satisfaction of being proved right. 



140 LENIN 

"I have not been mistaken in a single point," he exclaimed, 
as he walked up and down the room when it was all over. 
"As a boy I saw it all among the Volga peasants. As a man 
I confirmed my ideas in Siberia. It is an unshakable con 
clusion. Without the initiative and the leadership of the pro 
letariat, the peasantry is but a cipher in my revolution. It is 
only a cipher. But I will deal with them, even if I have to 
wipe out fifty million of them. They are just greedy slaves. 
I will control them with a bloody knout, with tyranny, with 
death. They will be the new slaves of the proletariat, until 
they learn their lesson and go with us arm in arm." 

He spat scornfully. At that moment he hated the lousy mob 
of ploughmen who barred his way. And yet the thought of 
battle elated him. 

When he left on his journey he was accompanied by 
Nadezhda Konstantynovna, silent as ever, but an obedient in 
strument in his hands, and a few young comrades of an alien 
race. 

"How is it, Vladimir Ilyitch," asked one of the comrades 
who came to see him off, "that your closest companions, 
Trotsky, Sverdlov, Yoffe, Zinovyev, Kamenev and Steklov are 
all Jews?" 

Lenin answered thoughtfully: "You know what the Russian 
people are. If you start them on the road of great achievement 
they begin to dream, to yearn for the soul of the Universe, and 
to plan the whole happiness of man. Then, if they drop a 
button, they fall at once into despair, weep by the waters of 
Babylon, beat their breasts and call upon Heaven to help them. 
It would be best to have Englishmen, Germans or Americans 
for what we want to do. Failing them, I use others who have 
no Russian blood in their veins." 

"But you are a Russian yourself, comrade. You are leading 
us now. Will you give up the struggle?" 

"What sort of a Russian am I ? Lenin asked, shrugging his 
shoulders. "My father was a Kalmuk of Astrakhan. My 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 141 

mother s name was Blank a foreign name. From the Kal- 
muks I get my boldness, iny lack of reverence for accepted 
things. I can destroy them. And then I have the courage to 
build up a new world upon the ruins of the old. 55 

He looked at the astonished comrade and stopped with a 
smile. 

"I m joking with you, my friend," he went on. "Would you 
call me a foreigner? I was born by the Volga and from my 
earliest years I have listened to the tales of Razin, Pugatchov 
and the rest of the freebooters. They were rebels, too." 

"That s better," exclaimed the worker. "You have relieved 
my doubts." 

"Have I? Good! Now Til tell you some more. I will 
never despair and I will never hesitate. Whatever we lose to 
day we will win back tomorrow. Because I believe that I am 
not like a Russian. And I believe that because in my youth 
I drove out of my heart all love of myself and all care for 
my own life. I care only for the victory of the Party and I 
will achieve it quickly. Don t worry about these men who 
help us because they are alien in blood. Do you bother your 
head whether a Russian or a foreigner makes your axes and 
saws? Of course you don t. And it does not matter whether 
a Russian, a Jew, a Pole, a Latvian or a negro gives us the 
Socialist State so long as he gives it to us." 

Lenin s first destination was Zurich where he stayed for a 
time, busying himself with the foundation of two newspapers 
at once out of the small sums sent from Russia by the scattered 
Party. His chief enemies now were the Mensheviks and he 
prepared to battle with them. He could not even ally himself 
with the comrades of western Europe, for they were bound 
by the democratic ideology. 

In Stuttgart, in 1907, he first tasted the European Social 
Democracy at the Congress of the Second International. Lenin 
proposed a motion that in the event of a European War all 
the Socialist parties in every country should provoke a civil war 



142 LENIN 

against capitalism by proclaiming the Social Revolution. In 
this he was supported only by Rosa Luxemburg, and his 
motion was rejected by a large majority. Bebel approved the 
basic idea of it but for tactical reasons he considered it inoppor 
tune at that moment. 

"Remember/ 5 shouted Lenin with an expression of scorn, 
"Within a few years you will either do what I tell you now or 
else pass over to the enemies of the proletariat." 

He put on his cap and began to leave the assembly, but the 
thought came to him that he had better see the meeting 
through. Otherwise the Congress would adopt some elastic 
formula that would be worse than none at all. So he remained 
with Zinoviev and Rosa Luxemburg, and put through an 
amendment obliging the Socialists to declare against war and 
capitalism. 

Next day, when he read the papers, he had to laugh aloud. 
The entire Socialist Press attacked him fiercely, calling him 
an anarchist, a Marat, a criminal and a madman obsessed by 
megalomania and personal ambition. 

"Fools!" he muttered. "Stupid fools!" 

But he stopped laughing when he took up the Russian 
Socialist newspapers conducted by Plekhanov. He became 
thoughtful and read every phrase, every word, with attention. 
Then he sat and meditated with closed eyes. 

"Have you read them?" he asked his wife, nodding to the 
heap of papers on the table, 

"Yes, I have. It is a wholesale attack upon you right along 
the line. 5 

"It is an attack," he agreed. "An attack that will end in 
their defeat. Meanwhile I have no use for European socialism. 
It is well-bred and well-trained, like a circus dog. Ill settle 
my accounts with it later on. A day will come for that. At 
present I must deal with the half-wits who follow Plekhanov 
like sheep. He knows what he is doing. So far he has not 
put his cards on the table. The others follow him blindly. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 143 

I can t wait any longer. I must open the eyes of the comrades 
in the Party and desecrate the Socialist ikons. I must settle 
this business." 

He picked up The Dawn and read aloud. 
"Look here!" he shouted. "They re calling me a Niechaiev! 
They don t know me yet although I have been working with 
them for so many years. What has he in common with me? 
Class hatred? Faith in our salvation by revolution? The 
strength to fight? Plekhanov, Kautsky, Bebel, Laf argue they 
all have their qualities. Even Chernov and Savinkov have! 
But Nyechaiev was a poor fool who attempted to carry out his 
mad schemes without a notion where they might lead Mm. 
I m not that type. I meditate for years upon all I do. I know 
every stone and every blade of grass on my way. I know 
every impulse of the Russian soul, which has until now been 
unknown to the whole world. That is the best proof that they 
don t understand me." 
Krupskaya laughed softly. 
"What are you thinking about?" asked Lenin. 
"Some time ago I read an article about you I forget who 
wrote it saying that you were the Jesuits best disciple and 
that in you were united all the faults and all the talents of 
Machiavelli, Talleyrand, Napoleon, Bismarck, Bakhunin, 
Blanquis and Nyechaiev." 

After the Congress, Lenin established a newspaper in 
Geneva, which was Plekhanov s stronghold, and there he car 
ried on his war against the Mensheviks. After attacking them 
with abuse and argument for some time, he finally wrote an 
article which astounded even Nadezhda Konstantynovna. In it 
he proved that the Mensheviks had sold themselves to the 
bourgeoisie* 

"You must not write like that," she protested. "It is an 
obvious calumny. Who will believe that Plekhanov, Deich 
and Tcheidze are corrupt?" 
Lenin only laughed. For once he looked at Nadezhda 



144 LENIN 

Konstantynovna with such profound scorn that she left the 
room depressed. 

The Socialists did not leave this accusation unnoticed. Lenin 
was summoned before a Party tribunal, where he appeared 
calm and nonchalant, although there was mockery in his eyes. 

When he was asked whether he intended to spread distrust 
of the Party at large among working people, he smiled and 
answered: 

"I used the words literally and I intended the workers to 
take them literally. I meant that you have been bought by 
the bourgeoisie." 

"But that is an abominable charge!" exclaimed one of the 
judges, jumping from his chair. 

Lenin surveyed the assembly indifferently. 

"When you fight an enemy," he observed, "you must use 
weapons which will inflame the mob. That is what I did." 

"But where are your moral principles?" a judge asked. 

"Who ever told you, comrade, that I had principles? Or 
that I believed in morality?" 

"Nevertheless, certain ethical principles go on unchanged . . ." 
began the judge. 

Lenin interrupted him fiercely. "Comrade, don t waste 
words and time. The ideas you mention don t exist for me. 
My only principle is the Revolution. My only morality is the 
Revolution. That is all. Ways and means don t matter so 
long as they are successful." 

"Even forgery or borrowing from the police?" a youth in 
the body of die hall cried out. "What s your reply to that, 
Comrade Lenin?" 

"Even that," Lenin answered indulgently, as though to a 
child. "If you have an engraving of a banknote I will print 
from it for the sake of the Party and the Revolution. Or if 
you happen to know a policeman who has money for my paper 
The Proletarian, it will be very welcome." 
In the clamour that followed, Lenin s voice was heard: 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 145 

"Comrades, I have no more to say. I am going. I declare now 
that your verdict will not tie my hands. I will obey only the 
needs of the Revolution and the orders of the Bolshevik Party 
they are the true Socialists. I will have nothing to do with 
the lackeys who ingratiate themselves with Liberal forgers and 
democratic blackmailers." 

From that moment his enemies in Geneva did their best to 
harm him on all occasions. When at last he found that no 
printer would bring out his paper he decided that it would be 
better to move on to Paris, where he lived in poverty with his 
wife. In Russia all the comrades were hiding themselves or 
surrendering to the inertia of the period. The Socialists were 
giving up their convictions, or joining the loyal Liberals, 
lamenting the hopes that were past and declaring that the 
Russian revolution would probably never come. Only from 
distant Paris came a solitary but powerful voice: 

"Do not be deceived! Our Revolution is in being, although 
Mensheviks and other traitors call it a chaos. We have sur 
vived and we are still in revolt, not because the October Mani 
festo was proclaimed, not because the bourgeois class began to 
protest against rotten forms of Government, but because an 
armed rising did in fact break out in Moscow and for one 
month the Council of Workers Delegates appeared in St. 
Petersburg as a morning star to the proletariat of the world. 
It will never fade. The revolutionary fury will soon revive. 
The Councils of Workers* Delegates will be restored and they 
will conquer." 

For some, these bold and hopeful words were the last echoes 
of a dying storm. For others, they were a kind of fireworks 
display, startling at first but harmless. For others again (and 
they were now not many), the words of Lenin were a Gospel 
of hope to encourage the persecuted followers of a young 
Faith, 

Meanwhile, however, the broken Party was unable to supply 
its leader and prophet with sufficient funds to keep his wife. 



146 LENIN 

Zinovyev and Kamenev. Yet what money they did receive was 
spent on a papef called The Social Democrat, in which the 
atmosphere was prepared for the moment when the Red flag 
would be raised once more. 

Those were years of starvation and utter misery. Lenin, 
living on black coffee and stalej^read, passed entire days at 
the Bibliotheque Nationale, where he prepared a series of new 
books which would later become the inspiration of the revolu 
tionary proletariat. He paid no more heed to the attacks of 
the Socialists from their various camps. He worked on in 
devoted and concentrated faith. Even his own wife sometimes 
questioned whether the working classes could ever achieve the 
power that he sought for them; and that was an argument 
which he would take up keenly. 

The Mongol Lenin would stand with head out-thrust like 
some beast of prey, his eyes alert, his ears tuned to the whole 
world. 

"The Great War is inevitable," he would declare. "I feel 
it coming in every fibre of my soul. I hear the rumble of the 
guns, and the tramp of men. Then our time will come. That 
will be the hour of our battle and of our victory." 

Pale and ill, starved and in ragged clothes, he went day by 
day to the Library, where his feverish energy betrayed a fear 
that the war would come before he was prepared for it. He, 
a poor emigrant, had his work to do, collecting and preparing 
the weapons which would destroy the enemy s citadel. 

But after years of heavy oppression the conscience of Russia 
began to awaken once more. Near the Lena, in Siberia, the 
exploitation of the capitalists caused a revolt among the work 
ers in the goldfields. Defenseless men were shot down by the 
gendarmes, but before the echoes of their shots had died away 
there was an outcry in the factories, among the intelligentsia, 
in the Duma, and in the press, both Russian and foreign. 

The Government drew back a step, and at once the Revolu 
tionary elements raised their heads. In St. Petersburg and in 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 147 

Moscow extremist papers. Truth and Thought, took advantage 
of every loophole in the law. Lenin himself poured out a 
flood of articles. 

He raised again the old hopes in the possibility of the Social 
Revolution. He derided the parliamentary system, he accused 
the European Socialists and the Social Democrats of bourgeois 
loyalty, he declared that only the Russian revolutionary prole 
tariat was strong enough to destroy the old and to build up 
the new* 

In this period of revival the Party demanded that Lenin 
should live near the Russian frontier, because his advice and 
leadership were constantly wanted. Leaving Paris, therefore, 
he came to Prague, where comrades from St. Petersburg and 
Moscow called on him daily. At once his relations with Russia 
were strengthened. He united and enlarged the Party, and in 
a paper called Truth, which he managed, he published articles 
on every conceivable subject. Not the least of his activities was 
the preparation of speeches for Malinovski, the boldest man 
among the delegates at the Duma. And when Lenin found 
that Malinovski was an agent provocateur he continued to 
use him under a threat of instant death. 

Lenin was possessed now of an indomitable strength. He 
neither ate nor slept. He could spare no time for himself, but 
received visitors in conference, worked at his desk, and des 
patched letters and circulars to all parts of the world. He was 
a leader again. He was preparing the Party for great deeds 
because he believed that the long-expected hour was at hand. 



LENIN 



CHAPTER XIII 

LENIN WAS walking from Zakopane to his cottage at 
Poronin, a neighbouring village. He had come there 
with his wife and Zinovyev from Cracow in order to 
be nearer to the Russian frontier. Every day he walked from 
Poronin to the postoflke or to Zakopane where a few friends 
of his, both Poles and Russians, were living. There came to 
him also by various routes (usually across "the green frontier" 
as the smugglers track was called) the revolutionaries of the 
Bolshevik Party to take counsel with their leader. When he 
had given them instructions, they returned again with his 
articles and pamphlets sewn into their coats, their caps and 
their boots, to spread them broadcast over Russia. 

As he trudged along with his stick he drank into his lungs 
the fresh air of the mountains, invigorating after the storm, 
the distant rumbling of which could still be heard. He had 
a few kilometres to travel and he thought for a moment that 
he might borrow a bicycle from a Russian, Vigilov, whose 
cottage lay on his way, but the idea faded from his mind as he 
fell into meditation on the events that were taking place 
around him. 

He remembered the inspired words of a Polish poet, thank 
ing him for a work unique in history : he, above all others, was 
leading the human spirit along the path of progress. He smiled 
cunningly to himself and muttered: "I will shake the entire 
world by promising freedom to oppressed nations." 

His thoughts ranged further afield, examining at every 
point the battlefield of his life and noting the disposition of all 
its forces. Any other man would have sunk into despair, for 
around him there were only appalling difficulties with which 
he had to contend. The European War, which he had fore 
told some years before, had already broken out. He reviewed 
the position with a critical appreciation of the fact that all the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

resources of the European nations were now concentrated for 
a final settling of accounts. 

"Now the imperialistic beasts of prey will slaughter each 
other," he reflected. The idea amused him and he laughed 
aloud. 

Then his mind turned to Russia. A wave of patriotism, 
artificially supported by the press and the government, was 
sweeping over the country, so that the revolutionary parties 
were forced either to keep silence or to hide themselves like 
rats. 

Lenin knew also that the Socialists of Germany and France 
looked upon him as a madman and a fanatic in his belief in 
the social revolution. The Mensheviks, headed by Plekhanov, 
Martov, Dan and Axelrod, were trying to foster division be 
tween their followers and the Bolsheviks by a furious cam 
paign against Lenin s "anarchism"; while Trotsky, Yoffe and 
Yuritsky were attempting to reconcile the two wings. Within 
the very organization built up by Lenin there was dissension 
over policy. Capable men like Lozovsky, Volsky, Bohdanov, 
Lunacharsky and Alexinsky, attacked the Bolshevik center di 
rected by Lenin, Krupskaya, Kamenev and Zinovyev. It seemed 
at that moment that everybody had passed over to the camp 
of the enemy. Lenin asked himself who now remained in his 
ranks: only three faithful companions who might be hesitating 
at that moment to make a fateful decision. In addition, there 
were a few small groups of workers, like islands in a stormy 
sea. Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg, Clara Zetkin ... at any 
rate these would not betray the cause or forget the watchwords 
of the Party. But what direction would the mass of the work 
ers take: those few millions organized by the Second Inter 
national and directed by veteran leaders such as Kautsky, Bebel, 
Plekhanov, Vandervelde, Vaillant, Scheidemann, Lazzari? 
Would this mass, so led astray, heed in the end the call of the 
revolutionary conscience and of common sense? 

Lenin stopped and thought hard. No," he decided. "I 



I50 LENIN 

shall not find allies in the West." He laughed and gave a 
long whistle. "What then?" he asked of the darkness, "What 
then ? Shall I bend my head in humility, wait for better times, 
and be silent?" 

His laughter grew louder and more mocking. In his mind s 
eye he looked out over the whole earth from the high moun 
tain pass to which the Polish poet led him. He saw it as he 
had known it through many years of brooding sorrow and of 
bitter hatred. It was a world full of weeping and gnashing of 
teeth. Through innumerable centuries, from the days of the 
proud emperors seated on the thrones of Assyria and Baby 
lonia, from the days of the mysterious priest-kings, the sons 
of the Egyptian Ra, the Sun, from the divine rulers of China 
and on without end, through epochs and dynasties, under con 
querors,, sages and saints ... it was a world of perpetual and 
bloody oppression, of helpless myriads crushed down by a 
handful of the powerful, the learned and the well-armed. 

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" The mountains looked down upon a lonely 
man clad in a shiny suit and broken shoes whose harsh 
laughter echoed up to them. 

"Here is my army!" he cried aloud. "My ranks are made 
up of the men and women who have no rights left to them 
except the right to be miserable, to cry out in their despair and 
to grind their teeth in hatred. I am the chosen leader of the 
illiterate, the sorrowful and the oppressed against the first vol 
ley of their enemies. After them will come those who have 
learned to suffer in silence. I will use their cold, unfeeling 
hatred and conquer at their head!" 

He smiled softly, almost mildly, as he was wont to do when 
he knew that he had arranged his plans down to the last de 
tail and was sure of success. He went on his way after glancing 
indifferently across the starry sky, which was alien and uninter 
esting to him because it was distant and intangible. Then he 
took in the ground about him, the dark wall of the mountains, 
and the windows of the cottages shining on both sides of the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 151 

road. He could feel the earth with his whole being, his pulse 
ran with the vibration of the planet, with the rustling and the 
whispering that rose up from the fields, the forests and the 
cottages of the poor. All this he understood. His tranquil 

thoughts and the quiet joy of his heart were in communion 
with the material world. Strange indeed is the inscrutable 
ordering of human events by the eternal mind ! At that mo 
ment a lonely man walked along a sandy road between far 
mountain villages, but within his powerful domed skull he 
held an idea that would soon shake the world. As though he 
did not exist, the old currents of daily life, of rulership in the 
palaces, of finance in the banking houses, of faith at the shrines, 
of knowledge in the rooms of scholars, flowed in their age 
long course. No one dreamed that in the quiet places of the 
Tatras there breathed a man who could proclaim himself a 
Messiah for all the races of the world, a Christ or an anti- 
Christ. Men and women followed their old paths to the grave, 
no longer with faith, no longer with hope. They did not hear 
the footfall of this Mongol with compressed lips and hate-filled 
eyes who possessed the power of indomitable will, 

As Lenin neared Poronin he saw a lonely figure on the road. 
He went on warily until he saw that it was a young man with 
a fine, spiritualized face and the shining eyes of an enthusiast. 
And when they had passed one another the young man spoke. 

"I beg your pardon," he called back softly. "Have I the pleas 
ure of meeting Comrade Vladimir Ilyitch Ulyanov Lenin?" 

The Russian halted suspiciously, turning round upon the 
stranger, and ready to defend himself. 

"I am Lenin," he replied shortly. 

"I have been sent to you, comrade. I came from Russia to 
day. I am a member of the Central Committee of Russian 
Revolutionaries. My name is Selaninov, Michael Pavlovitch 
Selaninov my Party alias is Murometz. You see, I trust you 
entirely. May I ask you, on your side, to trust me, comrade?" 

Lenin stood on his guard and was silent. 



152 LENIN 

The stranger smiled slightly and added: "I have.no weapons 
on me. You can search me if you like. I have not come to 
attack you but to have a serious and final discussion." 

Lenin nodded. "We are quite near my home/ 5 he said. 
" Would you like to drop in?" 

"I prefer to talk with you here. In your own home you are 
not alone." 

Lenin shrugged his shoulders. "Just as you like. Shall we 
sit down?" 

They sat upon a heap of stones, but for some time neither of 
them would speak. Finally, Lenin raised his head and looked 
enquiringly at the youth. 

"Just a moment, please," said the latter, answering the un 
spoken question. "I have some things to ask you and some 
demands to make. I want to express myself quite clearly." 

"Demands?" repeated Lenin sharply. At that moment he 
saw clearly why the delegate had been sent to him. But im 
mediately Selaninov asked his first question. 

"Do you intend to start the revolutiorf during the war?" 

"Yes, I do." 

"Do you intend to give all political power into the hands of 
the working class?" 

"Yes, I do." 

"Do you intend to give power to the submerged proletariat 
over the peasant class?" 

"Yes, I do. You ought to know that already, for in my arti 
cles I have often described the full revolutionary programme 
of our Party." 

"We do know it," replied the youth. 

"And for that very reason I have been sent by my Party to 
come to an understanding with you, comrade." 

* < What do you want?" 

"We propose to ally ourselves with you along the whole revo 
lutionary front . , ." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 153 

. . . "Along the whole front?" Lenin s voice had a mocking 
note. "Have I heard you correctly?" 

"Yes," replied Sclaninov. "But only until the moment when 
the victory of the revolution is achieved." 

"But that is comic!" laughed Lenin. "Would you mind ex 
plaining to me the whole of your curious proposal?" 

"That is why I am here," replied the young man in all seri 
ousness. "The Central Committee of the Social Revolution 
aries will collaborate with you until the moment when the 
dynasty is overthrown, the monarchy abolished, and the land 
expropriated. It will help you in regulating the conditions 
of the working proletariat but it demands that you will not 
interfere with its policy for the peasant class, which has its own 
ideals and traditions." 

"The traditions of the small bourgeoisie, who are much 
worse than the big," Lenin interrupted heatedly. "The peas 
ants are illiterate and passive." 

Selaninov looked straight into Lenin s burning eyes and re 
peatedly firmly: "The peasantry has its own ideals and class 
traditions. Our Party has the means to make of those hundred 
millions of people the most powerful social class to guide the 
future of Russia." 

"I know what you want," said Lenin. "You want a revolt 
of the peasants and the small bourgeoisie. You want us to shed 
our blood for the sake of a new slavery which may be much 
heavier and more difficult to throw off." 

"We will help you to obtain the rule of justice!" exclaimed 
Selaninov, 

"No!" cried Lenin. "Justice will rule only when we estab 
lish it, we, the working proletariat!" 

"Then you will perish!" whispered the youth. "Sooner or 
later the elemental power of the people of the earth will sweep 
you away like dry leaves from a soil not theirs." 

"An extremely poetic simile, but not in the least convincing," 
Lenin sneered openly. 6C We can cope with one hundred mil- 



154 LENIN 

lions o illiterate land-grabbers. Est modus in rebus, comrade," 

"A difficult task," smiled Selaninov. "You have not finished 
your Latin quotation, Vladimir Ilyitch, or perhaps you do not 
know how it ends. The Roman poet went on: sunt certi 
denique fines, quod ultra citraquc ncquit consistcrc rectum! 
What prevails in the end is a love of the soil that has been 
drenched with your own sweat, comrade. We will surrender 
our soil to nobody. I speak of that Russian soil, ploughed and 
harrowed by countless generations of our ancestors." 

Lenin took him up angrily, "As for us, we will divide those 
hundred millions of yours into three or four wings to fight 
against one another. The great maxim of government is 
divide et impera" 

"You will perish/ repeated Selaninov emphatically. 

"We shall succeed all along the line. Our social revolution 
will triumph!" 

"You will perish!" The voice of the young man was like an 
insistent echo. 

"We shall win!" 

"So you don t accept our help on our terms?" 

"No! A thousand times, no!" shouted Lenin, striking his 
stick upon the ground; it broke in his hand, and the ironshod 
point was left sticking upright in the sand. 

"Such will be your fate," observed Selaninov. "Your weapons 
will break and the earth will cover them." 

"I don t play at magic, comrade," retorted Lenin indignantly. 

"Nevertheless, remember what has happened to your stick, 
and remember my words." 

"Don t pretend to be a prophet or a wizard," Lenin replied 
with irritation in his voice. Then he added, "Give your com 
rades my message. Because they have tried to turn me aside 
from my aims, our Party will string them up. That is what 
I wish you and Chernov and Savinkov with all my heart." 

Lenin turned away and walked towards his home. As he 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 155 

went he heard behind him the ringing voice of the young man: 
"You will perish! You and your Party will perish!" 

But Lenin was not depressed by the prophecy. "They are 
afraid of me" he thought. "That is why they send me tempt 
ers. Selaninov s visit is a triumph for me." 

At his home he found nearly all the comrades and the emis 
saries who had just come secretly from Russia. The room 
was full of tobacco smoke and loud with the angry voices of 
an excited discussion. As soon as he arrived they rushed for 
ward and surrounded him, all speaking at once. 

"Have you seen today s Vorwaerts, Ilyitch ? We have been 
defeated ! The German Social Democrats have decided to vote 
the War credits through. Liebknecht alone will protest in the 
Reichstag. No one will support him. It is a calamity, a trea 
son. The German comrades despise the Stuttgart Resolution, 
which was confirmed at the Bale Congress!" 

Lenin forced his way through the comrades surrounding 
him, snatched the copy of Vartuaerts out of someone s hand, 
and read the report of the debate in the German Reichstag. 
He grew terribly pale. He rubbed his forehead, now covered 
with perspiration, and looked stonily at his friends. At last 
his face changed and he said with a chuckle: 

"It can t be true, that s all The Nationalists must have pub 
lished a forged copy of Vorwaerts. These imperialist sharks 
are capable of anything." 

For a long time they sat up to discuss this unpleasant news 
until, just before midnight, a telegram from Berlin was de 
livered to Lenin. It was from Clara Apfelbatim. When he 
had read the brief message, Lenin sat for a moment inert and 
breathing heavily as though his strength had left him. There 
was no longer any doubt about the news. The parliamentary 
Socialists of Germany, France and England had decided to 
vote the war credits. 

Dead silence fell upon the room. Everybody was watching 
Lenin s face which took on a hue of livid yellow and an ex- 



156 LENIN 

pression of the deepest dejection. The piercing eyes were 
opened wide, the lips were compressed convulsively, the 
prominent muscles of his jaws and neck moved in a silent 
rhythm. The Mongol face, a personification of hatred and 
fury, loomed out of the darkness, while his fingers unceas 
ingly moved here and there, plucking at his thin beard. 

At last he stood up abruptly and spoke: 

"The Second International is dead!" 

The assembly was astonished. It was a blasphemy to speak 
in that way about the powerful organization which covered 
with its ramifications both the old and the new worlds. But 
their astonishment was even greater when their leader and 
teacher continued: 

"We still hold the trump card. We will establish the Third 
International. That won t betray the proletariat. That won t 
stab the Social Revolution in the back. We shall be the makers 
of it. And now, good-night, comrades. I must write." 

For a time he sat at the table lost in thought. Then he took 
up his pen and wrote till dawn, hurling terrible accusations 
and abuse at the betrayers of the working class. He invited 
the workers of all nations to protest against these compromises, 
these slaves of capital, these base cowards. He held aloft the 
red flag of revolt and his slogan was, "We must create a new 
International for the final and victorious struggle of the op 
pressed against their oppressors/ 

For some days, almost without a pause to eat or sleep, he 
worked on, writing a Communist manifesto against the War, 
sending letters to all parts of the world, stirring up consciences, 
calling for action, and anathematizing those leaders who, ad 
mired only yesterday, were now become traitors to the cause 
and enemies of the working masses. 

Suddenly one evening, while he was in the midst of these 
labors, Austrian police and a military patrol forced their way 
into his cottage. Somebody in the village had laid information 
against the mysterious Russian as a spy. Lenin s rooms were 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 157 

searched. He himself was arrested and sent to the gaol in 

Nowy Sacz. More important thoughts absorbed him than the 
possibilities of personal danger, but in fact his position was 

now a perilous one. The Austrian military courts did not en 
quire too closely into the facts when an accusation of espionage 
had been made. It was well known that, at the beginning of 
the war, arrests were made on all sides every day of the week 
and the innocent were shot with the guilt}". 

Knowing this, the Polish Socialists used every means within 
their power to have Lenin released at once from prison. They 
approached the leader of the Austrian Socialists^ Victor Adlcr, 
who had a long interview with the Prime Minister, Count 
Sturgkheim. He urged with warmth and eloquence that the 
imprisonment of the well-known agitator could not but arouse 
the anger of the Russian workers, who had taken up a passive 
or an antagonistic attitude towards the War. He pointed out 
the innumerable advantages of leaving Lenin free to work for 
an immediate revolution in Russia. 

Adler s arguments were taken to heart by the Minister, who 
heard now for the first time in his life of the Bolshevik Party 
and its programme. He passed on the information he had 
gained to the General Staff and to the German government. 
Immediately afterwards an order for the release of Vladimir 
Ulyanov Lenin came from Vienna. 

While these negotiations were being carried on, Lenin re 
mained, brooding profoundly, in his cell, which contained one 
other prisoner. This man also was a Russian, an ordinary 
landless peasant 3 who had come into Austria one year before 
in order to escape from starvation at home. He told his whole 
story to Lenin, adding that he had been arrested at the frontier 
while making his way back to Russia. When he was searched, 
they found on him a letter with a sketch-map of the military 
roads and a list of the Austrian regiments garrisoned near the 
Russian frontier. 

a Who gave you the letter ? w asked Lenin. 



158 LENIN 

"The steward* of the estate on which I worked as a farm 
hand/ replied the simple peasant. "He gave me the letter, to 
be delivered to a friend of his in Moscow. I didn t know what 
was in the letter and now they call me a spy!" 

Lenin avoided further conversation with the man. He had 
more important things to consider than the fate of an illiterate 
bumpkin; for in his own mind he was arranging the plan of 
a damaging attack upon the power of the second International. 
At last his work was complete down to the smallest detail 
and he set himself to listen again to the woes of the peasant, 
who lay stretched out upon his bunk. The poor devil must 
have felt an irresistible necessity to communicate to another 
the thoughts which troubled him. He talked incessantly, wan 
dering from one subject to another. 

At last the day came when he was taken by an escort to the 
tribunal. He returned in the evening, calm and curiously 
cheerful. His eyes shone with an unusual brightness, his fea 
tures were full of a real joy. 

"Well, what s your news?" Lenin asked indifferently. 

"It s all over," replied the peasant with a spontaneous smile. 

"So you re all right, are you? Have they set you free?" 

"Why, no." The peasant bent forward and whispered in a 
kind of triumph, "The verdict was death." 

Lenin shuddered and looked up in astonishment at the con 
demned man, upon whose sunburnt and furrowed face there 
was not the slightest fear or emotion. He stood erect and 
combed with his fingers the ruddy beard that fell upon his 
chest. He smiled and asked softly: 

"Do you believe in God? And in the Son of God?" 

"I know nothing of God," Lenin replied with a forced laugh. 
"Still, I can appreciate Jesus of Nazareth because he frightened 
both the powerful and the weak." 

"Nobody can know God. He must be felt. He is hidden 
deeply in you, brother, very deeply, and man s a powerful 
creature. It is difficult even for God to penetrate through his 



GOD OF THE GODLESS ! 59 

skull." He was thoughtful for a moment. *Then he added, 

"It s a good thing that you appreciate Christ. I value that." 

"Why?" asked Lenin, wondering inwardly why he con 
tinued to discuss ideas that would never enter his own head. 

"Because then you can feel the shining glory of God in the 
most miserable of men. The son of a poor virgin her neigh 
bours must have spoken evil of her and then, suddenly, the 
Son of God. Nobody knew why He was the Son of God. 
He Himself could not explain it, yet He Relieved it. Then 
others believed it, and now people have gone on believing it 
for whole centuries. That is all because every man is the Son 
of God and the brother of Christ." 

"And a Saviour to whom people pray when the priests tell 
them to," interrupted Lenin with an ugly laugh. 

"No, dear man, not at all. There was one Saviour. And 
do you know why?" 

"You speak like a scholarly monk/ Lenin jeered. 

"What sort of a scholarly monk am I?" asked the peasant, 
raising his arms. "After I lost my farm I was a tramp for 
many years. I stayed at monasteries to earn the bread I ate, 
and I liked to talk with the learned men." 

"So they were the fellows who taught you all this church 
talk?" 

The peasant shook his head. "No, not at all. I learned the 
truth from a hermit who lived in the forests by the Kama 
River." 

"Do you belong to a sort?" 

"No/ 5 said the peasant. "I sought long among them for 
truth, peace and consolation. I did not find any. They were 
all humbugs." 

"Of course!" exclaimed Lenin. "Still,, you have not told me 
why you consider Christ to be the real Son of God." 

The peasant sat on his berth, and leaning his head on his 
hand, replied, "Because He had the courage to create. It was 
a divine courage. He created truth in the midst of iniquity. 



160 LENIN 

He took his apostles from among poor men, peasants and 
fishermen. He raised the dead. He laid down the command 
ment, Judge not, that ye be not judged.* " 

"I don t understand," admitted Lenin, looking at his fellow 
with interest. 

"It s quite simple/ he replied, tapping Lenin s shoulder. 
"Listen! God is God, not because he remains in Heaven, 
Himself within Himself, an almighty, all-knowing, and im 
mortal Creator. Not at all. He is God because, together with 
Him, archangels, angels, wicked spirits and weak creatures 
carry in themselves power, wisdom and creation. Every one of 
them has his lot and his destiny, his term of years and his ap 
pointed work to do. Christ was the first one and the only one 
to understand this. He did not think that He alone worked, 
suffered, rejoiced and wept. He knew that every other man 
suffered even more and rejoiced even more than Himself, he- 
cause every other man was weaker than Himself. Christ un 
derstood and loved the whore Mary Magdalene, Martha, 
Judas, John the Apostle, and the Roman Emperor. His whole 
teaching was: Judge not. But he did not add, Look into 
the depths of every heart and soul. ** 

"Why didn t He?" asked Lenin. 

" Because the time was not yet," whispered the peasant ecstat 
ically. " Mankind had not atoned for Original Sin. Mankind 
had to pass along the via dolorosa trodden by Christ, our 
Saviour." 

As he listened to this strange being, Lenin was reminded of 
the old vagrant, Xenophon, He smiled softly to himself. His 
smile encouraged the peasant to talk even more loudly and 
with greater confidence. 

4 "We must pass through the reign of Anti-christ with all its 
temptations. By God s will he will appear on earth as a second 
Son of God. His coming will be preceded by crimes, rebel 
lions, plagues and wars. Then the peoples of the nations will 
give over their cijinities. They will join together for their 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 161 

defense like soldiers^ choosing leaders, forming companies^ 
banding together in regiments and armies. Such will endure. 
But those who have not listened to the words of the Saviour 
will plunge to destruction like the Gaderene swine, and the 
waters will close over them. And from those who survive will 
come the Holy City, the heavenly Jerusalem on earth." 

"In Holy Russia?" asked Lenin. 

"Oh, what does Russia matter when such events are at hand ? 
She is but a grain of sand on the shore, a drop in the sea. 
Russia may even perish, but we, the nation^ will spread the 
Truth among all nations. It is we who will give them the 
Truth!" 

"We!" laughed Lenin, "The Russian Truth? 15 

"And what else?" the peasant demanded. "Tell me, who 
else can give it to them? Other nations live in pride and pros 
perity, sure in their minds that they are equal in power with 
the angels of Heaven. But no! Only from our gloomy for 
ests, from our steppes, where earth meets heaven, from our 
smoky cottages, from our prisons, where innocent, ignorant 
men live in their chains only from our Russia will come forth 
the dazzling Truth! We only, the nation of the plough, of 
the hammer, and of iron fetters, have the courage of creation. 
We have room enough. Our strength is inexhaustible. But 
our opportunity is too little in our own land, We are workers 
of the world. Say but the word and we can construct a palace 
or a shrine such as the world has not seen before. 5 * 

He said no more but looked at Lenin fixedly; and after a 
time Lenin asked him, without mockery: 

"How can you expect the power of creation from illiterates 
who follow the plough and who live in hovels ?" 

"Do not fear, dear man! Not only the poor and the illiterate 
but also the holy and the wise tread our soil. They will teach 
us, have no doubt of that, God does not exist merely for the 
sake of miserable worms. He cares also for eagles with broad 
and powerful wings. One sun, God s truth, shines upon all." 



162 LENIN 

"I haven t seen even the dawn of such a sun, myself/ 5 Lenin 
muttered. 

"Maybe you have not. But others have, many a time. . . . 
Now I have seen it on the last day of my life, and I rejoice 
that it is so bright That is my good fortune." 

The peasant spoke no more. Lenin observed him carefully. 
Slowly he grew aware that here was the true picture of the 
Russian soul, desiring everything or nothing, possessed of a 
mystical belief that a Heavenly Jerusalem might be founded 
upon earth; full of a mysterious faith in Russia s mission as a 
nation; conscious of a great responsibility which made martyr 
dom something to be eagerly desired, not as a triumph of 
patriotism or as a satisfaction of personal pride, but as a sacri 
fice for humanity. The martyr would offer himself as a victim 
on the altar of divine truth for the sake of all men throughout 
the world and even in the most distant stars in the sky. 

The peasant did not touch the food that was brought in to 
him. He knelt with his face turned to the East and crossed 
himself. He prostrated himself ? striking with his forehead the 
planks of his bunk. Soon after midnight the door of the cell 
swung open. A warder and a soldier took the peasant away. 
He went with them, silent, composed, unafraid. 

For a long time Lenin listened for his return, but he did not 
come, and in the morning he learned that the sentence of death 
had been carried out. 

"You said, Judge no t ? " he burst out in fury. "But you your 
self have been judged and executed! Now I shall judge with 
out mercy or commiseration. I shall carry punishment with 
me in all the strength of hatred and of suffering!" 

The new day brought death to the illiterate boor who be 
lieved in the creation of the Heavenly City wherein men would 
not judge. And it brought freedom for the bold and proud 
man who burned with the desire to punish for the sake of 
vengeance. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 



CHAPTER XIV 



T" T ELL 

I - 1 It was a warm summer afternoon in 1915. 

JL A Lenin had just left his belongings in a mean part 
of Zurich and was standing on the shores of the lake, watch- 
ing the passersby. He was surveying with contemptuous 
hatred the throng of well-dressed women, men in whites, and 
happy children, when a tall, athletic man, an American, dressed 
in a light suit and a soft hat, called out to him in welcome. 

"Hello, Mr. Lenin!" he said, with a frank smile on his sun 
burnt and handsome face. He shook Lenin warmly by the 
hand, and his steel-gray eyes lit up as he slapped the Russian 
on the shoulder. 

"Well, are we going?" he asked, filling his pipe. 

"Yes," replied Lenin. "Today I have more time on my hands 
than usual, Mr. King." 

"I don t wonder you hesitate over my name, 9 * laughed the 
American. 

"I find it difficult to say, I admit. Some evil spirits must have 
suggested it to your forefathers. King! Can you imagine it 
from me?" 

The American laughed more heartily. "The old fellows did 
not foresee that their descendant would have such a revolution 
ary friend/* he chuckled. "Now let us go up to Utokulm." 

By the funicular railway they went up to the mountain top 
and then, from the verandah of the hotel, they looked over the 
landscape spread before them: at Zurich, a smudge of brown, 
like a molehill beside the blue lake, the green valley of Limtnat, 
the ranges of glacier-covered heights, the Juras, the mighty 
Jungfrau, Stockhorn, Rigi and Pilatus, with the Feldberg hardly 
visible through the mist; far off was the volcanic peak of He- 
gan, and the clouded mirror of the Lake of Thonne. They 
stood silent, spellbound by the master-work of Nature. 



164 LENIN 

"In the United States we caa hardly appreciate a view like 
this any more," said King at last, breaking the silence. "Every 
where the landscape is cut by railways, the horizon is hidden 
by the smoke o factories, pit-heads and power-stations. Every 
five years I come here to get away from the rush of American 
life. I used to bring my sons with me they must learn to love 
Nature and to understand that her age-long energies are finer 
than all the works of man." 

Lenin was smiling enigmatically. When the American was 
silent he said in a mocking tone: "And I, when I look at a 
view like this with all its peace and contentment, see over there 
beyond Thonne the bare plains of Russia, the unpeopled moun 
tains, the roads deep in mud along which my fellow-men drag 
themselves in chains. I see them now, bending under the 
Czar s knout, unfree, all of them, whether they are going to 
prison, to church, or to the tomb. If I had sons and brought 
them here, they would cry out with hatred: We want justice, 
we want revenge, we want to live a new life! " 

"Last night I thought over your ideas," replied the American 
seriously. "They made a big impression on me, and yet I de 
cided that you were a dreamer after all. You want a Utopia. 
You might as well try to jump from Utokulm to Rigi" 

Lenin did not answer. He stood with his eyes fixed upon 
the Jungfrau, a dim outline seen through the soft haze. 

"Let s go up to the very top," suggested King. 

Lenin nodded absently. They took a narrow stony path 
through rocky gullies and among the shrubs which clung to 
the crevices and slopes of the mountain. Finally they reached 
the summit and sat down to rest upon some stones. Before 
them was the rugged chain of the Albis. 

"Yes," said King, continuing the discussion, after he had 
been gazing for a time at the light clouds that floated over 
their heads. "I thought about your idea of creating a machine- 
man and a machine-state. There is nothing in it. You will 
always have outstanding personalities to deal with, whom you 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 165 

cannot fit into the collective mechanism. If you try to control 

such people under a system they will destroy the system or 
change it, or alter its proportions, even though they don t in 
tend to. They act under the direction of the subconscious will, 
because they are people who stand out head and shoulders 
above the mob. ?> 

" Then the community will get rid of such heads," answered 
Lenin calmly. "It must do. Both the power and the right to 
rule belong to the essential majority." 

u But the head would be the head of a genius," 

"The mass of the people has a collective genius, and that is 
sufficient." 

King shrugged his shoulders. "History won t bear you out 
in that/ he retorted. "In fact, the genius is nearly always of 
a profoundly anarchic character. He does not surrender to the 
rule of the majority. He leads the mass of the people. He is 
not led by it." 

Lenin was silent. King looked at him and continued, <4 The 
epoch-making periods in the histories of nations are nothing 
but the biographies of geniuses in various departments." He 
drew at his pipe for a moment, and then added, "So far as 
material things are concerned, America has gone ahead of all 
other countries by putting herself in the hands of great per 
sonalities. We have whole dynasties of men with capabilities 
akin to genius. And remember that they came from the very 
lowest, most degraded social classes. That by itself is enough 
to destroy your argument, Mr. Lenin, when you say that only 
a permanent bourgeoisie oppresses the weaker members of the 
community. You don t seem to appreciate the ideas that may 
spring from the descendants of shepherds, pedlars, grocers, 
seamen or even confirmed criminals." 

Lenin raised his head and listened attentively. 

"They transform a desert into cotton fields/ King went on. 
"They prepare plans and specifications for great dams on the 
M ississippi and its tributaries. They find out that the fertility 



i65 LENIN 

of the soil may be increased by means of electricity at high 
voltages. They dream of replacing farm-labourers by tractors, 
and factory workers by electrical machines; and electricity can 
be generated in any quantity by waterfalls or rivers, by the 
wind or by the waves battering upon the coast. They are con 
vinced that before long they will no longer have to use the 
coal-mines where men of all races now work like slaves in the 
sweat of their brows and in continual danger of death. All 
that will give way to electricity, which supplies heat, light and 
power. There will be no need of the hordes of workers that 
exist today. Their drudgery will be a thing of the past. Elec 
tricity and chemistry will be the nurse and the servant of hu 
manity. Moreover, a friend of mine, a chemical engineer like 
myself, maintains that within fifty years chemistry will supply 
us with textiles for our suits, with synthetic food, and even, by 
the help of electricity and biology, with a magic panacea 
against death. Again, I have met an agricultural expert who 
has perfected a system of underground farming in case the 
surface of the earth grows cooler. Another man, a biologist, 
is trying to regulate the birth-rate of flies and to control the 
production of males and females, with the idea of creating 
geniuses artificially ... at present among insects and lizards." 

Lenin sat enchanted. His eyes, wide open, were filled with 
fire. He drank in every word. When the American saw how 
interested the Russian had become, he proceeded to further 
details. 

"There are other fields of practical knowledge in which in 
tensive work is also going on. In our selection of men we take 
care to acquire those who are most ready to accept and develop 
scientific doctrines and technical processes. We have formed 
an army of highly qualified workers whose professional abili 
ties are in complete harmony with their physiological and psy 
chological impulses. We are even considering the establish 
ment of a special bureau for the rational exploitation of time, 
so that not a single working moment shall be lost." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 167 

"Ah, but that is a brilliant conception!" exclaimed Lenin, 
foil o admiration. 

"Brilliant, but dangerous as well, old fellow/ 5 remarked 
King. "You will see what I mean by its being dangerous when 
you answer a few of my questions. Isn t there a risk that such 
experiments may produce a man of tremendous intellect who 
will subordinate everybody else to his will ? And what if his 
will is bent upon oppression? Again, isn t there a risk that 
the specialization of the most capable workers may create the 
nucleus of a new privileged type which may even widen the 
gulf between the social classes? It may lead in the end to 
conflict and revolution. And finally, what shall we do with 
the millions of ordinary workers, systematically dispossessed by 
machines both animate and inanimate : the living machines be 
ing specialists selected on the basis of strictly scientific tests ?" 

Lenin did not answer for a long time. His forehead was 
knit in concentration and his long, narrow eyelids trembled. 
"The rank and file must remain," he hissed at last. "The sur 
plus machine-men must be slaughtered, and the indispensable 
ones must be ruled with an iron hand. They must be com 
pelled by violence and terrorism to serve Society as a whole, 
which will control their produce and distribute it scientifi 
cally." 

The American laughed ironically. "Do you want to destroy 
a higher form of civilization for the sake of a passive and illit 
erate mob?" he asked. "Do you want to return to the old sys 
tem of economics?** 

"Not at all!" retorted Lenin excitedly. u The proletariat is 
extremely resourceful in the way of terrorism. It can compel 
the professional classes to take up progressive work with real 
energy. Besides that, the proletariat, not unlike an ant-hill, 
will produce a strictly-limited number of specialists of every 
description. That will be the next work to be undertaken by 
psychologists and biologists." 

King opened his eyes wide with astonishment. "Good God!" 



168 LENIN 

he shouted. "You have one foot in the Middle Ages, with all 
their violence and cruelty, and the other among the fantasies 
of centuries yet to come. You can t build for the present un 
less you build on the present." 

"We shall see!" 

"No, we won t see!" retorted the American. 

"The fear of death and a merciless ruler can work miracles, 
Mr. King." 

"Miracles? No! Crimes? Yes!" was the decisive answer. 
King said it indignantly. Then he got up and continued to 
speak, though without looking at Lenin. "I thought you were 
out for a revolution to shake a materialistic and bourgeois 
world, and to prepare for the reign of the spirit. I thought 
that and I was wrong. All you want is banditry on a world 
scale. It is a terrible conception!" 

"It is for you, Mr. King!" shouted Lenin, looking up with 
hatred at the powerful American. "It is for you, though you 
come to Switzerland for a rest every five years with your 
pockets stuffed full of dollars! But remember, there are only 
a million people like you in the whole world. The other 
seventeen hundred million haven t got a smart suit like yours. 
They haven t even got ten dollars for tomorrow. They are 
the ones who starve, Mr. King. Do you understand? They 
starve! We have a Russian proverb that says you can t feed 
a hungry nightingale even with the best of songs. And as for 
the spirit the man of dollars dares to tell me of the spirit!" 

He laughed with arrogance, his small black eyes fixed bale- 
fully upon the tanned and open face of the astonished Ameri 
can. There was no more argument possible. King turned on 
his heel and made his way down the mountain-path, leaving 
the Russian hunched up upon a boulder like some black and 
evil bird. 

The Russian gazed down upon the radiating valleys, the 
small squares of vineyard and field, the shining threads of 
steel railways, the grey specks of village, and hamlet, the crosses 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 169 

and cupolas of Zurich, the calm surface of the lake like a slab 
of lapis lazuli. He saw nothing. His eyes pierced the mists 

and clouds which gathered now upon the horizon until they 
beheld the poor fields of the Russian peasants the same fields, 
yet changed immeasurably. There, gigantic tractors rolled 
along, driven by electricity, replacing the labour of thousands 
of sweating men and of exhausted horses. Into the Russian 
heavens rose the smoke of numberless power-stations and of 
a myriad of factories. The windows of neat cottages shone 
brightly in the evening light, while well-dressed workers with 
clean hands and quiet faces were coining home to them with 
out haste or pleasure. They were all like one another, all of 
one type, in uniform clothing, wearing one expression and 
using the same gestures. Lenin understood that these figures 
born out of his imagination were machines endowed with 
harmonious movements and possessed of a terrible collective 
power, but deprived of passion. Suddenly the thought passed 
his mind, "Are these people happy?" And the answer came* 
"They are a quiet people." He did not hear the clank of 
chains, the moaning chorus of weary serfs, the whining argu 
ments of priests, the superstitious bells. In the squares of towns 
and villages where once churches stood there were now thea 
tres, museums and schools. Every sight and sound was gone 
that had once filled his soul with hatred. 

Suddenly he pulled himself together. A group of tourists 
passed by, talking loudly. He caught a broken sentence, "The 
Socialists proved to be good patriots after all. ..." So that 
was all his vision came to! He felt the uncompromising truth 
looking straight into his own dark and piercing eyes. 

He jumped up and hurried as quickly as he could down to 
the station so that he might be in Zurich as soon as possible. 
He wanted to write, he wanted to call upon humanity to fight 
for what had been taken away from it by the rich and power 
ful. He wanted to avenge the worn-out bodies of millions 
upon millions of men who worked by the sweat of their brow 



170 LENIN 

without rest or hope. "I bring you freedom," he whispered 
passionately to himself. "Follow me and the word of hope 
will become flesh." It was one of the crises in his life, his con 
firmation in hatred and in love. 

From that day he worked with even greater intensity, until 
he found himself tired and in need of a change. Moreover, 
he found it necessary to disappear for a time from the sight 
of the Swiss authorities, for on coming into the country he 
had signed an undertaking not to disturb the public peace, and 
although he had not disturbed it physically, his polemical arti 
cles, printed in the Socialist papers, irritated public opinion and 
aroused the suspicions of the government. He was watched 
at every step and he could not be sure how far the influence 
of Russia s political agents or of her Allies agents might ex 
tend. He decided to leave Switzerland and to accept an invi 
tation from Maxim Gorki, the Russian novelist, who was living 
at Capri. So, having made a secret arrangement with the 
Italian Socialists, Nitti and Serrati, he left Zurich by stealth. 

,He found Gorki ill and depressed. The gigantic, clumsy 
man, in whose face the coarse and blunt features contrasted 
strangely with the thoughtful, straightforward eyes, welcomed 
with enthusiasm his small and volatile friend, Vladimir Ilyitch. 
Lenin stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, examining 
the novelist with a critical eye and discussing his appearance 
half-aloud* 

"A bad business! A very bad business! Muddy complexion, 
heavy eyes, pale lips, not a spark of animation! What does it 
all mean ? Talent is so rare that it deserves very careful treat 
ment when it appears. Now here I go, talking and talking, 
while he just listens and eats like the cat in the fairy tale. Eat 
ing pills, too, though how he can stomach the things I don t 
know." 

The two men laughed together in friendship. 

They spent days after that in the boat of an old fisherman, 
Giovanni Spadaro, floating on the calm waters of the azure sea 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 171 

while they talked softly of everything and nothing as true 
Russians alone can do, threading together into one pattern a 
shifting variety of thoughts and impressions. Yet always some 
chance remark brought Lenin back to reality. Then Ms eyes 
set and the whole fine picture of white sailed boats on the 
sunlit sea against the rocks of Capri faded from his mind. He 
saw instead the comrades searching in a panic for their leader, 
or the mobs upon the streets in Russia, armed and angry for 
the attack. Then Gorki, almost in tears, spoke of Russia s terri 
ble defeats in the field and of the countless peasants falling 
before the German rifles. 

"Think of the tears now flowing in our villages," he said, 
wringing his hands. "Think of the despair in every cottage of 
our land!" 

Then Lenin looked at him with unsoftened eyes and an 
swered: "Let it be so. There are too many crowded together 
in those cottages. There are enough for a hundred wars. 
What now if famine comes to wipe them out? Revolution 
will swell up like a boil and burst when it is touched. The 
blood of our workers and peasants flows today but we will 
shed a sea of blood from the veins of our enemies and mur 
derers." 

The old fisherman, who was attracted by Lenin s cheery 
laugh, listened at such moments with foreboding to the muffled 
anger of his voice. 

"But that is terrible," protested Gorki. "A revolution made 
possible by a hecatomb of innocents! No! No!" 

Lenin repEed with his Mongol eyebrows sternly knit, "Only 
a fool fears to dirty his sword once he has it in his hand and 
knows a use for it! Believe me, Alexis Maximovitch, the revo 
lution cannot have too many victims. Remember, we are the 
sons of one rebellion. May our enemies help us to start another 
that will tower over the world like a wave of blood." 

"It is true! It is a terrible truth!" whispered the novelist. 

"Terrible!" laughed Lenin. "Is that a word for you to use, 



172 LENIN 

Maxim Gorki? you, who sprang from the lowest and most 
ignorant class in the community, you who are an expert on 
the soul of a homeless river-man, of a prostitute, of a peasant 
or worker in whose brain the thought of revolution is be 
ginning to simmer. Shame on you! We live in an Iron Age 
and our work is not to pat people on the head. Our hands 
must fall heavily, smashing men s skulls and pulping their 
bones without mercy." He paused for a moment and then 
continued, "Our supreme end is to finish with violence for 
ever. A difficult task! We can only accomplish it by means 
of violence and oppression. There is no other way, for man 
cannot produce ideals capable of realization once and for all. 
It took centuries of serfdom to create rebellion. It will take 
decades of a new oppression to produce a true liberty which 
will be a true equality." 

Gorki made no reply at alL He did not want to provoke 
the bitterness in the heart of his friend, who was speaking 
with such obvious conviction. The great novelist knew that 
Lenin was not addressing him, a giant of thoughts and emo 
tions, but the downtrodden mob which dreamt of equality. 

Soon afterwards Lenin had a letter from his wife Krapskaya, 
to inform him of a Socialist Congress which would shortly be 
held in Switzerland. Without a moment s delay he said fare 
well to Gorki and returned to Zurich. From there he went to 
Zimmerwald and to Kienthal where he argued fiercely with 
the leading Socialists of Europe. He fought them unscrupu 
lously, vilifying them, setting them in the pillory as the objects 
of abuse and derision, destroying their high reputations, and 
inflaming the anger of the rank and file against them. He ac 
cused them of treason and of cowardice. He cursed them pub 
licly. He distorted their words without the least compunction. 
At the same time he took care to make his own invective sim 
ple and clean-cut. His logic went home like a sword; and he 
repeated over and over again the main ideas of a speech. The 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 173 

audience had to accept his conclusions, for he gave them no 
choice. He spoke in a harsh, low voice, without a trace of 

pathos, but he accented it with the movements of his hands, 
of his head, of his entire body, with the expression of his face, 
In turn menacing, friendly and Ironical, or with the compel 
ling changes in his eyes. Step by step he fought his way 
through the ranks of his opponents, dispersing the leaders and 
winning the followers over to his side. 

Next he impressed upon his supporters the formula that the 
imperialistic war had to be transformed into a civil war against 
the governments of the day and the Capitalist system. Fear 
less of the accusation that he was betraying his country, he 
declared arrogantly that Russia might perish if only the Social 
Revolution were achieved; and In that crisis Lenin laid the 
foundations of the Third International. 

He had clarified in his mind the thoughts that came to him 
on the peaks of Utokulm, and now he drove them Into the 
minds of the Internationalists gathered around him, with "all 
the arts of oratory that he possessed, "Man is too stupid to be 
sufficient unto himself. It does not matter whether there are 
ten or a million of them, free fools can only be a herd. Democ 
racy and Liberty are the shameless catchwords or the stupid 
prejudices of the bourgeoisie. The best form of government 
for the human race Is an unhampered despotism, exercised not 
for the benefit of the oppressors but for the sake of the op 
pressed, and approved of by them." 

The men who listened to Lenin s words were the most miser- 
able of outcasts, men who had only bread to live on. Breath 
ing for revenge, inspired by hatred, their eyes shone and their 
fists were clenched as they repeated the words of this terrible 
gospel, "The unhampered despotism of the oppressed. 5 The 
prophet of violence for the sake of love was followed more 
and more by the disciples of rebellion, destruction, blood and 
madness. 



174 LENIN 

In 1917 came the thunderbolt. Suddenly the news spread 
along the shores of the blue lake of Zurich that the Revolution 
had broken out in Russia. 

"The Czar has abdicated." 

Lenin read the message and repeated again and again, 

"My day has come." 

At once he looked about for a way to reach Russia. There 
were difficulties on every side and moreover, after his speech 
at Zimmerwald, he knew that he would be in danger from 
the governments allied with Russia, or even from the agents 
of Russia herself. His best way was to go through Germany 
and Sweden. There was only one thing to do, and although 
he was well aware that he would be overwhelmed by accu 
sations of high treason, he accepted the risk for the sake of 
the Revolution. 

The Swiss Internationalists, Flatten, Pannekock and Hen- 
riette Roland-Holstein, communicated with Liebknecht, who 
obtained a permit for Lenin, Krupskaya, Zinovyev, Rakovsky 
and others to cross German territory, 

Lenin entered a German railway carriage on the Swiss fron 
tier to begin his journey, after reaching an understanding with 
foreign Socialists and with his own followers as to his policies. 
For he was still afraid that the comrades of the Party would 
disagree with his decision. To avert a rupture in the Party 
he invited the Internationalists of all countries to Berne to 
sign a protocol stating the aims and the conditions of the 
journey to be undertaken by Russian Communists through 
Germany. At the same time he addressed to the Swiss work 
ers a personal letter explaining his policy towards the Revo 
lution and expressing his abhorrence of all imperialistic gov 
ernments, including the governments of Germany and Austria. 

In Berlin, Scheidemann, Noske, Ledebour and other oppor 
tunists expressed a wish to meet the leader of the Russian prole 
tariat. But when Lenin heard this he jumped from his seat 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 175 

and shouted to Ms companions: "Tell the traitors that they 
may come in here if they want me to hit them!" 

He was pale and furious. No one of the German Socialists 
braved the anger of the little man with the broad shoulders 
and piercing Mongol eyes. 



CHAPTER XV 

VLADIMIR LENIN, alone and cautious, made journeys of 
exploration all over Petrograd, noting every detail, 
catching up broken scraps of conversation, reading the 
faces of the passersby. He was everywhere at once. He used 
to stand for hours in the long queues which besieged the 
grocer-shops and there he made cunning use of his oppor 
tunity to rouse discontent among the people. He mixed with 
visitors to the military hospitals where lay the broken soldiers 
carried home from the broken armies at the front. He talked 
with peasants who despaired of their crops, for the young men 
had been taken away and only the old were left upon the land. 
He prophesied an immediate famine. He reckoned the losses 
of the army at three million men, killed in defense of the 
rich and of the nobility. With working women calling on 
their wounded sons he spoke about the ideals and slogans of 
the Bolsheviks, and he filled the harassed women of the 
middle class with the story of a new German gun capable of 
wiping out whole regiments with gas-shells. Another of the 
rumors set about by him was that the High Command had 
been bribed by the enemy. 

"We Russians were not prepared for the war,* he declared. 
"We must put an end to the tyranny we suffer under. We 
must compel the Government to stop the war, or we shall be 
drowned in our own blood.** 



176 LENIN 

"Oh, what s to be done?" asked an old woman, wringing 
her hands. 

"There is only one thing to be done," whispered Lenin into 
her ear. "The whole nation must rise up and take power into 
its own hands. If you are oppressed, join us! We shall build 
up a new order and live under a reign of justice!" 

"But what if the people refuse to help?" she asked. 

"Then we must do it all ourselves after we make peace with 
the Germans. We have too much work to do at home to go 
on fighting with them*" 

"Yes, but when the Germans see Russia defeated they may 
rob us of our valuable provinces." 

Lenin brushed the objection away with impatience and 
hissed: "What does Russia matter to us? We must fend for 
ourselves!" 

"Ah, you traitor!" cried the old woman. "I know what you 
are now one of Lenin s gang! A follower of that thief!" 

A crowd collected around them at once. Lenin saw the 
danger of his position, and edging his way through them, he 
hid in the gateway of a neighboring house. But not long 
afterwards he was spreading among the soldiers loafing out 
side their barracks the rumor that the Provisional Govern 
ment was going to destroy the fruits of the Revolution by set 
ting up a new Czar. 

Within a few weeks Lenin knew all the cross-currents in 
Russian affairs. In the rooms of one of the comrades he 
walked up and down, discussed the whole situation, drew final 
conclusions, and rubbed his hands in satisfaction. 

"Tell our friend Zinovyev," he ordered Krupskaya, "to sum 
mon all the responsible comrades to a meeting. I must give 
them a plan of campaign." And that evening he addressed 
them in a voice that showed no sign of the excitement raging 
within him. 

"I have worked out our programme/* he said. "It is quite 
simple and it can t go wrong. We must have agitators every- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 177 

where, in the army, in the streets, in the Councils of Soldiers 
and Workers Delegates and in the factories. The army must 
be rotted from within otherwise the line regiments will 
slaughter us. Everywhere the cry must be raised that the 
Bolsheviks stand for an immediate peace that is the only way 
to attract the soldiers and the peasants. Whenever the Gov 
ernment and the loyal Socialists issue an order we must go way 
beyond it, demand more radical measures, and so paralyze 
their authority. That s all for the moment. We must con 
tinue to flood the towns with our papers, posters and leaflets, as 
we ve done up to now. We must organize fighting units and 
arm ourselves as quickly as possible. Remember, we must be 
ready to take full control of the situation at any moment." 

Just as a spider weaves its web between the branches of a 
tree, so Lenin threw out the invisible network of his plot, 
and his agents, directed by Trotsky, Kamenev, Zinovyev, Luna- 
charsky, Stiekiov and Bukharin, spread further and further the 
Bolshevik influence. But the man in whose name these things 
were done remained in the shadow, hidden from human eyes, 
a small, inscrutable Mongol, with sharp and steady eyes. He 
hid like a spider awaiting its victim, ready at any moment 
for a swift attack. 

He was the master of events. The bourgeois Ministers sur 
rendered their portfolios one after another, depressed and hope 
less. They were succeeded by a small lawyer of great ambi 
tions, Alexander Kerensky, who aspired to be a Napoleon 
while he pretended to be a follower of the Zimmerwald form 
ula. His efforts were in vain. Though he invited men of all 
types to join his Government, from a millionaire to a convict 
just released from prison, he could not satisfy the daily in 
creasing demands of the army and of the mob, whose idol 
he wanted to be* In his mad efforts to gain popularity he 
destroyed the army with Ms own hands, drove out experienced 
politicians, and prepared the way for the Bolsheviks. 

Rapacious Instincts awoke in the mob until there seemed 



178 LENIN 

no way to satisfy them. Then Kerensky flung down his last 
cards upon the table: the whole military command was given 
over to the Soldiers Council and capital punishment was abol 
ished even for the crimes of desertion and treason. 

Lenin was delighted when the news came to him. 

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "The demagogue is done for! We 
have him! The army will soon be on our side for now it is 
nothing but an armed, irresponsible mob." 

"But he has abolished the death penalty altogether," observed 
Krupskaya. "That may make him more popular." 

"Not a bit of it," laughed Lenin. "It is a sign that he has 
lost his grip. How can you afford to throw away a weapon 
like the death penalty during a Revolution? It shows weak 
ness, cowardice, stupidity. That is the very weapon well pick 
up first when the Party comes into the open." 

In the Councils of Soldiers and Workers Delegates an in 
creasingly bitter struggle went on between the Social Demo 
crats, the Peasants and the Bolsheviks, who would not allow 
the Councils to support the Government or its policies. Mean 
while famine and disorder spread over Russia. 

At last, one day in the beginning of July Lenin summoned 
the comrades to another meeting. 

"Now, comrades, shall we come out in the open, armed, and 
fight for power ?" he asked them in measured tones. "Are you 
ready?" 

A deep silence fell upon the room. Everybody knew that 
the words had been uttered that would decide the fate of the 
Revolution, of the Party and of the small group of the con 
spirators themselves. 

"Yes! Let us begin ! w 

It was a bold voice that rang out, the voice of Stalin, a Geor 
gian, and a man who had made his mark as an organizer of 
fighting units. But a number of protests were heard against 
a bold line of action, and after a protracted argument it was 
decided to postpone an armed rising for a time. They knew 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 

that the Council of Workers Delegates could still keep back 
the mob; at the front there were regiments faithful to the Gov 
ernment; and the provinces were not yet sufficiently saturated 
with Bolshevik propaganda. Moreover, the countryside, the 
puzzling Russian countryside where God ranged with the 
Devil, where martyred patience existed together with elemen 
tal passion, had not declared itself for either side. 

But the work of the agitators was not wasted, for the mobs 
in the cities, grown beyond the bounds of discipline and crazy 
with hunger, appeared on the streets with weapons in their 
hands. The Bolshevists immediately placed themselves at their 
head, but the attempt was a failure. The Government and 
the Council still had sufficient strength to quell the outbreak 
and to arrest the Bolshevik leaders; although "Alexander IV" 
(as Trotsky dubbed Kerensky when he took up his residence 
in the Winter Palace) did not have the satisfaction of imprison 
ing the man whose name was for him the writing on the wall. 
Lenin and Zinoviev disappeared utterly. Kerensky and the 
leaders of the Council, Ceretelli, Chernov and Savinkov, sought 
them in vain. An enormous reward was offered for the dis 
covery and arrest of these traitors but it went unclaimed; no 
one knew where the leader of the proletariat had taken refuge. 

Kerensky enjoyed a brief triumph which he used to make 
high-flown speeches and to create a dictatorship over Russia, 
until he found that his rival s articles appeared in the papers 
nearly every day as usual. Then he began to panic again, so 
that none knew from hour to hour what he would do next. 
He proposed a military dictatorship under General Kornilov; 
a day later he betrayed the General, proclaimed him an enemy 
of the country, and all but outlawed him. He declared a new 
offensive against the Germans and swore that Russia would 
honour her obligations to the Allies until victory came; but at 
the same rime he was demoralizing the army by intrigues and 
betrayals, and by Mattering the soldiers with lavish promises 
which he could not fulfill. He consulted with foreign govern- 



i8o LENIN 

ments about strengthening the front and at the same time con 
voked "the Democratic Council" which consisted entirely of 
notorious peace-mongers. He fulminated against every sign 
of rebellion and indiscipline without knowing that when his 
time came his would be defended only by cadets, by youths 
enraptured with his stale democratic phraseology, and by a 
battalion of women under the command of Madame Boch- 
karova. 

Kerensky was as ignorant of the real situation as he was of 
his own resources, which he magnified when he found him 
self sitting in the Czar s study. But there was another who 
knew every possible detail. He paced about the attic of a 
house owned by a worker named Emilyanov near the Razliv 
railway station, not far from Petrograd. With every fresh 
piece of news he became more cheerful and he talked freely 
to comrades Emilyanov and Alilneva. 

"There is a fable by old Krilov," he said, "about a zealous 
fool being more dangerous than a foe. The bourgeoisie may 
apply it to Kerensky. Alexander TV* has been our best ally. 
He allowed us into Russia. He destroyed the army and made 
himself obnoxious to the people. Now we can go in and take 
away his power with our bare hands. There is no longer a 
Government. At most we have only to shoot down a few 
of the braver Mensheviks with a machine gun, but that won t 
take long/ 

"We must wait a bit yet, Vladimir Ilyitch. They say that 
the Generals are on the move. They ll set the Cossacks on us 
and create a few officers 5 battalions. Our time has not come." 

"You re right," laughed Lenin. Tm in no hurry, because 
I know that every day things go better for us. Our enemies 
will tear each other to pieces." 

He continued to write letters, articles and leaflets, to spread 
a feeling of hatred, to organize the propagation of rumors. He 
accused the Government and the Socialists who supported it 
of imperialistic tendencies. He secretly recruited and armed 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 181 

his revolutionary forces. He insisted upon immediate peace 
in Europe, without annexation or indemnity. He demanded 
plenary powers for the Councils of Workers, Soldiers and Peas 
ant Delegates. 

Before long the Mensheviks discovered the unpleasant truth 
that the revolutionary spirit was growing among the factory 
workers, so they extended their enquiries and found clue after 
clue leading always to the hiding-place of Lenin. 

Warned in time, Lenin left Razliv and went to Finland. 
On his way he halted in Wyborg and incited a massacre of 
the officers in the local garrison which was echoed later in 
the massacre at Kronstadt where the sailors^ having cut the 
throats of their officers, captured the fortress and the whole 
Baltic Fleet. So Lenin left behind him a spoor of blood 
and then suddenly it stopped, He had disappeared as if the 
ground had swallowed him up. 

He was staying in Helsingfors at the house of the Police 
Superintendent Rovio, who was an adherent of Bolshevism 
and an admirer of its author. Close contact was soon re-estab 
lished between Lenin and Petrograd under the direction of a 
Finn who arranged the avenues of communication. The same 
man soon smuggled Lenin back to Wyborg disguised as Con- 
stantine Ivanov, a compositor. Aided by Smilga, Lenin pre 
pared the Finnish regiments and the Baltic Fleet for battle 
against the Government s troops. He spread discontent among 
the Russian soldiers who guarded the frontier, negotiated with 
the Left Wing of the Social Revolutionaries, and developed a 
tremendous campaign of propaganda in the countryside. 

Most of all Lenin feared Konulov who wanted to save Russia 
by awakening the spirit of patriotism among her people. That 
was a danger which Lenin knew it would be difficult to 
overcome, 

"How can we overcome him ?" the revolutionary, was always 
asking himself. "He is a prof essional soldier, an energetic and 



182 LENIN 

capable General. How can we oppose him when we have not 
a single officer on our side ?" 

Day and night this problem was running through his mind. 
He could neither eat nor sleep. The upshot of it was that he 
became obsessed, and one morning he even accosted a Colonel 
of the General Staff whom he met, surrounded by a Cossack 
bodyguard, in the streets of Wyborg. 

"Comrade Colonel," he shouted, "come over to the side of 
the workers, who are bound to win sooner or later. If you 
don t join us you ll die on a rope or under our rifle-butts. But 
if you accept my proposal you will be made Commander-in- 
Chief of our armed forces." 

"How dare you address me like that?" thundered the indig 
nant officer. He nodded to the Cossacks. "Arrest the fellow/ 
he said. Take him for trial." 

The Cossacks surrounded Lenin, who saw now the danger 
in which he had pkced himself. He bit his lip and looked 
about for assistance. At the end of the street he noticed a 
group of soldiers, the very men who, two months before, had 
slaughtered their officers. In various stages of drunkenness, 
their uniforms unbuttoned, their caps on the backs of their 
heads, they walked about the town singing, swearing, and eat 
ing the sunflower seeds known in those days as "nuts of the 
Revolution." Some of them were looking now at the Colonel 
and his bodyguard. 

Suddenly Lenin raised his arms and shouted, "Comrades! 
This bourgeois Colonel, the blood-sucker, stayed safely on the 
Staff and drove us to death! He has arrested me for refusing 
to tell where our Ilyitch, our Lenin, has hid himself!" 

In a moment soldiers were running upon them from all 
directions. The Cossacks, hopelessly outnumbered, fled in fear 
of their lives. The Colonel fumbled for his revolver in its 
holster, but before he could draw it he was struck on the head 
with a stone. He fell and was pounded to death by the fists 
and boots of the drunken soldiers. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 183 

Lenin looked back from a distance at the cursing men sur 
rounding a heap of bloody rags upon the pavement. 
"Even his mother would not recognise the worthy Colonel 

now/ 5 he said to himself with a satisfied smile. "Weil, he has 
been paid in full by the soldiers of the Russian Revolution. 5 

He made up his mind to write at once to Petrogtad, warning 
the comrades against consultations, meetings, congresses, and 
nonsense of that sort. 

"The Revolution needs only one thing now," he decided. 
"It needs men with arms in their hands. Armed men!" 

As he hurried home a riie-shot, followed by the shouts of 
angry men, sounded in a side street He peered cautiously 
round a corner. A crowd of people was dragging something 
along the pavement, beating it and cuffing it as they went. It 
was the body of a man. The head struck against the stones 
of the street and left behind it a trail of blood. The mob 
rushed by him and he saw that they had the body of a young 
officer. 

In that moment Lenin saw the judgment of the people after 
centuries of serfdom and oppression. He heard also in his ears 
the voice of the peasant in the Austrian prison, "Judge noL" 

"Now is the time for you to judge and for you to pass sen 
tence, comrades," he muttered as he watched them. 

"Long live the Social Revolution!" he cried aloud. "Long 
live the Councils of Soldiers and Workers* Delegates!" 

"Long live the Revolution," cried the mob, still sporting with 
the body of their victim. 

Above their heads the bell of a church tower rang out, call 
ing the faithful to the worship of God. Lenin looked up at it 
ironically. 

"Well, where is your gospel of love?" he asked. "Will you 
oppose us now? No, you will be silent, for we bear witness 
to the truth." 



LENIN 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE DARKNESS of a November night was creeping over 
Petrograd. A strong frost gripped the deserted streets, 
lit faintly here and there by the lamps which had sur 
vived the bloody days of July and the outbreaks of the succeed 
ing months. Along the Neva Prospect the cheerless windows 
of houses and of shops were roughly boarded up with planks. 

Snow began to fall. 

The street was deserted but it was not inactive. Every now 
and then the pale face of a soldier or of a policeman could be 
seen peering from the deep gateway o a house, a bayonet 
gleamed for a moment in the light, or there was the metallic 
thud of a rifle grounded upon the stones. It was a living 
silence, a desert full of eyes. 

Suddenly, along the Mojka embankment a gate was flung 
open with a crash. The footsteps of a man walking quickly 
were flung back in echo after echo by the high houses of the 
street. The man, with the peak of his cap pulled over his 
eyes and his coat collar turned up to hide his face, appeared 
on the Neva Prospect and turned up Morskaya Street to the 
arch leading into the Winter Square. Under the great arch 
his footsteps rang out even more loudly like the beating of a 
great drum. When he saw the Winter Palace and the tall sil 
houette of the Alexander Column before him, he made to 
across the square towards the Vassilyev Ostrov. 

At that moment shots rang out from the white Admiralty 
building. Bullets smacked upon the wall near him, breaking 
off the plaster which dropped upon the snow-filmed pavement. 
The man staggered and fell. 

"Ha! Ha!" The laugh came from behind the granite pillars 
of the arch. "The demagogue^ Kcrensky, fears for his skin. 
But this shows there arc still people left to defend the Palace 
and the Tky-boy of the Revolution/ What do you think. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 185 

Comrade Antonov-Ovshenko? What will happen tomorrow ? n 

It was Lenin who spoke. His companion, a tall, lean man, 
dressed in a military great-coat, shrugged his shoulders and re 
plied: "I ve told you my opinion, Vladimir Ilyitch. Petro- 
grad will be in our hands by tomorrow night. For two days 
I have been going from factory to factory, and from barracks 
to barracks. At a word from Lenin forty thousand armed 
workers will be in the streets. They will be joined by the 
Pavlovsky and the Preobrajensky regiments. It all depends on 
you now." 

"I am ready!" cried Lenin. His Mongol face was set. "I am 
ready. They are the ones who delay." 

"Who?" asked Antonov. "Zinovyev? Kamenev?" 

"Yes. Those two and some others, besides the youngsters, 
who are not confident of victory. 1 must persuade them. It is 
a betrayal of the proletariat to take the risk without believing 
in the triumph of our cause." 

"But you must not draw back!" exclaimed Antonov. "In 
your articles you fixed once and for all the date when the 
Communists would fight for power. It is too late to go back 
on it." 

"I am not going back on it," laughed Lenin. "What I want 
is a universal enthusiasm and a maximum effort.** 

"If you lift your little finger, Vladimir Ilyitch, there will not 
be a single objector left. If you asked me I would kill off the 
whole Central Committee of the Party and the Council of Sol 
diers and Workers 5 Delegates." 

A third man hidden in the darkness muttered some remark 
to himself. 

"What s the matter. Comrade Khalainen? 9 * asked Lenin. 

Khalainen replied in broken Russian, "You know the Finn 
ish revolutionaries who protect you? You know what they 
will do for yoe? Give us any order and we carry it out. 
Nobody will dare to oppose you.** He stiffened himself in the 
darkness and stood, rigid, like a young oak-tree. 



186 LENIN 

Lenin laughed softly. "We shall see," he whispered. "We 
shall see tonight. Now let us go. 3 

Quite openly they entered the Neva Prospect and walked 
along, discussing everyday matters. Near the Anitchkov Pal 
ace they were stopped by a patrol to have their identity cards 
examined, but no questions were asked because they were de 
scribed as secretaries to the Council, returning from the Winter 
Palace where the Provisional Government was then lodged. 
Further on, near the Ligovka, they noticed military patrols in 
front of the station, and in the gateways of the houses there 
were watchful groups of soldiers or of civilians dressed in mili 
tary great-coats. 

As they moved on towards the Crimean Palace they found 
more and more soldiers concealed in dark alleys and at the 
corners of streets. More and more people, singly and in 
crowds, moved towards the Ligovka and Znamyenska Square. 
The distant suburbs were pouring out into Petrograd these 
menacing shapes which slipped eerily through the streets. 

"The vanguard of the Proletarian Revolution," whispered 
Lenin, rubbing his hands. "They won t betray us." 

"No, they won t, 3 agreed Antonov. "And there are more of 
them closing in on the Post Office, the Fortress and the State 
Bank." 

They walked on quickly in silence until they reached a large, 
well-lit building surrounded by a large garden. They went in 
and entered a room filled with workers, soldiers and students. 
They were recognized at once. A whisper of astonishment 
went through the room: C Vladimir Lenin. Kerensky has 
ordered his arrest. Our Lenin does not know what fear is." 

Meanwhile the three companions made their way through 
the motley assembly to the presidential table which stood upon 
a dais at the end of the room. Lenin mounted the dais, 
snatched off his cap and crumpled it in his hand. There was 
a general silence. He began to speak in a voice that was full 
of brutal passion. His ideas were hard and uncompromising. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 187 

His staccato phrases, sometimes cut short in the middle of a 
word, were in defiance of any rhetorical art. But It was a 
speech full of internal power, of indomitable conviction, of an 
almost insane fluency and hatred and blasphemy. His bald 
skull gleamed in the dimly lit smoke-filled room, his fists rose 
and fell like hammers upon the table. His eyes flashed with 
fire. They swept here and there, taking in every detail., ex 
amined every face, quelled every objector, threatened and ap 
praised. The speech was long but Lenin only repeated again 
and again the one train of argument, as though he were ham 
mering nails home into wood* Now was the time for action, 
he said. To delay any longer would be a treason in the face of 
revolution. The rebellion of armed forces had to begin at 
once. The Government of Russia at that moment had neither 
intelligence nor a policy, neither forces nor resources. It would 
surrender inevitably. And peace with Germany would be pro 
posed immediately, the land would be distributed among the 
peasants, the factories given to the toiling masses. The choice 
had to be made at once between the victory of revolution and 
the victory of reaction. The victory of revolution was assured 
only if the rising took place at once. Delay was a crime. De 
lay was treason. Only two or three days of fighting were 
needed for a complete victory. 

TLong live the Social Revolution!" he cried. "Long Eve the 
Dictatorship of the Proletariat!" 

A storm of shouts and cheers broke out. Workers and sol 
diers swarmed around Lenin, jostling him with enthusiasm. 
In the wild turmoil that ensued only a few voices were raised 
to call Kim a madman and a visionary, and they were silenced. 

Suddenly a gigantic sailor jumped up on the dais and thun 
dered in a voice that drowned the tumult: *The Aurora, the 
cruiser that has declared for Comrade Lenin, had dropped 
anchor in the Neva. Her guns are trained on the Fortress and 
the Winter Palace. They need only the command to open 
fire/ 



!88 LENIN 

A wave of indescribable enthusiasm flooded over the whole 
room. Even the men who had just protested against Lenin 
shouted now in hysterical excitement: "Long live the Revo 
lution! Long live the Dictatorship of the Revolution!" 

Lenin banged the table with his fist and held up the cap in 
his hand for silence. 

"Comrades! At dawn you must be in the places of danger, 
leading the ranks of the revolutionary vanguard!" 

"Long live Lenin!" An eager mob at once began to leave 
the room, crowding at the doorway, scuffling to be gone. 
Others crowded around the table where Trotsky was bending 
with pale face and compressed mouth over a map of Petrograd. 
He looked a sinister figure with his black, dishevelled hair and 
his hook nose; yet he was given an odd after-effect of benevo 
lence by the thick glasses which gleamed in the light. 

"Yes, Comrade Trotsky is right," said Ensign Krylenko and 
the huge sailor, Dybienko in chorus, looking at the map. 

Lenin spoke: "Send a wire to Comrade Muravyev telling 
him to start the hurdy-gurdy in Moscow." 

"The wire is ready," replied Trotsky. "Comrade Volodarsky 
will see that it goes from the telegraph office." 

"Can I get past the Government censors all right?" asked 
the young student. 

"The telegraph has been in our hands since noon," said An- 
tonov. "The censors have joined us." 

"Good for you!" said Lenin with a hearty laugh. Suddenly 
he became grave and nodded to Antonov. 

"Go now, comrade. You must see that nobody has a chance 
to draw back at the last moment." 

Antonov left the hall Lenin sat by himself without joining 
the discussions of the mob-leaders who would carry the prole 
tariat to victory or death in the morning. He took out a 
pocket-book and began to write. Trotsky came over and 
watched him. 
"I am writing an article, something on the lines of our man- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 189 

ifesto. It will serve as a preparation for the order/ said Lenin 
in answer to the silent query. "Do what you can to get it into 
the papers tomorrow." 

"I shall surround the Pravda offices with a battalion of the 
Pavlovsky regiment. The paper will come out with your 
article." 

"Not bad," said Lenin. "Not bad, if you can t do it other 
wise." 

When the article was finished he handed the slips to Trotsky. 
Then he touched him confidentially on the shoulder and 
asked: "What shall we call our Ministers? We must have 
another name for them. The word Minister is old and hated 
Minister Plehve, Minister Goremykin, Minister Kerensky. 
To Hell with all that! But what is the alternative ? * 

"Well . . . why not People s Commissars?" suggested Trotsky 
after a moment s deliberation. 

"People s Commissars," muttered Lenin. "People s Commis 
sars. Not bad. It smacks of revolution right enough. Yes, 
it s definitely good. We shall have it." He smiled again. 
"Now another point. I have just written an article asking 
whether our proletariat will keep the power they seize. That 
they will seize power is now quite certain. But you must ex* 
plain to the masses how to keep it." 

"That is a question for another day/* replied Trotsky. "First 
you must get power. After that " 

Lenin frowned and there was anger in his narrow eyes. 
"After that be damned F* he rapped out. "We can t afford to 
put anything off. We must do everything at once and I 
know what to do. But Fm not certain of the Central Commit 
tee of the Communist Party. There are a lot of compromisers 
there. They may get sentimental and take up bourgeois loyalty 
again. I saw all this when I was in exile. I know the Russian 
people from head to foot On the surface there is Utopianism 
and weakness of will But way down beneath that are mighty 



ipo LENIN 

forces unused and unawakened. Our task is to awake those 
forces and that can be done. We know how to do It." 

Trotsky looked up questioningly. 

"How did we get where we are tonight ?" continued Lenin. 
"By understanding the silent instincts of the masses and by 
using them. They are tired of the war, so our slogan is Peace. 
The peasants hate to be taken from their ploughs so we de 
mand the land for the peasants. They will come over to us, 
body and soul. The workers, deceived more than once by the 
Social Democrats, join our ranks at once when they see our 
banner: The Control of Production and Work by the Work 
ers. Now we shall give them even more." 

"What about the bourgeoisie and the intellectuals ?" enquired 
an old bearded worker who had drifted over to them. 

"They must perish, comrade! The victorious proletariat will 
do away with that whole class!" 

"At last the hour of revenge is at hand," shouted the worker. 
"For the misery of my whole life, for the prostitution of my 
daughter^ for . . ." 

Lenin came up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. He 
stared fixedly into the man s eyes and whispered between his 
teeth: "Comrade, you will have revenge without stint for 
every jot of your sufferings. I give you leave. What is your 
name ?" 

"Peter Bogomolov. I am a blacksmith at the Obukhovo 
factory." 

"Comrade Bogomolov, remind me of this discussion when 
we are in power. I shall give you the opportunity for revenge. 
And your daughter may have her revenge as well. Bring her 
to see me. The punishment of her shame will fall upon the 
enemies of the proletariat." 

At that moment the heavy thud of gunfire shook the win 
dows of the room. The men were frozen into silence. It was 
possible almost to hear the beating of their hearts. Then rifle 
shots rang out from every direction. They blended into vol- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 191 

leys and then died down. Far away a machine-gun, chattered 
once and again. A searchlight swept the sky with its white 
ray. Immediately afterwards a gun boomed. The window 
panes rattled again. The electric lamp on the table flickered 
and went out. 

"The Aurora!" shouted Zinoviev. "She is bombarding the 
Fortress." 

"We have begun/ sighed Lenin. He stretched himself taut 
with his thick lips eagerly opened like a beast of prey. 

"We have begun/ 3 replied the men at the table in a whisper. 

"May we succeed!" said the blacksmith in a voice of grave 
enthusiasm, crossing himself devoutly. 

Lenin turned to him in a fury of scorn. "Don t come to 
me, comrade/ he shouted. "I will do nothing for you. You 
are a slave of the old prejudices, and your old God. You are 
no more a revolutionary than I am an archbishop." He spat 
and walked across the room, saying, "Zukhanov, Fm going to 
He down for a bit at your place." 

But the blacksmith barred his way. "Fm ready to strangle 
priests with my ow T n hands/ he muttered hoarsely, "because 
they assisted the Czars in oppression. But God that s a dif 
ferent matter. Why, God speaks to men " 

"Well, if He does, listen to Him. And leave me alone!" 

"Yes/ continued the blacksmith. "He speaks to you In the 
voice of your own souL Listen to Him, Comrade Lenin. Do 
not be scornful for often you will be in trouble and then you 
will hear His voice. And when you hesitate whether to go 
left or right, He will guide you. Indeed, God is good." 

Lenin did not reply, nor did he even pay attention to the 
speaker. The bkcksmith stood for a moment looking at him 
and then left the room. 

"An illiterate boor caught by the church/ said Lenin. Then 
he added, turning to Trotsky, "Did you hear the hatred in his 
voice when lie spoke of revenge? That was the voice of In 
stinct. If you make use of It you will win." 



192 LENIN 

"But supposing the savage instincts of men like that break 
out of bounds?" asked Zinovyev. 

The discussion drew the attention of a tall, thin man, with 
the sunken chest of a consumptive, who was leaning against 
the wall. His face twitched as he listened. His cold, distant 
eyes had an unblinking stare. He came across to the group 
and broke into the conversation. 

"They must be strangled by a terrorism more drastic than 
any that has ever been heard of before: a tyranny upheld by 
ideas more valuable than the demands of instinct. Only find 
such ideas and then use them to destroy the mob." 

Lenin looked at him suspiciously. Then he looked at Trot 
sky, who came over to him and whispered, "Comrade Dzherz- 
hinsky. You have not met him before, Vladimir Ilyitch, though 
he is an old and tried friend of ours. He gave me great help 
with our propaganda among the soldiers at the Front. I find 
him the most active and capable man in the Party apart from 
Djevaltowsky and Krylenko." 

Lenin put out his hand. "Welcome, comrade. I am glad 
to hear so well of you. You are a Pole ? I appreciate the Poles 
because they represent a genuine and historical revolutionary 
element." 

"Yes, I am. a Pole," said Dzherzhinsky venomously. "I am 
full of hatred and a desire for revenge." 

"Upon whom?" asked Lenin and Trotsky with sudden un 
easiness. 

"Upon Russia," replied Dzherzhinsky unhesitatingly. 

"Upon Russia?" 

"Yes, upon the Russia of the Czars which sowed the seed of 
corruption in the Polish nation. The nobles were attached to 
the Russian throne, and the peasants were made to accept bond 
age and to follow blindly a love of the soil and of tradition." 

"You yield to patriotism and nationalism, eh ?" asked Lenin 
wryly. 

"No!" Dzherzhinsky shook his head. "I desire only to see 



GOD OF THE GODLESS ! 93 

the Poles in the front rank of the proletarian army. But that 
Is hardly possible, Comrade, for they have a fantastic love of 
their country." 

"We can solve that problem," said Trotsky to soothe him. 
For Dzherzhinsky s face twitched so terribly that he was 
obliged to cup It in his hands. His eyes stared and a spasm 
distorted his bloodless lips. 

"Are you going to draw Poland within the sphere of your 
activities, comrade?" he asked at length. 

"Just now we are dealing with Russia/ replied Lenin eva 
sively. 

"Just now. And later on?" Again he was convulsed with a 
spasm. He looked with a mad and terrifying stare at the 
Russians. 

"Poland will enter into the world plan of the Proletarian 
Revolution/ answered Trotsky, for Lenin was absorbed in a 
careful scrutiny of the Pole. 

"I think I understand you/ he said after a few moments, 
stepping towards him. "You are a useful man. We shall en 
trust you with the work of prosecuting the enemies of the 
proletariat and the Revolution." 

Dzhcrzhinsky raised his head on high. As if calling Heaven 
to witness, he answered with emphasis upon every word, "I 
shall drown them in blood." 

"The Class Revolution demands It from you/ whispered 
Lenin. 

"I shall do It," replied Dzhcrzhinsky* 

Just then a bareheaded student armed with a rifle entered 
the room. 

**The railway stations have been taken almost without a shot. 
We are fighting now for the Post Office, the State Bank and 
the Telephone Exchange. 91 

In the distance was heard the dull thunder of gunfire under 
which the windows rattled ceaselessly. And through them 
came the first rays of dawn. 



194 



LENIN 



CHAPTER XVII 



A BIG LIMOUSINE which had just left the English Embank 
ment came suddenly to a halt. The chauffeur looked 
around cautiously on all sides. He was surprised to 
see no traffic of any kind on the streets although it was already 
nine o clock in the morning, nor were there any passersby. 
Then shots rang out and the rattle o a machine gun sounded 
in the distance. Flocks of frightened pigeons wheeled over the 
houses, dipped and wheeled up again in white circles above 
the city. 

A scattered group of soldiers came out of a side street and 
doubled across the road towards the motor car. They sur 
rounded it with bayonets fixed. 

"Who s in this car?" asked one of them threateningly. 

"Engineer Baldyrev, Director of the tobacco factory/ replied 
the chauffeur in an uncertain voice. 

A soldier opened the door of the car and peered within. 

"Climb out!" he shouted. "The car is confiscated by order 
of the War Revolutionary Committee. You can go free, citi 
zen. But I warn you to turn back or you ll get a bullet in you 
round this neighbourhood." 

"By what authority?" asked the passenger, an imposing old 
man with long grey whiskers and moustaches. 

A bayonet slid menacingly into the car. "Our own authority 
is good enough for you," growled the soldier. "Get out." 

"This is an assault," protested the engineer, as he left the 
car. "I shall complain to the Minister." 

The soldier laughed openly. "Be quick about it," he jeered. 
<c The whole gang of Ministers will be in gaol in an hour. 
YouVe had enough motoring anyhow. It s our turn now. 
Ivanov, keep your eye on the chauffeur and deliver the car to 
the commander." 

Baldyrev left the group without further protest and walked 



GOD OF THE GODLESS - 195 

on towards the Alexander Bridge. He was not particularly 
surprised at the occurrence. For months everything had sug 
gested that civil war would come: the rule of the little barris 
ter, Kerensky, who was swept into the position of Prime Min 
ister by the wave of Revolution; Ms betrayal of Kornilov who 
wanted to control the country and save the military situation; 
the rise of the Council of Soldiers and Workers* Delegates, 
under the sway of foreigners like Tseretelli, which was a state 
within a state; the provocative articles in the Bolshevik papers 
demanding supreme power for the Council It could lead only 
to one thing. He expected it, and because he knew the nature 
of the Russian people he knew that It would be savage. Yet 
he had not expected It quite so soon. He had imagined that 
measures like the calling of a Democratic Council at the Win 
ter Palace would frustrate an armed Bolshevik uprising, 
especially as Lenin was in hiding in Finland. 

And now suddenly he was confronted not only with an upris 
ing but with all the evidences of a new government. He tad 
had his private car confiscated in the open street by hostile 
soldiers. He recalled the soldier s jeers and they made him 
uneasy. It was not that he had any great desire that the war 
should go on. He knew that an army in which desertion was 
rife, in which orders were discussed by the soldiers and officers 
were killed with impunity was incapable of facing an organ 
ized enemy like the Germans. Still, he did not want Russk to 
betray her allies or to be destroyed from within with results 
that no man could foresee. 

He walked on In the direction of the LIteyny Prospect where 
there seemed to be no stteet-fighting. He saw clearly the 
clouds gathering above Ms country and he tried to discover 
some hope of rescue for her. This distracted his mind, too, 
from the Inevitable quarrel which he would have with- his wife 
when he reached home. Such quarrels were becoming of dally 
occurrence and he knew that Ms behavior was the cause of 
them. It was impossible for Mm to justify himself, which 



196 LENIN 

made him all the more angry ; and he was particularly tortured 
by the conviction that by no effort of will could he bring 
himself to change his life. He was helpless and powerless 
under an influence which had taken possession of him three 
years before. He even knew that he was being made ridicu 
lous, but there was no help for that. 

Buried in thought, he reached the Prospect, which ran from 
the river bank to the city. But he had not gone more than a 
hundred paces before a machine-gun rattled from the roof of 
one of the houses. He could see nothing but he heard the hiss 
and spatter of bullets, and the echo of the firing thrown back 
by the houses. Plaster spurted from the walls. A shivered 
window-pane fell on the pavement. The firing ceased. At 
once heads appeared in the broken windows and a volley of 
rifle shots was turned upon the roof. 

The engineer dashed for a gateway* At the same moment 
the body of a policeman rolled down the roof, crashed on to 
sheet iron below, and fell at his feet. 

In the gateway Baldyrev found a small knot of people who 
had taken refuge like himself. 

"Holy Russia is dying," sighed an old woman. 

"Bandits and traitors!" growled a fat and bearded merchant. 
"They are trying to get possession of the capital," he crossed 
himself as he spoke. 

A starved and ragged youth laughed mockingly. "That s the 
old song," he said. "Who on earth wants your Holy Russia, 
where the prisons are always full ? Who but yourselves ? We, 
the workers, get nothing out of her. Now we are going to 
sing you our song. We ve dreamed about it for years. Our 
time has come at last!" 

A discussion began. 

"The workers could have come to an agreement without 
bloodshed," said one. 

"Of course they could," agreed another. "But they wanted 
bloodshed. They wanted a revolution." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 197 

"They have chosen a fine time for their rising, the traitors!" 
cried a third. "A civil war at the very moment when the 
enemy has crossed our borders! 5 * 

The young worker said angrily, "You may shout as much 
as you like, but you can t do anything. What do we want with 
agreements? We can snatch what we want out of your hands. 
You are too late, you traitors!" 

The merchant, in a fury, sprang at him with clenched fists. 
"You should defend your country, not start a rebellion, you 
dogs!" 

The worker grinned again. "This is the best time for a re- 
bellion. You would crush us if there were not a war at the 
same time. Now we will crush you instead. Yes, Mr. Bour 
geois, you are finished with." 

The merchant struck him on the chest and the poor weak 
ling fell down. A man standing near began to kick Mm. But 
the worker scrambled to his feet and ran into the open, shout 
ing, "Comrades, they attack the Bolsheviks!" 

Baldyrev waited to longer. He left the gateway and ran into 
the next one. He saw a few armed workers run up and sur 
round the beaten man. A moment later they dragged out 
of the gateway the old merchant and a Civil Servant who had 
joined the argument. They were driven on with blows from 
rifle butts until they stood beneath a high wall The workers 
crossed the street and fired a volley, then disappeared into the 
houses, leaving two motionless bodies on the pavement. 

Baldyrev looked away. A cold shiver of horror passed 
through him. He knew that he did not fear for his own life, 
but he was terrorized by the pervading atmosphere of calamity 
hanging over Russia. A fusillade was heard in the distance 
and a crowd of people ran past Baldyrev, who joined them for 
a few minutes and then turned down a side street. 

But again he had to stop. The street was closed. A crowd 
of schoolboys were building a barricade of paving stones, logs, 
boxes, and pieces of furniture. It grew up quickly under a 



198 LENIN 

fluttering red flag. Even as Baldyrev watched, somebody shout 
ed, "Soldiers!" and at once the boys, armed with rifles, crouched 
behind it. As the soldiers appeared a volley was fired at them 
and immediately a white flag appeared in the midst of the 
detachment. Then a bugle blew. 

A few boys, waving handkerchiefs, ran up to the soldiers. 

"What are you firing for?" they were asked. 

"We are on the side of Comrade Lenin." 

"So are we. We are marching to the Winter Palace to aid 
him." 

At that moment some armed men came out of another turn 
ing. They stopped at once and shouted to the soldiers, "What 
is the password?" 

"Proletariat!" shouted the non-commissioned officer in 
charge. 

Shots rang out. The soldiers dispersed in terror, leaving cas 
ualties and two of the schoolboys writhing like landed fish on 
the pavement. 

"My God!" sobbed Baldyrev and ran off, pale and distracted. 
He had no aim but to hide himself in his own flat as soon as 
possible. At last he bolted through his own gateway and made 
for the elevator. 

"The elevator is not working," said the porter sullenly. 

"That s too bad," said Baldyrev. 

"It might be worse," retorted the porter. "Elevators don t 
matter. You don t live very high up. You can walk. Work 
ers get on without them, so the bourgeoisie can as well" 

Baldyrev looked at the man in astonishment. He had known 
him for fifteen years as a quiet and obliging servant; now he 
was an equal and an enemy. 

"You have changed quickly, citizen," said Baldyrev. 

"It s a pity this has come only in my old age," returned the 
porter. 

Without answering him the engineer went up to the second 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 199 

floor and rang the bell. The parlormaid opened the door and 
eyed him with antagonism. 
"Is Madame in?" he asked. 

"Yes. She would not let me go out this morning, and in the 
meantime " 

"To be sure/ he interrupted. "Now please give me some 
breakfast." 

"I ve got something more important to do/* she replied with 
spirit. "All the domestic workers should be at a meeting now. 
You can get your own breakfast. It won t kill you. 59 

The situation was plain to the engineer. "The slaves are 
tasting freedom/ he thought. "They will be the most dan 
gerous of all." 

He took off his coat and entered his study, where he walked 
up and down rubbing his cold hands. He felt an oppressive 
fear weighing him down, whereas he had generally come on 
these occasions under the spell of pleasant emotions. 

At last he went into his wife s room and found her at her 
writing-desk. Even the sound of his footsteps did not make 
her raise her head. 
"Marie!" 

She was sobbing miserably. 
"Marie! Marie!" he repeated tenderly. 
"Now I know that I mean nothing to you/* she said through 
her sobs* "At a terrible time like this you leave me alone. 
People are shooting one another all round us. The servants 
have turned insolent. And you! You prefer to stay with that 
woman. All your feelings are for her, not for me. A year 
ago when you left me alone I used to weep all night. I was 
in despair. But I felt that you would come back, when you 
found the difference between that dancer and the mother of 
your sons, the woman who has shared both fortune and mis 
fortune with you. I was wrong. This is not a late infatua 
tion. This is love, if you cared for her, only for her, on such 
a terrible night." 



200 LENIN 

She rose and confronted her husband with reproachful eyes. 
He was ashamed. Even then he noticed that she might still 
pass for a young woman with her supple figure, her black hair 
only threaded with grey, her smooth oval face, her almost girl 
ish lips. Nothing betrayed her age. Only two deep lines near 
the mouth and the expression of her eyes revealed her sorrow 
and suffering. 

"Marie," said Baldyrev. "I know I am guilty and I don t 
deserve forgiveness. The woman holds me with a terrible 
attraction. It is stronger than I am. But I was anxious about 
you and I left her early. I couldn t cross the river for a long 
time and then my car was confiscated. I have seen terrible 
things today . . ." 

He caught his wife s hand like a frightened child and in 
a broken voice he told her his adventures. 

"An awful catastrophe is ahead of us," he repeated over and 
over again. 

While they were still talking a tall, dark, young man entered 
the flat. 

"Ah! I m glad to see you here together. Has Gregory come 
yet, Mother?" 

"No," Madame Baldyreva replied, drying her eyes. "Do you 
expect him to come?" 

"What, crying?" the young man asked, suddenly. He 
turned to his father. "Another one of your periodical honey 
moons, eh ? Father, it is rather ridiculous at your age. I only 
wonder that mother hasn t got used to it after three years." 

Madame Baldyreva rebuked him and looked at her husband 
uneasily. He sat in the armchair, pale and preoccupied, oblivi 
ous to his son s irony. She touched his head caressingly and 
looked down at him, at his weak, well-groomed face. At times 
she hated his blue eyes, his full mouth, his soft sidewhiskers, 
his luxuriant hair with all the hatred of an abandoned wife. 
Yet she felt tenderness for him because he was so weak. She 
knew that he was rich now by chance, not by any effort of his 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 261 

own mind and muscles. His only merit was that he had not 
actually ruined his career and he worked at his factory day by 
day, though without enthusiasm or ambition. 

"What?" he asked suddenly, as if roused from sleep. "You 
asked me something, Marie?" 

"Peter has just conie in. He is waiting for Gregory." 

"What news is there? * he asked his son. "How are your 
workmen behaving?" 

"Very badly," replied Peter. "This morning only one in ten 
came to work. The rest have joined the Bolsheviks. The ones 
who came called a meeting and carted all the engineers off the 
premises in wheel-barrows. They only let me stay because they 
said I treated them like human beings and worked with them 
at the lathes. They elected me manager. My position was 
idiotic and a little dangerous I resigned and asked to be dis 
missed. There was no other way out because I had the man 
agement to think of and I wanted to stand in with it." 

"Quite right," agreed the father. "The management will 
appreciate it, I m sure, when normal times return." 

"They won t return," said the son seriously. "Sometimes, 
perhaps, but not soon anyhow. I m quite sure that the Revolu 
tion will succeed, and just such a Revolution as the people have 
dreamed of. As a matter of fact, I m rather pleased." 

"How on earth can you say that?" 

"Well, that is the way I look at it. The people can t bear 
their conditions any longer. Those who are working hardest 
are nothing but slaves or else indispensable machines to be 
scrapped when they are no longer efficient, or when their 
owners can dispense with them." 

"But the system is the same all over the world," Baldyrev 
protested. 

"Yes, it is wrong all over the world. The American capital 
ists know it, and they have introduced a system of making the 
workers partners in the enterprise. All other countries are 
threatened with revolt and now it has broken out in Russia." 



202 LENIN 

The telephone rang. Baldyrev took up the receiver and 
listened. Then he slid back into his chair, pale and shaken, 
letting the instrument fall out of his nerveless fingers. 

"Our stores have been robbed by a detachment of Red sol 
diers and sailors. The factory is on fire. Our chairman rang 
up to tell me." 

Peter Baldyrev walked up and down snapping his fingers. 
"That is what I am most afraid of. If the savage instincts of 
the mob get out of hand they will destroy everything. What 
will happen to Russia? I don t mind collaborating with a free 
people, but not with vandals. Are you going to the factory?" 

"The Chairman says that the place is a battlefield between 
the rebels and the Semenov regiment." 

Just then Gregory Baldyrev entered the room. Unlike the 
other son he resembled their mother. He had the same black 
hair and swarthy skin, and his dreamy face marked him as a 
profound thinker. 

"Hullo! Our metaphysician has turned up," exclaimed 
Peter. 

"Terrible things are going on," said Gregory, wringing his 
hands. "They are fighting everywhere. I had to come all 
the way by side streets.* 5 

"What s the news?" 

"No good news. The Workers Council has decided to close 
down our factory because it is making scented soap, eau de 
Cologne and tooth-powder. They are not needed for prole 
tarians." He smiled sadly. 

"But you make medical supplies also!" 

"We pointed that out. They told us that aspirins were all 
right for the bourgeoisie but not for the working-class. All our 
supplies were confiscated and carried away, nobody knows 
where. They put detachments of rebels from suburban fac 
tories into ours. With my own eyes I saw them unscrewing 
working parts from our machines if they were made of brass or 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 203 

bronze, and taking away instruments of platinum or silver. A 
real Twentieth Century Revolution!" 

"A Russian Revolution at all events," said Peter. "And it is 
quite appropriate. We are a nation o savages and our sav 
agery has been increased by oppression. We have been driven 
into crime and treason." 

"But the Revolution ought to unify the nation!" protested 
Gregory. "How can it do so if it is marked at the outset by 
crime and murder?" 

"Your argument may suit Quakers and evangelical Chris 
tians, Gregory, but it is no use with us. We are a half-heathen 
nation enthralled by the powers of darkness." 

"Yet our intelligentsia is equal to the best in Europe. Our 
art is admired everywhere." 

"My dear fellow!" exclaimed Peter. "Your ideas are anti 
quated and not at all convincing. Our creative intelligentsia 
amounts to two or three millions. And the remaining one 
hundred and fifty millions kill the doctors, teachers, agricul 
turists and veterinaries who come amongst them on the 
grounds that they are spreading cholera. Also, they drown 
witches. There is a gulf that cannot be bridged between us 
and the peasants." 

"That is true," said Mr. Baldyrev suddenly. "I have known 
the working classes for twenty-six years. We understand one 
another perfectly on technical matters. But if I broach a gen 
eral topic they cannot comprehend a word. They are embar 
rassed, incredulous, even hostile. Do you think the peasant 
even understands the townsman? He does not. When I was 
with my brother Serge in the country, I found that the peasants 
hate the landed gentry, they suspect everybody, they hate the 
townsman and scorn the factory worker." 

"The trouble is that we are not a community," exclaimed 
Peter. "We are a collection of classes without any common 
interests but with any number of territorial, religious and 
tribal divisions." 



204 LENIN 

"Well, how is Lenin going to unite all these elements? 55 
asked Gregory. 

"That is the question. We ll know soon enough if he wins. 
Our proletarian leader is an enigma." 

"Come into breakfast/ said Madame Baldyreva, opening 
the door. "I have prepared it myself, for all the servants have 
gone to meetings." 

It was a silent meal, with Madame Baldyreva keeping back 
her tears, and her husband still pale and troubled. She 
imagined that he was thinking of his mistress, who completely 
dominated him. But in fact his mind was too full of the 
Revolution to spare a thought for the coquettish Tamara; 
though he was at last aware of his own weakness and of the 
impatience with which his sons had come to treat him. He 
had now a presage that a new life was opening to him after a 
period of unknown trials. All he knew was that he could not 
meet them like a fighter and a conqueror. 

After breakfast the men set out for the city to examine the 
situation. There was no more shooting. A squad of soldiers 
marched along the street with red rosettes on their chests and 
rifles, singing revolutionary songs. On the Neva Prospect, the 
very center of the old life of the Capital, crowds of people 
were gathered. A Red Flag waved from the tower of the 
Town Hall and the shout was raised now and then, "Long live 
the Socialist Republic!" 

Through Morskaya they went to the square in front of the 
Winter Palace, where they found a regular military camp. 
There was a park of guns and machine-guns, shells and shell- 
cases lay about, the snow was stamped down by the passing 
of feet. Military kitchens were smoking busily, horses whin 
nied, a barricade ran across the square in a broken line. And 
at the sides the walls of the General Staff and the Foreign 
Office, pocked and chipped with bullets, their windows shat 
tered, looked down gloomily upon the activity below. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 205 

Everywhere were groups of soldiers and armed workers dis 
cussing the events of the day. 

"Workers from the Kolomenskaya factory have broken 
through the gates of the Palace. They are attacking now/ 
shouted one of the rebels. 

A Red Cross ambulance rattled through the square. Baldyrev 
noticed on the granite steps of the column raised to com 
memorate Napoleon s retreat, there lay a heap of bodies. They 
were the victims of the Revolution: overcoats had been thrown 
over them; but stiff legs and marching boots protruded 
sickeningly. 

There was a ripple of shots from within the courtyards of 
the gigantic palace, then two full volleys, then a ragged volley, 
and after it a storm of furious shouting, which rose to a 
crescendo with a smashing of glass, a crash of iron and a 
splintering of wood. Immediately a series of well-timed vol 
leys rang out and a mob of soldiers and workers came pouring 
from the main entrance in a panic. They sheltered behind the 
barricades and fired wildly. 

They were followed by disciplined companies of soldiers in 
grey uniforms, who were fighting a brave but hopeless battle; 
for though they directed a withering fire into the square, their 
rear was engaged with revolutionaries inside the palace. 

"The Cadets and the Bochkarova Women s Battalion are 
between two fires!" shouted the workers who were concealed 
with the Baldyrevs behind a field-kitchen. "And they are 
Kerensky s last defenders!" 

A minute later: "The Winter Palace has fallen!" 

A Red Flag crept slowly up the huge flag-pole upon which 
the banners of the Czars had waved for so long, and flew 
proudly in the wind. At the signal everybody in the square 
dashed upon the stricken defenders and a massacre began. 
Baldyrev saw the Cadets hemmed in from all sides and 
smashed to the ground under the rifle butts which rose and fell 
like flails. He saw the workers fight with one another for a 



206 LENIN 

place in the swarm near enough to brain a cadet or to blow 
out his stomach with a shot at close range. He saw a pack of 
workers surround two of the young soldiers, snatch their rifles 
from them, fell them to the ground and fight over their bodies 
like wolves tearing the flesh of a hunted animal. It was a 
pandemonium of maddened men, howling and cursing in their 
frenzy, trampling on a bloody mass of broken bodies, of hair 
and rags and brains. 

In another part of the square even more terrible events were 
going on. The soldiers of the Pavlovsky regiment were at 
tacking the remnants of the Women s Battalion as they fell 
back on the palace. The women defended themselves bravely, 
even at close quarters with the bayonet, and at times they made 
ground; only to fall back again in a hopeless retreat. They 
were cut off and isolated by a ring of steel. Then began a wild 
struggle in which they used even their fists and their teeth. 
Time and again women were seized from the broken ranks. 
They were pulled this way and that, their clothes were torn 
from their bodies. 

"Ugh! An old witch! Away with her!" shouted a soldier 
in disgust. The bones of a middle-aged woman cracked under 
the thud of his rifle-butt and her half-naked body was swal 
lowed up in the melee. Other soldiers, excited by the struggle, 
dragged the young volunteers by their hair, by their naked 
shoulders or by the rags of their uniforms, into neighbouring 
houses. 

A freckled giant with a girl slung across his back ran 
through the crowds. Dishevelled chestnut hair fell across her 
pale face, her white body hung powerless, exhausted by the 
struggle, paralysed by the terror of shame and death. The 
soldier ran up to an ambulance and peered inside. Then he 
poked his rifle through the canvas curtain and fired, driving 
out a doctor and a nurse who hid in the crowd. 

The soldier flung his booty into the ambulance, then crawled 
in after her and pulled the curtains across. People stood around 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 207 

in silence, hearing his heavy breathing and the faint moans 
of the girl. 

At the same moment an armoured car drove under the arch 
of the General Staff. Soldiers with red ribbons on their caps 
and tunics stood on the steps of it or clung precariously to the 
mudguards. And standing up amongst them was a man in a 
black overcoat with the grey cap of a worker. It was Lenin, 
smiling calmly, taking in with his inscrutable eyes every detail 
of the massacre. He was recognised at once. 

"Long live Lenin! Long live Comrade Lenin, our leader! 
Lenin! Lenin! Long live Lenin!" 

The air was shaken with the cries of the people. They stood 
on tiptoe, jostling one another, to see the man who was open 
ing for them the future of their rosiest dreams. 

"Make way, comrades!" shouted his bodyguard. "Make 
way for Comrade Lenin." 

"What s all this about?" asked Lenin jovially when he 
passed the ambulance surrounded by a crowd of ghouls. 

They laughed in answer. "A soldier got hold of a bourgeois 
girl from the Women s Battalion. Ha! Ha! When he is 
finished with her she won t defend the Winter Palace and the 
Bourgeoisie any more!" 

Lenin s mouth curved in disgust. Involuntarily his eyes half 
closed and the pupils smouldered ominously. But he appre 
ciated the atmosphere. It was his genius to make use of the 
desires of the people. He saw their pale faces, their hungry 
eyes, their drawn lips. 

He laughed aloud and shouted: "Let the faithful defender 
of the proletariat enjoy himself. From today onwards, com 
rades, everything is yours. Take what has been taken from 
you!" 

The mob howled with delight. "Long live Lenin! Our 
leader! Our father! Lenin! Lenin!" 

The car moved on slowly and stopped near the walls of the 



208 LENIN 

palace where the last of the cadets and women were feebly 
struggling. 

"Get rid of them!" he shouted. "Be quick about it, so that 
you can inspect the palace! It is yours, comrades! It is yours, 
my brothers! It is yours, fighters for liberty, for the happi 
ness of the proletariat, for the golden future of mankind!" 

Meanwhile the freckled giant had jumped down from the 
ambulance. He adjusted his uniform, smiling lazily and look 
ing round with a boastful air on the crowd. 

"She liked me well enough," he said. "And she may be 
the daughter of a General! Ha! Ha!" He made an obscene 
gesture, then suddenly shouted, "Get in the queue! Hurry up! 
Who s the first? The General s daughter is ready for you!" 

The crowd, grinning sheepishly, shuffled into line and a 
dirty youth with one eye sprang into the ambulance. He had 
no boots, and his right foot was wrapped in filthy rags. 

"The girl has a rich fiance," shouted somebody, and they 
all laughed. 

Suddenly there was a commotion. Gregory Baldyrev pushed 
through the people and made for the ambulance with staring 
eyes. He jumped in after the youth. 

"He s in a hurry!" they shouted. "Hi, you! Take your turn! 
Be fair! There s a fiery fellow for you!" 

But their cries were cut short when the youth rolled out on 
the snow like a log and Baldyrev appeared with a gun in his 
hand. 

"I ll brain anyone who dares to touch this woman!" he cried. 
"It s a shame! You, the proletariat, who fight for liberty 
you begin by violating a defenseless girl." 

The mob was spellbound, but only for a moment, "Shame 
is a bourgeois prejudice," cried a voice. "The proletariat knows 
no shame!" 

A soldier crept up unobserved by the side of the van and 
swung his clubbed rifle against Gregory s chest. With a groan 
the young man fell back and disappeared. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 209 

His father, who witnessed the whole scene, was overcome 
by fear of what would follow. He felt in a flash the power 
of the mob, the uselessness of defense. Without looking back 
he turned and ran like an automaton towards the archway. 
He heard running feet behind him. He turned and found 
Peter, pale and trembling. They looked at one another like 
criminals who had just committed a crime. In their eyes shone 
fear and shame and hatred. 

They did not speak. After a little time they went back to 
the square, but the ambulance was gone, the crowd had dis 
persed, and from all sides the people were converging on the 
Winter Palace. As they wandered aimlessly about, the Baldy- 
revs were swallowed up in the mob and were separated from 
one another. In their hearts they felt scorn for themselves 
and shame for their cowardice. 

Around them the mob howled and shouted: "To the Palace! 
To the Winter Palace! 55 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE LAST defenders of the Provisional Government were 
killed in the square as Lenin entered the Winter 
Palace. Khalainen and Antonov-Ovshenko, at the 
head of the Finn and Latvian revolutionaries, made a passage 
for him through the mob. Soldiers, workers, criminals re 
leased from the gaols, beggars suddenly cured of their in 
firmities, imperial servants, porters, prostitutes, working women 
and even children, thronged the splendid rooms, which showed 
the marks of the recent battle. The windows were smashed 
and the priceless marbles chipped by bullets. 

A drunkard surrounded by laughing women stood in front 
of an enormous mirror in a carved and gilded frame. He 



210 LENIN 

regarded himself for a long time with great seriousness, adjust 
ing his fur cap and smoothing out his beard. Then a playful 
notion entered his head: he began to execute a folk-dance, in 
the course of which he lurched heavily against the glass. He 
stopped and looked angrily at it, then swore violently and 
kicked the mirror with all his strength. It shivered into frag 
ments and the glass crashed to the floor. The mob howled 
with delight and as though this were a signal, they began to 
destroy everything in sight. 

They broke mirrors and carved vases. They pulled the 
pictures from the walls and stamped upon them. Some boys 
broke up a chair and threw the pieces at a Venetian cut-glass 
chandelier, so that broken glass flew all over the room. Women 
tore down the curtains, stripped the silk coverings off the furni 
ture and pulled tapestries from the walls. A worker shivered 
with his rifle a malachite statue of Cupid. And everywhere 
went the chorus: "Take what has been taken from you!" 

The splintering of furniture and the crash of falling objects 
mingled with the curses of men fighting for booty. Soldiers 
lifted their rifles and shot at the capitals of the marble columns. 
They struck with clubbed rifles at the marble table-tops and at 
cabinets shining with enamel and mosaic. With their bayonets 
they cut the carpets into ribbons and slashed at Chinese and 
Turkish hangings. 

In a small study there hung by itself a portrait of Alexander 
III before which the victorious mob halted for a moment in 
terror. The heavy, immobile face of the Czar faced them in 
the half-darkness opposite the door. His cold blue eyes seemed 
to be alive. The bearded figure stood looking sternly down at 
them, in a black uniform with the white cross of St. George 
upon his chest, and his hand within the lapel of his coat in a 
Napoleonic attitude. 

"Alexander Alexandrovitch, the -Emperor!" cried a fearful 
voice. "The terrible Czar! The father of Nicholas!" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 21 1 

"A murderer of peasants and workers!" shouted others. 
"Away with him!" 

The portrait was dragged down from the wall. Dozens of 
hands descended on the canvas, tearing it with long nails and 
piercing it with fingers, so that blood smeared the white face 
of the Czar. An old woman wrapped round with priceless 
silks jumped upon it furiously so that the stiff canvas collapsed 
in the frame. Even then part of the face remained visible 
and the stern eyes gazed up at them. 

"Do you still threaten us?" screamed an old worker in a mad 
fury. "You sent me to Siberia! You drank my blood and 
drained my health. Now I shall repay! Wait! Stand back!" 

He pushed the crowd away and deliberately defiled the face 
of the hated Czar, as only a slave could defile it. 

"Lenin! Lenin is speaking! Hurry up, comrades!" The 
crowd pushed its way out of the room and joined the seething 
mass in the corridors. Lenin was standing on a table in an 
enormous marble hall which was filled with the stench of 
cheap tobacco and littered with shreds of sunflower seeds. 
He was haranguing the crowd. His overcoat was unbuttoned, 
his face moved from side to side, and he punctuated his sen 
tences with violent movements of his hands. 

"Comrades! Brethren!" he shouted: "You have conquered 
in the capital! The workers of the world will never forget 
your courage and your zeal! Now you will establish a new 
state, the commonwealth of the proletariat. With it you will 
crush your enemies. The struggle will be a long one but you 
must never retreat. Remember that your comrades are now 
conquering Moscow and that others are spilling their blood in 
all the towns of Russia. Yours is the victory, comrades! You, 
and none but you, will govern and judge. You will use for 
yourselves the wealth of the country. There will be no laws 
to bind the freedom of workers, soldiers and peasants. There 
will be no more privileges! No more wars!" 

He was interrupted by thunderous applause. He stood 



212 LENIN 

watchful and unmoved, prepared to express again the hidden 
desires o the mob. At last he silenced them with a gesture. 
"Tomorrow, we shall propose to all the warring nations a 
peace without annexation or indemnity. We shall arrange an 
armistice between ourselves and Germany. The land held by 
the Czars and the bourgeoisie will pass to the peasants!" 

A shout of satisfaction rose from the audience. 

"Factories, banks, railways and ships will pass to the work 
ers. They will rule the land!" 

"Long live Lenin! Lenin!" 

Cheers of joy and enthusiasm broke out again. A rush was 
made at the table and a thousand hands were raised to Lenin. 
Men seized him, raised him on their shoulders and carried him 
as they had been used to carry statues of the saints in religious 
processions. 

At that moment Lenin became a new Messiah, a god, for 
the oppressed and ignorant mob. He waved his cap and 
shouted something but his words were drowned in the storm 
of a thousand voices. 

At last he was surrounded by his bodyguard of Finnish revo 
lutionaries and the sturdy Khalainen stood near him. Then 
there came up through the ranks of the Finns the leaders of 
the July and October revolutions : Trotsky, Zinovyev, Kamenev, 
Unslicht, Dzherzhinsky, Volodarsky, Uritsky, Kalinin, Krassin, 
Yoffe and the rest. 

Lunacharsky approached Lenin and whispered in his ear, 
"Comrade, the proletariat is getting out of control, destroying 
incomparable treasures and carrying away the pictures from 
the Hermitage Gallery." 

Lenin had his eyes upon the savage and excited faces of the 
crowd before them. 

"This is their day," he replied, unmoved. "They don t need 
masterpieces, comrade, and Russia can get on without them 
too. They may do what they like for a while. They may 
have their will and exercise their lust ... for today, comrade." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 213 

Preceded by the Finnish sharpshooters they walked through 
the gorgedus rooms among the maddened crowds of rebels. 
Broken glass splintered under their feet and they tripped over 
torn carpets, marble fragments and pieces of plaster. 

When they came out into the open air a man pushed 
through the soldiers and confronted Lenin. It was Baldyrev, 
in disordered clothing and without his hat, which he had lost 
in the crowd. There was on his face a look of decision, almost 
of despair. His lips trembled violently, his eyes were feverishly 
bright. He spoke through set teeth. 

"Citizen, my son could not stand free people violating a 
defenseless woman. He was wounded. He was taken away 
I don t know why or where. I come to you to demand justice, 
citizen." 

Lenin glanced round. The crowd had been left behind in 
the Winter Palace. They could not hear what their idol was 
about to order. 

"Comrade Antonov," he said. "Assist the first bourgeois 
who appeals to the justice of the proletariat. We have the 
best right to dispense justice because we have endured cen 
turies of servitude. Our right is a summary trial and sum 
mary mercy." 

Lenin entered a motor car and drove away along the river, 
accompanied by Khalainen and a few Finns. In the cars that 
followed were the future People s Commissars and their escort. 

Antonov Ovshenko questioned Baldyrev for particulars of 
the incident. He telephoned to the hospitals from his head 
quarters. And at once he told off two soldiers as an escort for 
Baldyrev to the Red Cross central depot, where his son lay. 

At the approach of night the mob was slowly driven out of 
the Winter Palace, and Antonov, accompanied by Frunze, the 
organizer of the Communist fighting groups, went on a tour 
of inspection over the building. 

After seeing that the rooms on the ground floor were 
emptied they were attracted to the apartments of the Imperial 



214 LENIN 

family by the voices of men and women in song and laughter. 
Antonov pushed open a door and stood aghast. 

It was a large well-lit room, the walls of which were hung 
with gold brocade. It held two enormous beds, some up 
holstered furniture and a white dressing-table littered with 
fragments of a mirror and broken scent bottles. In the corner 
there hung pictures of the saints and a beautifully carved lamp 
held by silver chains; although many of the sacred pictures 
were scattered about the floor. 

It had been the bed-chamber of the Czar and Czarina. Now 
it was in the possession of some drunken sailors and then- 
whores. Some of the women lay, naked and inviting, upon 
the coverlets of yellow silk embroidered with the black eagle 
of Russia. 

"Hullo there, comrade 1 I m a Czarina! Would you like 
to be a Czar? Come over here!" 

Appalling excesses, a dark mystery of madness, took place 
without regard for privacy. 

Frunze knitted his brows. Antonov rubbed his forehead and 
saw in his imagination his own earlier vision of this first day 
of the people s liberation. During sleepless nights in many 
prisons, and in the water-logged trenches he had often looked 
forward to this day. It should have been a day of blood alone, 
of blood raining from the sky and spurting from the ground, 
the blood of the people s enemies. 

He set his teeth and was about to shout something when one 
of the sailors, with a naked girl in his arms, caught sight of 
them. 

"Hullo, comrades!" he cried. "Come and enjoy yourselves. 
Coine on! Today we live and tomorrow we die! Ha! Ha! 
Come on, darling, entertain the guests." 

Frunze looked at Antonov s pale face and his eyes flashed, 
but he restrained the anger aroused within him by this deg* 
radation of the proletariat. 

"Gluttony, drunkenness and lust are their highest ideals," 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 215 

thought Frunze. "The best and boldest minds worked for 
the deliverance of the people. Thousands of them, fighters for 
the new era, perished in prisons, in the Siberian mines, on the 
gallows, in the torture chambers of the Secret Police. Sacrifices 
without number were made all for these drunken beasts and 
naked harlots." 

Antonov s reflections were simple and to the point: "Dogs 
and bitches!" he thought to himself. "I would like to put you 
against a wall and shoot you with my Colt, one after another." 
He was filled with a fierce anger at the sight of the pollu 
tion before him. Through the mists of his bloodshot eyes he 
noticed the ikons in a dark corner of the room. The sorrowful 
and severe face of the Khazan Madonna gazed at him above 
the compassionate eyes of Christ, whose hand was raised in 
blessing. He grew suddenly more pale and he started to look 
at the sacred pictures as though for the first time. His mind 
worked dully in a new direction. 

"See what myths you are. If you had ever existed, you 
would strike us dead together with the swine who wallow in 
abominations before you, on the very day when the poor and 
downtrodden, whom you blessed, are set free. But you are 
silent. You are only a nursery tale, so much wood, so much 
canvas, a mess of gaudy colors. Away with you!" 

He pulled his revolver from its holster and fired again and 
again. With every shot the frames of the ikons were shivered, 
glass fell to the floor, and the sacred figures were torn with 
holes. 

The sailors and the women bolted in panic, the men cursing, 
the women shrieking wildly, leaving behind them rifles, uni 
forms and dresses. One of the women hastily wrapped herself 
in the yellow coverlet embroidered with imperial eagles, 
tripped in its heavy folds, and crawled on all fours to the door, 
chattering in terror. 

In silence Antonov shook hands with his friend, who was 
still cold and furious. His heart was heavy with despair for 



216 LENIN 

he had seen the reality of his most cherished dream. Then 
they continued their inspection of the Winter Palace. 

It was soon empty except for military pickets lounging in 
halls and at the doors. Nodding to the soldiers of his regiment 
Antonov examined everything and saw that no cigarette ends 
had been left smouldering. Finally they reached an inner 
courtyard where they came upon a number of drunken men 
and soldiers staggering up from the cellars, singing, shouting, 
and brandishing bottles. 

Antonov ran down the steps and came suddenly to a halt. 
In the gleam of candle-light he saw before him the feast of the 
conquerors. Men and women were drinking themselves to 
death in a bacchanalian orgy. They were emptying whole bot 
tles down their throats, swaying unsteadily on their feet, 
hiccoughing, and letting the wine dribble down their chins. 
Others were bending over the barrels, noisily drinking the wine 
as it flowed from the spigots. Drunken figures were lying 
everywhere around the cellar, snoring loudly. 

Antonov clenched his fists and shouted harshly: "Get out 
of here!" 

The soldiers of his guard grounded their rifles on the stone 
floor. "Break the barrels!" ordered Antonov. 

The mob, a little sobered by his anger, began slowly to leave 
the cellar. The soldiers went round breaking the bottles with 
rifles and mallets, and smashing the barrel staves, until the 
red and white wines were bubbling over the floor. 

But when at last the soldiers had left the Winter Palace, dark 
figures crept back to the wine-filled vaults. Men with bottles, 
women with buckets, even children with tin mugs in their 
hands came in stealthy crowds from all over the town to steal 
what they could of the wine by the flickering light of matches 
and candles. They did not notice the dead bodies which 
floated now on the tide of the liquor. These were found only 
in the morning when more people came for the last dregs of 
wine and dirt in that ghastly place. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 217 

And as the latest of the robbers slunk away from the Winter 
Palace, placards were posted on the walls exhorting the people 
to sobriety and abstinence in honour of the high ideals of the 
proletariat which had opened an era of happiness in the history 
of humanity. 



CHAPTER XIX 

LENIN PROCEEDED to the Fortress of Saints Peter and Paul. 
Red flags waved from the corners and from the cupola 
of the great cathedral, and from the lofty heights of 
the belfry. The square in front of the church, the ramparts 
and the courtyards of the citadel, were packed to suffocation 
with soldiers, workers and a varied mob drawn by curiosity. 
Lenin was received with storms of cheering. Surrounded by 
his comrades and a strong escort, he made his way to the 
center of the square where a tribune had been prepared for 
him, from which he was to address the people. He mounted 
the tribune and stood surveying the crowd. Every murmur 
ceased. He threw out his arms as if he wanted to embrace the 
whole assembly standing there in passionate expectation of 
his words. 

"Comrades!" he shouted. "For the first time in the history 
of our country Revolution stands within these terrible walls. 
For the first time the Red flag waves over them victoriously. 
For centuries past these walls have looked down upon revolu 
tionariesbut they have been on their way to the scaffold or 
loaded down with shackles in the dungeons of the fortress. 
For centuries past there have been banners dyed in red hanging 
here before the eyes of the ruffians who carried out the com 
mands of the Czars and the bourgeoisie. But these were the 
red and bloody bodies of martyrs who died for liberty 1" 



218 LENIN 

"Death to the Czar!" shouted the people. "Down with the 
bourgeoisie !" 

"The Czar will be tried by the court of workers, peasants 
and soldiers/ continued Lenin, when the shouts had died 
down. "The bourgeois class will be rooted out. It is the most 
terrible enemy you have, the enemy of the proletariat. But it 
will disappear because you have decided on its doom, and from 
it you will take the land and the factories, capital and power. 
The proletariat will be merciless when it secures forever the 
victory of Revolution, Comrades! All things belong to the 
workers! Nothing will be done unless by their will and 
accord!" 

"Death to the Ministers !" a worker cried. "They are in the 
citadel. Hand them over to us!" 

This dangerous and critical demand had hardly died away 
when Lenin, anticipating support for it, took up the challenge. 

"The comrade who spoke then does not express the will of 
the proletariat," he said with one arm raised. "He demands 
a bourgeois revenge upon harmless fools. Kerensky fled like a 
coward. Now he is attempting to raise troops against the 
capital. But we know that already our comrades have spoiled 
his plans. His regiments are melting away, not a single com 
pany will reach Petrograd!" 

"Long live Lenin! Lenin!" The crowd was completely in 
his power. They were wild with enthusiasm and the Finns of 
the bodyguard could not quiet them. 

"Comrades!" Lenin went on at last. "Who are the Ministers 
we have in our power? That poor fool Tereshchenko, that 
puppet, and a few more who could do nothing either right 
or wrong because they had no brains, no will, no power. 

But they must be spared to tell us all the secrets of the 
Czar s rule, the hidden treaties, the whereabouts of confidential 
documents. That will be their service to the proletariat. We 
shall release them for a time because we have need of them. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 219 

But Kerensky s ministers are not more dangerous than the 
sparrows on the roof-tops." 

The crowd roared with laughter. "Lenin !" they shouted, 
"Our Ilyitch! A fine fellow with a tongue like a razor. He s 
no more afraid of the Ministers than he is of a lot of sparrows." 

"Lenin! Lenin!" Others shouted more loudly: "Let the 
sparrows out of their cage! They don t matter to us! We 
spit on them!" 

"Very well, comrades. Your wish will be fulfilled. The 
Ministers will be set free after they have been examined by 
Comrades Trotsky, Preobrajensky, Zalkind and Rykov. Now 
go home after a hard day! Keep your eyes on the enemies of 
the Revolution and the proletariat. Don t let them raise their 
heads again. Long live the Socialist Republic! Long live the 
workers of the world!" 

Lenin stood with his eyes upon the shouting mob. He ex 
amined keenly every face in sight, caught every grimace, noted 
in that confused roar even single words which expressed ideas 
hardly yet conscious in the dull minds of the people. His brain 
became a sensitive microphone vibrating to every feeling 
among them. He saw before him a sea of heads, of wildly 
staring eyes and shouting mouths, but no secret thing was 
hidden from him. He appealed to them with their own ideas, 
fulfilled their most shadowy dreams, called up what lay at the 
depths of the dark souls of slaves. He was the idol of the 
mob. And yet he was the servant of the mob. He knew 
that he could not oppose them for he would be left at once 
without supporters. If he tried to cry a halt he would be 
crushed down at once by their mad stampede for new victims, 
new thrills, new promises. Their demands had the strength 
of forces suddenly released, after having been paralyzed by 
the cruelty of the Government and the frauds of the Church, 
and stultified by the failures of the compromising Socialists. 

The Finn bodyguard and a battalion of the Pavlovsky regi 
ment cleverly edged the crowd away from the tribune. In a 



220 LENIN 

short time they had shepherded the people off the ramparts 
and cleared the square, leaving only a dense mass on the steps 
of the cathedral. These were of a type distrusted by Lenin- 
normal folk, servants, clerks, women with handkerchiefs on 
their heads and shawls around their shoulders who passed 
from one side to the other throughout the course of the Revolu 
tion. "The political jelly" was his name for them. 

For a moment he was going to have them removed with the 
rest until it suddenly occurred to him that they were just the 
right people to spread what he wanted known through the 
town. Here was an opportunity to demonstrate that the vic 
tory of the Party was consummated. 

"Comrades!" he shouted lightheartedly to those about him, 
"Let s look straight into the eyes of our oppressors. Let s go 
into the cathedral." 

He left the square and mounted the steps of the portico. 
With difficulty the crowd made way for him, pressing back 
on either side and crossing themselves piously. Without tak 
ing his cap from his head Lenin entered the great doors, fol 
lowed by an arrogant group of Commissars, Khalainen and 
the Finns, and a number of soldiers. The people were aston 
ished by their irreverence and watched the impious group with 
horror. If the church had been crowded Lenin would not 
have risked an outburst of popular anger but he had cal 
culated very carefully the strength of his escort and he was 
determined to "preach his first sermon" without fear of the 
consequences. During his Siberian exile, as a prisoner and 
as an emigrant, he had often meditated upon its important 
place in the scheme of revolution. 

Now fortune aided him. The gilded doors, known as the 
Czar s Gate, in front of the high altar were suddenly flung 
open and the priests in gorgeous vestments, with processional 
crosses and thurifers, and with the Gospel carried by a fat 
Archdeacon, appeared to welcome the new rulers of the capital. 
Lenin halted and gazed at them scornfully as they advanced, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 221 

chanting, while the pungent odour of incense spread over the 
church. Then the appointed priest began to deliver an address. 

"Did not Christ our Saviour say that all power comes from 
God " As he spoke he eyed with repugnance and fear the 
short thick-shouldered man who wore the cap of a worker 
and whose piercing Mongolian eyes blazed back at him in 
anger. 

"Stop this buffoonery!" Lenin interrupted sharply. "The 
power of the working class comes from no gods but from 
workshops and ploughs, from sweat and blood. Enough of 
your fables about gods! We want no more of that opium 
which binds the will of the people. There are no gods on 
earth or in heaven." 

The priests drew back in panic. One of them lifted his 
heavy robes and stumbled away. Lenin s burst of laughter 
was taken up by the Commissars and soldiers, then suddenly 
re-echoed by the crowd which only a moment before had been 
scandalized by his sacrilege. This change of feeling did not 
escape his notice. At once he drove the point home by a new 
attack on the priests. 

"Even if your God did exist," he stormed, "he would 
abandon you now, you flunkeys of the Czar, you gluttons, 
drunkards, whoremongers and oppressors of the working class. 
If he did exist he would punish me for what I say. But you 
are the ones who are filled with terror when you hear the truth 
at last!" 

Here and there in the crowd men covered their heads and an 
old woman who was about to cross herself dropped her hand. 
Lenin walked up the church towards the altar in the midst 
of a group of Commissars. The tombs of the Czars and of 
their wives were ranged along the walls masterpieces of fine 
marble surmounted by crowns and engraved with inscriptions 
in gold. Khalainen stopped in front of one and struck at it 
with his rifle. At once the soldiers and the mob set about the 
destruction of others, tumbling out of them the coffins which 



222 LENIN 

held the remains of Russia s earlier rulers. They split open 
the coffins, rifled them of jewels and draperies, and dragged 
about the floor of the church, with terrible obscenities, the 
embalmed bodies of the Emperors. 

"Fling those dolls into the Neva," said Lenin benignantly, 
regarding the suddenly courageous mob with all the indul 
gence of a father. They followed his suggestion. The bodies 
were dragged across the square, hoisted on to the ramparts, 
and tumbled, one by one, into the river. 

As the rabble came trooping back to the cathedral again, 
bandying jokes with one another, to complete their work, 
Lenin met them on the steps. He was laughing merrily and 
he held out his hands to the people as they ran up to him. 

"You have thrown away a lot of rubbish, the relics of the 
bourgeoisie," he said. "You have shown the whole world what 
you think of hangmen, even though they have worn crowns." 

"But, comrade!" shouted a fellow in postman s uniform. 
"We ve left Peter the Great inside there. We want to play 
with him as well." 

Lenin laughed unaffectedly. "Ah, comrade," he retorted. 
"You don t like to leave me anything, do you? Will you 
please present me with Peter the Great?" 

"Ha! Ha! A good joke! Yes, you can have Peter the 
Great, body and bones what there is left of him! All for 
Lenin!" 

"Do you know why I want him?" asked Lenin, fingering 
his beard. 

"No! We don t know! Tell us why, Comrade Lenin!" 

"I respect only two Czars, Ivan the Terrible and Peter the 
Great. Yes. I honor them. Both of them bled the boyars 
and the priests: in one word, the bourgeoisie. Ivan protected 
the peasants and Peter was the first revolutionary. They will 
be your masters in the art of destroying your enemies. Do 
you understand me?" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 223 

Lenin smiled mockingly as he looked at the people crowding 
around him. 

"Hurrah/ shouted someone. "We present you with the 
body of Peter the Great and his bowels into the bargain for 
ever." 

Lenin nodded his acknowledgment. His soft hissing laugh 
accompanied the roaring of the people. Then, turning to 
Sverdlov, he said with emphasis: 

"Comrade, have those tombs restored. * 

He was extremely happy. On this, the first day of the 
Revolution, he knew that he was the born leader of the people. 
He knew the goal to which he would lead the masses, blinded 
by hatred. His was the will to achieve. He had learned now 
that he could enforce his will. An elemental force had raised 
him to the heights of power. He would not oppose the people 
and yet he would use their power to drive them along the way 
he had prepared. 

As if to confirm his thoughts, an old countryman with a 
haggard face came up to him. He wore a torn fur coat and a 
cap from which strips of soiled cotton hung down about his 
neck. His uncombed beard, to which bits of straw and 
crumbs of bread were clinging, almost covered a face that was 
grimed with coal dust. He peered up with furtive eyes and 
took off his cap. 

"Your lordship " he began. 

"What makes you call me a Lord?" 

"What else ? You are in power here." 

"Cover your head, comrade. You are in power, not I. And 
I wager that your job is heaving coal on the railway. 5 * 

"You are right. I am a coal-heaver." 

"Well, what do you want to tell me?" 

The man muttered to himself. "People say that Lenin wears 
a crown of gold and carries a white letter on his head. Now 
I see that they are liars. He has neither a crown nor a letter." 

Lenin laughed. "I wear no crown. How could I when I 



224 LENIN 

want to snatch them from the heads of all the emperors in 
the world? But I have the letter, comrade. I have freedom 
for you, equality and a happy life. Now you need not take 
off your cap to anybody, or fear anybody. You are the salt of 
the earth and a power in the land." 

"Then can I stand covered when I talk to my boss?" asked 
the man. 

"Why on earth have you ever done anything else?" 

"Because if I didn t take my hat off he gave it a clout and 
knocked it off. Once he hit me so hard that blood ran from 
my left ear and it has been deaf ever since." 

Lenin was thoughtful for a moment. "Well, then, go to 
your boss at once and pay him back," he said at length. 
"Don t spare him anything." 

The men who listened to this dialogue roared with laughter, 
when the old man rushed away across the square with his 
powerful fists doubled up, roaring, "You wait! I m going 
to shake the soul out of you!" 

Lenin turned to the bystanders, who regarded him with fear 
and admiration. 

"The proletariat must smash its old enemies to pieces," he 
said emphatically. "They must be paid out for their tortures. 
Their punishment will come from the government chosen 
by you, comrades. Meanwhile anybody may avenge himself 
for any injury in the past committed by the bourgeoisie. All 
proletarian crimes will be pardoned. No bourgeois crimes 
will be pardoned." 

"Death to the bourgeoisie!" shouted Trotsky. 

"Death to the servants of the bourgeoisie, the officers and 
civil servants," added Zinovyev. 

"Death! Death!" roared the crowd in fury. 

"If that is your will, comrades and dear brothers, do what 
the proletarian conscience demands," cried Lenin, drowning 
their voices. "I hear you now, saying to yourselves, How can 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 225 

I kill all the officers and civil servants ? Among them may be 
the sons of workers and peasants. " 

"Yes! That is so," cried several. 

"Then you have found the answer in your conscience. I 
hear it. Some of the officers and civil servants are ours, men 
who came from the proletariat and who will serve it. But 
there are others who have been overwhelmed with the favors 
of the Czar, with decorations, money and land stolen from 
you, the oppressed. Death to them! Death to Princes, to 
Bankers, to Generals who have treated us like filthy cattle!" 

The crowd dashed out of the gates of the citadel like leaves 
in the winds of autumn, madly howling, "Death to Princes, 
Bankers and Generals! Death to oppressors!" 

Lenin rubbed his hands, screwed up his eyes, and stood in 
silence. 

"Mob law!" whispered Trotsky, plucking at his beard. 

"Mob law," repeated Lenin. "Terrorism. We have no time 
to lose. The ranks of our enemies must be decimated." 

Soon afterwards Lenin, the Commissars and the escort drove 
out of the gates of the citadel in their motor cars. They met 
at once with a knot of cursing men striking at an enemy of the 
people. Their fists rose and fell, they swayed from the pave 
ment into the street, dragging their victim with them. Lenin 
stood up in his car and saw that they had hold of an old, 
white-haired man, who wore a General s great-coat with scarlet 
facings and the zig-zag silver braid that marked an officer on 
the retired list. His hair was soaked with blood. He stag 
gered under the blows that rained upon him but he was not 
allowed to fall. Lenin knitted his brows in thought. Then 
he sat down and waved on the driver. 

"It is their first day," he muttered. "Their day of wrath." 

The car passed quickly along the Neva. At the palace of 
the Archduke Nicholas Nicholaievitch a gang of youths were 
throwing stones at the lower windows while others were run 
ning down the staircases with their loot. 



226 LENIN 

"It is their first day/ repeated Lenin. 

He began to count the Red flags waving over all the build 
ings and to watch the delirious excitement of the crowds. 
Here and there they passed patrols of soldiers with red badges 
on their sleeves. In other places there were groups of armed 
workers. Somewhere in the distance there were sounds of 
machine gun and rifle fire, the last echoes of the fading battle 
for possession of the capital and the death-knell of Kerensky s 
last defenders, while Kerensky himself, disguised as a peasant 
woman, scoured the neighbouring country for regiments faith 
ful to the ministry which he had betrayed. 

Lenin spoke to Khalainen. "Comrade, let us go to the tele 
graph office. I want to know how things are in Moscow." 



CHAPTER XX 

IN THE Pieski suburb of the capital, surrounded by old lime 
trees, is the famous Smolny Palace and its church, built 
by Rastrelli for the Empress Elizabeth. The walls of the 
palace witnessed the romantic intrigues and the high ambitions 
of the Czarina; they heard the prayers of devout nuns to whom 
the buildings were afterwards assigned; and they hedged in 
the barren lives of the schoolgirls who were known as "the 
Noble Virgins." During that period the gossip of the Court 
related that Alexander II made use of a private key for secret 
visits to the convent. 

A strange chapter in the history of the Smolny Palace opened 
when the Red flag, the symbol of the Revolution, waved over 
its walls. Here the staff of the Bolshevik Party and of the 
Council of People s Commissars resided under the personal di 
rection of Lenin. 
Lenin worked in a large bare room, furnished with a few 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 227 

chairs and a sofa, and a writing table which was heaped with 
papers, books and galley-proofs. Absorbed in the details of 
his work he would stride up and down the room, with his 
hands in the pockets of his coat and his head bent forward. 
He could neither eat nor sleep, but he took care to secure each 
day an hour of solitude, which he called "the drainage period," 
when he weeded out of his mind ideas and half-impressions 
which were not necessary and swept away memories of no 
account. At the same time he tabulated and docketed what 
ever was of value. And when that was done he deepened the 
channel of his mind, let new streams flow into it, and brought 
them to refresh the cells of his great brain. His mind worked 
calmly and with regularity. Nothing seemed able to prevent 
the Dictator of Russia from carrying out his plans unerringly 
as soon as they were conceived. Not for a moment would he 
confess that insurmountable obstacles ever stood in his path. 
There was nothing that he could not overcome; and this was 
not the conviction of a dreamer, for he was the greatest of 
living realists. Every idea of which he approved he carried 
out at once, and if it proved harmful in practice he abandoned 
it without hesitation. 

Nothing existed for him but his goal To reach it he sur 
rendered his privacy willingly, he sacrificed the comforts of 
family life, he put love on one side, he denied all meaning to 
happiness unless it were to work for the sake of the cause. 
With his goal before him he would neither hesitate nor be 
tempted. He would stop at nothing: crime, meanness, false 
hood, treachery were only words for him. At best they were 
means to his end, instruments, landmarks on his way. 

He lived outside the domain of morality for an aim so 
tremendous that no one had ever visualized it before. He was 
a sculptor setting himself to a tremendous task; but he had at 
hand the chisel of his mind and the solid mass of the Russian 
people an uncut stone, one hundred and fifty million Rus 
sians, passive, powerful, apt for guidance and indifferent 



228 LENIN 

whether they lived or died. Nobody before him had ever had 
such an army at his command. The promises that he had 
made had already attracted to him the hearts and hopes of a 
downtrodden people. He was like a new Spartacus who had 
called out the slaves to destroy the Roman praetors. But 
Spartacus perished when quarrels arose in the ranks of his 
followers. Lenin would triumph by subjecting his followers 
to discipline, not by terrorism but by pretending that the mob 
was more important than himself. He would allow the mob 
to enjoy the triumph; he himself would reap the full success 
of the cause. 

And in fact the mob was not at that moment in his power. 
The many-headed Giant Russia was the prey to many forces 
which flung him this way and that: from heroic martyrdom, 
fanatical patriotism and ascetic endurance under one regime 
to a sudden eruption of bloody revolt on the barricades and a 
massacre of the Czar or of any other idolized ruler. It was 
Lenin s task to crush those tides of feeling, to teach the sea 
humbly to lick the shores of Communism. 

Such were the thoughts in the mind of Vladimir Ilyitch 
Lenin, President of the Council of People s Commissars, Dicta 
tor and Messiah of Russia, as he paced up and down his bare 
room in the Smolny Palace. His face was set, he pulled at 
his beard, and his whole nature seemed to writhe under the 
intensity of the thoughts which controlled it. But in fact his 
heart was calm and his steady eyes gauged every event with 
a cool precision. 

He raised his head. Somebody was knocking at the door. 

"Come in!" he cried. 

Khalainen appeared. "A citizeness here wants a moment 
with you." 

"Has she a favour to ask? Is she of the proletariat?" 

"She says she has no demands on you. She is a doctor." 

"Oh, well ! Show her in, comrade." 

There came into the room a small, thin woman of forty-five, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 22 p 

dressed in black with a mourning veil around her face. When 
she saw Lenin she smiled spontaneously. 

"So my intuition was right," she exclaimed. "It is Vladimir 
Ilyitch our serious Vola. " 

Lenin was on his guard. "Volar" he repeated. "I was 
called Vola only in one place " 

"at my father s home. My father, Dr. Ostapov." 

"Helen?" he cried softly. "Helena Alexandrovna?" 

"Yes," she whispered. There were tears in her eyes. "You 
would not recognize me easily. There has been much water 
in the Volga since we parted at Samara." 

"There has indeed," he agreed. "How much everything has 
changed! It seems as though centuries had passed. And you 
are in mourning. Is it for your father?" 

"No. My father died long ago. So did my husband. This 
is for my son who was killed in Galicia during the retreat of 
General Brussilov s army." 

"Then whom did you marry?" 

"Dr. Remizov. And I am a doctor myself." 

Lenin laughed mockingly. "So that is what happened to 
you," he said. "And you said that you would never forget me. 
But all things change, all things pass away, Helena Alex 
androvna. Will you sit down?" 

He placed a chair for her, and then, sitting at the writing 
table, he looked at her carefully, examining her face, marked 
with lines of suffering, and her whole person from head to 
foot. He remembered her mouth and saw that it was still 
fresh and red. He noticed a lock of her fair hair visible 
beneath her hat. And she gazed back at him very calmly, 
without fear and without adulation, as a woman of experience 
might look upon a child. 

"So that is what happened," he repeated. 

"I waited for you a long time. Then my hopes died away 
forever. And now I see that I was right." 



230 LENIN 

"You do, do you?" He smiled quizzically as if he were 
prepared to listen patiently. 

"We were very fond of you, all of us were/ 5 she went on. 
"We followed your career. At times we heard news of our 
friend Ulyanov, but always he disappeared again." 

"Yes," said Lenin bitterly. "Prisons, conspiracies, life in 
hiding, exile in Siberia, emigration the cursed emigration that 
corroded my soul." 

She nodded: "Yet we heard that our Vola Ulyanov had 
become a powerful journalist who signed his name Ilyin and 
Tulin. Then I heard that you had married in Siberia." 

"Of course," he drawled. "And then you decided that I 
would not come back to you. Eh?" 

"No, I felt that much earlier." 

"Why?" 

"Because I saw from your articles and pamphlets that noth 
ing mattered to you except your aims. I had always suspected 
it but, like a woman, I wanted to have a small and personal 
aim of my own. You see, I am still full of bourgeois 
prejudices." She smiled to herself. 

"At the moment," said Lenin, "that is the most innocent 
of the bourgeois prejudices." 

"At the moment?" she asked. "How can women ever be 
otherwise?" 

"Well," he replied. "I won t cast about for obscure examples. 
I will take my wife, Nadezhda Konstantynovna. For her only 
the general aim exists. For her I am only a vehicle to carry 
herself and the whole human race to its goal." 

"Is it possible?" she asked. 

"I stake my life on it that Nadezhda Konstantynovna will 
have the courage and the spirit to deliver a political speech 
over my grave without a single tear. She will exploit my death 
as propaganda." 

There was pride in his voice and she recoiled from it. 

"That is appalling," she exclaimed, raising her hands. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 231 

"But it is entirely fitting in the wife of Lenin/ he replied 
grimly. 

A silence followed which Madame Remizova was the first to 
break. "For a long time/ she said, "I did not know that the 
pseudonym of Lenin was yours. I had to verify it, and I 
wanted to see you again." 

"Well, Helena Alexandrovna, the name of Lenin was taken 
in honor of you." He laughed carelessly. "Have you any 
thing to ask of me? I shall be glad to do anything for you, 
believe me. They say I have millions of faults but I have 
one virtue I do not forget my old friends." 

"There is only one thing I could ask. I am the doctor in 
charge of an orphanage and I heard today that the heads of all 
die institutions were about to be changed. Can you see to it 
that I shall not be dismissed? I have always carried out my 
duties conscientiously and I want to continue with them. I 
have a great influence over the children." 

Lenin wrote a few words on a slip of paper and passed it 
over to her. 

"Will you carry this devil s bargain about with you?" he 
said jokingly. "It may come in handy in a hundred ways. 
Meanwhile there are more important places than orphanages. 
When I begin my work of reconstruction I shall turn to you." 

She stood up to go, but he prevented her. "Would you 
mind staying here for a moment ?" he asked. "It is a long time 
since I ve talked to anybody like this. I feel as if I were talk 
ing out loud to myself without choosing my words and with 
out having to take my listener into account. I know you 
understand me." 

"Years ago I understood you," she replied. 

"Years ago things were different! I was completely under 
the impression caused by the death of my brother Alexander, 
and you were also." 

"Oh," she said softly. "After we parted I read a pamphlet 
about the way in which the attempt on Alexander III was 



232 LENIN 

organized. It was your brother who thought of making a 
bomb in the shape of a book which the conspirators could 
throw into the Czar s carriage. Those brave revolutionaries 
would be alive today if they had not been betrayed." 

Lenin nodded and walked across the room. With his hands 
in his trouser pockets he began to speak as if to himself, softly. 

"His death, the tears of my mother, the persecution of the 
gendarmes, those frequent searches, the mockeries of my teach 
ers, the intrigues of my rich schoolmates, the stupid and 
abominable moral teachings of our priest, awakened in me a 
great hatred and a desire for revenge. Yes, I educated myself 
to avenge the death of my brother and the oppression of our 
people. I brought myself up to be an iron leader. I rejoiced 
on the day that I saw a mob of cooks, porters and laborers 
drag the embalmed body of Alexander III along the gutter. 
The crash of his empty skull where it hit the pavement sound 
ed like music in my ears. That scene I dreamt of twice in 
my youth and my dream was exactly fulfilled in my waking 
hours." 

"I heard about it," whispered Helena. "I was struck with 
fear. The people might have turned against you." 

Lenin laughed grimly. "Peter the Great found Russia an 
untamable stallion and he forced it to do tricks like a horse 
in a circus. I can do the same. The mob and the whole 
Russian people will be forced to spit upon the idols which 
they thought divine until yesterday." 

Helena listened in silence. Lenin stopped suddenly and 
looked at her. 

"You used to be a follower of the People s Will," he said. 
"You wanted me to bomb the Czar, didn t you? Have you 
remained a Social Revolutionary or have you passed over to the 
Social Democrats?" 

"I have nothing to do with the Social Democrats," she 
replied. 

"Why not?" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 233 

"I don t believe in theory, compromise and evolutionary 
Socialism. That is the long way round, and longer for Russia 
than for any other nation." 

"You are right," he shouted, rubbing his hands. "I felt the 
same from the moment when I first studied Marx." 

"I have remained a convinced Social Revolutionary/ she 
went on. "But I don t belong to the Party, for I am no hand 
at conspiracies." 

"Do you follow Victor Chernov and those who want a Con 
stitutional Assembly?" he asked, knitting his brows. 

"Names do not matter," she replied. "The point is that 
Russia is a vast field in which a hundred million ploughmen 
should be happy first of all. Russia belongs to them and 
always will." 

"No, she won t," exclaimed Lenin angrily. "She won t be 
long to them. That is the whole idea of Chernov and his 
gang. For eighty years they have always created agitation and 
in moments of crisis they have always gone into hiding." 

"What are you saying?" she protested with spirit. 

"I repeat it, Madame. You must not believe the scribblings 
of these men. They are the blackmailers of the Revolution. 
Like the Social Democrats they have neither clear ideas nor 
perseverance. They put their faith in altruism, in the com 
mon sense of governments and of the landed bourgeoisie. They 
are blind! They will not succeed. If they did they would 
produce at once a new bourgeois peasant class, which no revo 
lutionary could manage." 

"But what do you want a new Revolution for if the mass 
of the peasantry already holds the whole land?" she asked in 
astonishment. 

He walked up and down the room, heaving his shoulders 
and shaking his bald head as he replied harshly: "There are 
periods of violent change in history. Something breaks and a 
bottomless pit opens suddenly before mankind. And then what 
should you do? Stand hopelessly and wait? Wait for what? 



234 LENIN 

For the moment when some other agency bridges the chasm 
or until its mouth closes? No, that certainly never happens. 
Never. In Russia for many years past we have had a chasm 
before us and we have stopped, helpless and without a plan 
for bridging it. I am the first one to produce a plan." 

He looked at Helena and added quickly, "I m of no account 
here personally, of course. Yet I consider myself the man in 
whom all the ideas and the desires of the oppressed are 
summed up, and that is why I have ventured so far." 
"What are you going to do?" she asked in a whisper. 
"I am going to rouse the dormant energies of our people, of 
which the chief reservoir is among the simple village folk. 
When the first fury of release is over, the deeper powers they 
possess will come to light. They will soon be roused; and 
then our people will leap across the chasm, calling upon all 
the other people of the earth to follow them. Nobody will 
stand in their way, Lena, because their impulse will be love 
and a care for the happiness of mankind. And if anything 
does oppose us, we shall crush it by the strength of materialistic 
humanity." 

At this moment a number of the comrades came in and 
Helena had to depart. Lenin shook off with difficulty the im 
pression made upon him by her visit, which has caused him 
to discuss ideas which he had not expressed in public for a 
long time. 

"What news is there?" he asked, and listened attentively to 
reports on the agitation of other Socialist groups for the im 
mediate calling of a Constitutional Assembly to accept a proj 
ect of land reform and to make peace with Germany. 

"Yes," he muttered. "They want to anticipate us. That 
won t do, comrades. An hour ago wires were sent to Berlin 
and to our Commander-in-Chief proposing peace. It is now 
being negotiated. The matter cannot be entrusted to any As 
sembly. The Council of People s Commissars must meet to 
night." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 235 

As soon as the men had left the room, Lenin had himself 
put through by telegraph to General Headquarters at the front. 
Standing near him by the apparatus were Stalin and Ensign 
Krylenko. The exchange of messages lasted nearly an hour, 
for the Commander-in-Chief, General Dukhonin, refused to 
carry out the orders of the Commissars to make peace with 
Germany. He demanded authorization from the central Gov 
ernment acknowledged by the whole of Russia. Lenin smiled 
as he read Dukonin s answer. At once he dictated a final 
message : 

"General Dukonin. The Government of the Russian Re 
public dismisses you from the post of Commander-in-Chief. 
Ensign Krylenko is appointed to succeed you." 

Lenin told the operator to leave the room. When the door 
had closed he gave Krylenko further orders. 

"Comrade, go to Headquarters at once with a detachment of 
sailors and assume command. The general must be killed. If 
any disorders occur in the army, do not hesitate to carry out a 
mass execution. There must be no half -measures. 5 * 

At the meeting of the Council of People s Commissars Lenin 
outlined his conditions of peace with Germany and produced 
his list for the peace delegation which was to be headed by 
Leon Trotsky. The comrades listened with amazement to the 
names of almost unknown men: Bryliant, a chemist; Ostash- 
kov, an illiterate peasant; Pietrovsky, a surgeon-barber; von 
Schneur, a secret agent of the Czarist Intelligence Service; 
Mstislawsky, a revolutionary student of Karakhan; Bisenko, 
an elementary school-teacher; Rosenfeld-Kamenev, an obscure 
journalist and emigrant. These were the people who were to 
negotiate in the name of "Holy Russia" with the Germans at 
Brest-Litovsk; and the German delegates would be cultured, 
patriotic men, diplomats, scholars and generals. 

A few of the Commissars protested. One of them even 
shouted in despair, "We are selling Russia!" Lenin noticed the 
feeling of uneasiness and indignation in the room. 



236 LENIN 

He looked meaningly at Dybyenko. The huge sailor left the 
room at once. A minute later the door was flung open by 
Khalainen, who was at the head o the Finns. After him came 
the seaman Zhelezniakov, the murderer of the Kronstadt 
officers, with a squad of armed sailors. They came to a halt, 
their rifles grounded with a crash, and they stood stiffly to 
attention. 

There was not another sound in the room. Slavish fear sat 
upon the faces of the forty-two members of the Executive Com 
mittee who attended the meeting of People s Commissars. 

Lenin alone was openly cheerful. His eyes shone with ex 
hilaration. 

"In accordance with the decision of the Council and of die 
Executive Committee, he announced casually, "we are opening 
negotiations with Germany. Comrade Trotsky will head the 
delegation. Your consciences are quite clear, comrades. Re 
member that any treaty with the imperialistic German Gov 
ernment will be only a scrap of paper, because we shall soon 
sign another with the German proletariat and the government 
of Karl Liebknecht." 

Although the consciences of the comrades were effectually 
silenced the peace negotiations were by no means successful. 
The practised diplomats who represented Germany saw very 
clearly what the situation was in Russia, and they proposed 
such hard terms that even the Bolshevik envoys did not dare 
to accept them without permission from Petrograd. This was 
a blow for the new rulers of the Russian Empire. Lenin pon 
dered over the situation for a long time. He had to persuade 
his colleagues that peace at any price was necessary to give a 
breathing space to the Revolution at a moment when the 
Council of opposition groups among the Socialists was still in 
existence and when the patriotic fervour of Kornilov and Alex- 
eiev was still alive in the provinces. 

But the very delay was a help to the Germans and Austrians 
who drove the disorganized Red army before them. In the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 237 

south they invaded the Ukraine, in the north they captured 
Pskov. To put pressure on the Bolsheviks they sent their aero 
planes more and more frequently over Petrograd itself. 

Still the President of the Council of People s Commissars de 
bated the problem. "We must become the only masters of the 
situation," he decided. "The Constitutional Assembly is a 
danger. We must scatter it to the four winds." But careful 
preparations were needed for so bold a stroke. For one whole 
night Lenin walked up and down his room. "When we have 
the most vital and most active social classes on our side we need 
fear nothing/ he decided. "When that moment comes we can 
carry into effect at once the decision of the Council" 

Next morning it became known on all parts of the front and 
in the most distant provinces., wherever telegraph offices ex 
isted, that the Council of People s Commissars had declared its 
policy. The work was done by a sure and experienced hand. 
The manifesto of the new Government granted permission to 
the troops to make peace with the enemy as best they could 
and to return home. It permitted the peasants to seize the 
land and property of the landowners without waiting for the 
decree of the Constitutional Assembly. It recognized the prin 
ciple that peoples of non-Russian origin might detach them 
selves from the former Empire and establish their own Gov 
ernments. Finally, it invited the workers to take over all capi 
talist enterprises and to conduct them with their own resources. 

Meanwhile Trotsky and his brother-in-law, Kamenev, tried 
to stop the German offensive by interrupting the parleys, by 
evading a settlement, by introducing specious but meaningless 
phrases into the protocol. 

Both Lenin and Trotsky were waiting for the results of the 
elections to the Constitutional Assembly. It soon became evi-, 
dent that the Peasant Party was winning and that the Bolshe 
viks would not have a majority in the Chamber which was to 
establish a government and to rule the country. 



238 LENIN 

Lenin rubbed his hands and laughed when he heard the 
news. 

"Very well. We shall achieve our victory in the normal 
way." 

"The normal way?" queried Trotsky. 

"Yes!" exclaimed Lenin. "The normal way is through blood 
and civil war, crushing all our enemies at once. It is more 
radical than-4:he slimy path of compromise and discussion." 

"We can t defeat the Assembly," remarked Trotsky. 

"Don t talk nonsense, comrade/ retorted Lenin sharply. "A 
few months ago the Duma said the same of the Czar. By the 
way, see to it that the Czar and his family are moved from 
Tobolsk to Ekaterinburg. I was thinking it over last night. 
We should have him near us so that we can lay our hands on 
him at any moment. Ekaterinburg is a good place. We have 
steady people there in the Workers Council the Yurovskys, 
Voikov and Beloborodov/ 

"Yes, you are right," Trotsky agreed. "But, Jlyitch, can we 
attack the Assembly?" 

Lenin halted before him with clenched fists. "Why can t 
you shake off those superstitions of yours?" he hissed. "Some 
people prostrate themselves before statues and crucifixes, 
others before institutions and officials. There is darkness, 
blindness, slavery all around me!" 

He spat on the floor with disgust. But a moment later he 
was calm again, even smiling, and he touched his companion 
on the arm. 

"Physician, heal thyself," he said. "Remember there are no 
people and no institutions on earth possessed of immortality. 
All things must die. All things turn to dust. Even your Ye- 
hovah knew that, and he was a wise God, for he had scourged 
the people." 

Trotsky went away thoughtful and uneasy. Lenin remained 
alone, walking up and down the room snapping his fingers 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 239 

together. Finally he half-opened the door and shouted for 
Khalainen. 

"Hurry, comrade/ 5 he said when the stolid Finn appeared. 
"Bring Felix Dzherzhinsky to me. Tell him to come with 
men whom he can trust absolutely." 

Khalainen went away and Lenin began to walk up and 
down again, humming a song and whistling. He was quite 
calm and did no more thinking. He refreshed himself with a 
glass of tea, sat at his writing table, unfolded a newspaper, and 
settled down to solve a chess problem which he found in it. 
His face was unperturbed; an easy smile passed across his 
thick lips. As the clock outside struck midnight somebody 
knocked at the door. 

"Come in," cried Lenin, standing up. 

Dzherzhinsky opened the door. His lean face twitched con 
vulsively and his knotted fingers writhed together. 

"Do you want me?" he asked, in a soft but piercing voice. 
"I have reliable men with me, Yuritsky, Volodarsky, and 
Peters. We used to be together in the Intelligence Service." 

"Yuritsky?" asked Lenin with his hand on one side. 

"Yes," replied Dzherzhinsky with a grimace that passed for 
a smile. "He started the massacre of the officers. He also sent 
the sailors to kill Shingarev and Kokoshkin, the sick Ministers 
who were in hospital. By his orders, also, the sailors killed 
Ivan Goremykin and his family in Socha. That s the very 
man for you." 

Lenin shook hands with them all. 

"I shall be quite frank with you," he said. "Sit down and 
listen to me. What I say now must be kept secret for the time 
being. I expect that a civil war will break out before long, a 
very Russian war in which even one s own people will not be 
spared, I wonder if you understand? You are not Russians, 
but I assure you it will be an undreamt-of war. The days of 
Pugatchev were nothing in comparison." He laughed aloud 
and continued: "To win a war, even a civil war, it is necessary 



240 LENIN 

to have an army. We have any number of bayonets and of 
men to use them, but we have no officers. The other side will 
have plenty of officers. Comrades, your work is to get hold 
of all officers who are now unemployed or in hiding. You 
must get them on our side, either willingly or by force." 

"Good!" said Dzherzhinsky. "That is just what we have 
been waiting for. Don t worry, Vladimir Ilyitch. We shall 
win them over with horror, hunger and imprisonment. If they 
have arms or resist, we shall slaughter them. If they have 
a revolver it shall be reported as a howitzer and a pen 
knife will become a poisoned dagger. We shall establish a 
secret counter-revolutionary society and draw thousands of 
white officers into it. When we have ensnared them we shall 
make a selection: the best will be given to you, the remainder 
to the grave. We can easily make them obedient. Why else 
have they mothers, sisters, wives and children all hostages for 
our dungeons. The officers will have a choice. They can be 
faithful to our army or else see their families die. And for 
those who refuse to serve, Peters will prepare a special torture 
according to the recipe of the Grand Inquisitor." 

"Yes," said Lenin. "I see that you understand me, comrades. 
And now we have other matters to discuss of equal importance. 
Listen. You must have people ready to destroy Nicholas the 
Bloody and his family. I want a few reliable terrorists for any 
emergency." 

"Won t the Czar be tried?" asked Volodarsky with the same 
callousness. "They had a trial in the French Revolution." 

Lenin paused before he replied. Then he said decisively: 
"It would be a dangerous tragi-comedy to try the Czar in pub 
lic. We don t know how he might behave. Supposing he said 
enough to win over the people? Or again, he might die a 
hero s death. We have had enough martyrs and enough saints 
already. And we can t let him live, for he might be rescued 
by his German or English relations, or by counter-revolution- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 241 

aries who would make fetishes of him and his family* Is that 
clear?" 

"Yes, we understand/ 5 said the comrades. 

"Now can I rely on you not to betray one word of this?" 
His sharp eyes swept the circle of faces. "I promise you that 
the proletariat will not forget your services in defense of its 
cause. The proletariat can give splendid rewards and it can 
smash to pieces all men who betray it. Now go. Begin your 
work tomorrow. We have no time to lose." 

After Lenin had cordially ushered them out he crossed over 
to the window and stood looking out. He stretched himself 
lazily and yawned. He looked up at the gilded cross of the 
cathedral, shining brightly in the moonlight. 

"Away with you!" he said aloud, with the tolerant smile of 
a conqueror. "You weigh upon the earth too heavily. And 
what is your message? Martyrdom and humility when we 
want life and rebellion." 

His eyes fell upon the clock. It was nearly one. 

"This is the hour of ghosts and visions," he thought. "Yet 
they do not come." 

He closed his eyes and shuddered as the face of Dzherzh- 
insky came into his mind. It was pale and vacant with sunken 
eyes, twitching eyelids, and^ twisted mouth. Then Lenin 
reused himself and laughed. 

"There is a comrade who will remain firm as a rock," he 
said* 

At that moment the door creaked slightly and the greasy 
hangings were pushed aside. A man slid gently into the room. 

"What do you want?" asked Lenin. His eyes suddenly lit 
up. He remembered the road in the Tatra mountains and the 
young fanatic who came to give him terms. 

"What do you want?" he repeated, watching the man care 
fully and moving slowly towards his writing table. 

"Do you recognize me? I am Selaninov. I met you at 



242 LENIN 

Poronin, comrade. I have come now to warn you once more. 
If you attack the Constitutional Assembly " 

He did not finish his sentence for a bell rang loudly and 
angrily in the corridor. Lenin had cautiously reached the table 
and pressed the bell Immediately Khalainen and the sentries 
rushed in. 

"Take him away/ said Lenin carelessly. "He threatened 
me." 

The Finns seized Selaninov and dragged him from the room. 
Lenin threw himself upon the sofa and fell asleep at once, 
worn out with the labors of the day. 

He did not even hear a revolver shot beneath his window 
and the voice of Khalainen, "Throw the body into the street." 

Far away a clock struck two. The hour of ghosts was past. 



CHAPTER XXI 

AFTER a time the Baldyrev family found peace, or if not 
peace at least the possibility of existence. And bare 
existence, in that period of blood and storm, was the 
highest happiness. 

Their flat was confiscated by the Communists as soon as they 
had control over Petrograd, but fortunately enough it was 
granted to men who had been employed in the Baldyrev fac 
tory. They had always been on good terms with Baldyrev 
and they did not treat him badly now, but left him two rooms 
while they occupied the remainder with their wives and 
children. 

The Baldyrevs had to endure it patiently when they heard 
their china being broken, their furniture overturned, and the 
constant running about of undisciplined children. They heard, 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 243 

too, the quarrels of the women over their own settees and 
carpets and their angry rivalry for the use of the kitchen. 

Gradually they grew accustomed to the changed situation. 
They went on living quietly, careful not to show themselves 
too much abroad or to talk with strangers. They also schooled 
themselves not to object when they saw their belongings being 
taken out of the flat and sold in the town. 

"We can t do anything about it," whispered Baldyrev to his 
wife. "Don t worry, Masha. When this storm is over we shall 
get back all that we have lost. I don t blame the workers. 
What can the poor devils do? They confiscated everything, 
and now they are starving. The factories are derelict, and 
there is no work being done because all sorts of committees 
are consulting and quarreling together. There is nobody who 
can pay for work done, there is no bread, no meat and no 
butter on the market. The people are simply compelled to 
steal and to sell their booty. The Lord be praised, nobody in 
terferes with us, and we have got at least a shelter for ourselves 
and the boys," 

He crossed himself devoutly and folded his wife in his arms. 

"You are right, darling," she whispered. "Yesterday when 
I was out hunting for some porridge and milk I met the wife 
of General Ushakov. She is having a terrible time. The Red 
Guards burst in on them day after day, ransacked the flat, 
abused them, hit them, and at last they took the poor man 
away with them. Madame Ushakova has been hunting for 
him all over Petrograd for two weeks." 

"Has he been killed?" asked Baldyrev with a blanched face. 

"That s what she thinks. And yet she goes on hoping. 
These are terrible times. They are a punishment from Heaven 
upon us." 

But despite their fears the Baldyrevs were almost happy. 
Late in the night, after the storming of the Winter Palace, 
Baldyrev and Peter had found Gregory in hospital with "a badly 
bruised chest. Armed with a permit from Ovshenko they 



244 LENIN 

moved him home and from that time the family lived quietly 
together. All their money in the bank passed into the hands 
of the conquerors, but two days later it became nearly value 
less, for the Council of People s Commissars abolished the 
monetary system, making their stocks and shares worthless. 
Still, the family possessed a fair quantity of silver, jewels, 
clothes, linen and furs, which they bartered with the peasants 
who came to town. 

In this way they supported themselves. Madame Baldyreva 
cooked their modest meals on an oil lamp. She never went 
near the kitchen, which became the scene of fiercer and fiercer 
quarrels between the workers wives; and it was not long 
before the men joined in the fray. In the evenings, after the 
workers had come back from their endless meetings, the flat 
would often be in an uproar. The Baldyrevs had to listen to 
their raised voices and their obscenities. They had to endure 
the thumping of heavy furniture thrown about and the crash 
of broken glass until late at night. Sometimes, too, they were 
called in to dress the wounds which resulted from the battle. 

Fighting was soon a matter of routine and the drinking of 
spirits made it worse. Although alcohol was prohibited, 
nevertheless the all-powerful soldiers, pretending to search for 
counter-revolutionaries, began to plunder the wine stores and 
the shops of the Spirit Monopoly, thereafter selling their booty 
openly in the streets. In all of this the intelligent and cultured 
Baldyrevs had to acquiesce. Madame Baldyreva noticed that 
her weak and fickle husband changed under the blows of for 
tune and that there was now a closer understanding between 
him and his sons who for some years had been scandalized by 
their family life. For that reason she often felt that she was 
quite happy again as she had been during the early years of 
their married life. She cheerfully put up with all her troubles, 
and she was always busy, although the men did as much work 
for her as they could. 

It seemed extraordinary that old established services like the 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 245 

water supply and the power stations began to go wrong as soon 
as they were controlled by the Bolsheviks. More than once 
both of them failed together. Then the water and drainage 
pipes froze and burst. The young engineers had to mend 
them, meanwhile carrying water in buckets from the hydrants. 
They waited for hours in queues for oil, coal, bread and other 
victuals distributed according to the new law. More than that, 
they succeeded in mobilizing all the workers of the house in 
a communal effort to keep the house in order and to mend 
whatever went wrong. 

This last scheme lasted only for a month and then it ended 
in disaster. A worker who needed a length of pipe for the 
house took it from a machine in his factory. Somebody who 
saw the theft reported it to the Bolshevik Commissar; at once 
the worker was arrested, charged with stealing the property 
of the people, and executed. Soon afterwards the rooms occu 
pied by the Baldyrevs were searched and all their valuables 
seized. Because Peter had ordered the worker to procure the 
length of pipe he was imprisoned in the dungeons of the Ex 
traordinary Commission to Combat Counter-Revolution, Sabot 
age and Speculation the notorious Cheka. At his trial the 
Public Prosecutor, who was an ex-dustman and a perpetual 
drunkard, threatened him with death and even put a revolver 
to the young man s forehead. But fortunately enough the 
workers of his factory made an application for his release and 
after a fortnight he returned home. 

Even in his own home he would only make allusions to what 
he had experienced in the Cheka building, and he refused to 
go into details, for they knew that the families in the flat were 
capable of eavesdropping at the keyhole; already there had 
been occasions when they had denounced one another. But 
sometimes when they took a walk together Peter would speak 
more freely. The conditions of the Supreme Court in which 
proletariat justice was dispensed cried to Heaven for vengeance. 
Every day suspects were shot out of hand; as in the days of 



246 LENIN 

the Czarist police,, agents-provocateurs were put in among the 
prisoners; bribes were taken for the release of prisoners; pris 
oners were beaten and tortured with a brutality unheard-of 
even in the worst of the old days. 

"Everybody who goes there should have a coffin ordered and 
a Mass said for him at once/ said Peter with a wry smile. "It 
is only by luck that anybody ever comes out alive." 

They looked at one another with horror in the depths of 
their eyes. 

"Times are bad. They are getting worse/ said Baldyrev. 

Amidst all his troubles, the searches, the frequent panics, the 
continual fear both for himself and for his family, Baldyrev 
seemed to have completely forgotten the woman whose influ 
ences had so completely dominated him. One day, as he went 
along the Neva Prospect, he remembered the charming Ta- 
mara. On the spur of the moment he crossed the river and 
made for the house where, a year before, he had installed the 
dancer in a comfortable flat. His first surprise, after he had 
rung the bell, was to see the door opened by the maid whom 
he had known a year before; although a new law forbade the 
employment of hired labor under the severest penalties. 

"Tamara takes risks," he thought. 

When he asked if the dancer was in, the maid dropped her 
eyes demurely and replied: "Madame is in but she cannot 
receive anybody. The Commissar of our district has just come, 
so " 

Baldyrev understood everything. He heard laughter within 
the flat, the coquettish chatter of Tamara, an excited man s 
voice and even, it seemed to him, the sound of kisses and the 
clink of glasses. He looked into the hall and smiled. He saw 
on the hat-rack a Swedish leather coat and a wide-brimmed 
leather cap, the favourite uniform of the new Commissars, 
and a sabre and a portfolio, the invariable symbols of the new 
Communist power. 

He laughed aloud. "Tell Madame that I came to wish her 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 247 

good luck," he said. "And I can t tip you these days. I have 
no money." Then he went away, but when he had descended 
one flight, he stood and rocked with silent laughter. It was 
the funniest thing that had happened for a long time. 

He had a long walk home, for all taxi-cabs had been con 
fiscated and the trams were out of action, while the drivers 
debated at their meetings, or left their work to deliver radical 
speeches in favour of the Council of People s Commissars and 
its President, Comrade Lenin. 

He arrived home tired in the evening, but he held his wife s 
troubled head in his hands and kissed her joyfully. 

"Have no fear, Masha," he said. "All is well. I have done 
with everything that troubled your life and debased my own." 

A week later Baldyrev and his sons were summoned to the 
Labour Commissariat, where a worker in a leather cap interro 
gated them. 

"Well, bourgeois," he asked brutally, "would you like to 
serve the proletariat? We need your knowledge for the time 
being until we can get hold of our own experts. If you don t 
want to serve us, we ll take away your ration cards, for only 
those who work may eat." He laughed heartily. "That s what 
our Lenin said. Well, do you agree ? Remember, if you refuse 
you ll be punished, and we have a lot of punishment left for 
the enemies of the Revolution." 

The Baldyrevs exchanged glances. Then Peter replied for 
all of them. 

"We accept your proposal," he said. "But we are not ene 
mies of the Revolution." 

"I know you, you cunning dogs," the Commissar shouted. 
"Nearly every one of you carries on with the sabotage and boy 
cott of proletarian Russia. The Social Revolution is not what 
you want at all, you want to oppress us as you used to. Eh?" 

Baldyrev could no longer control himself. "Comrade," he 
said with a conciliatory smile, "you were a worker or a fore 
man yourself. I can see it from your hands. Now tell me 



248 LENIN 

frankly and honestly: did the bourgeois in the office ever talk 
to you as you talk to us now?" 

The worker did not expect such a question, and for a time 
it nonplussed him. But after a moment he resumed his arro 
gant manner. He threw over to them a slip of paper with 
the address of the factory where they had to report next day, 
and so their work for the proletariat began. 

With few exceptions the workers passed entire days outside 
their workshops. They debated and argued fiercely about how 
to control the factory, they worked out fantastic schemes for 
running the concern with their own resources, they fixed their 
own hours of work, they sang the Internationale; and in the 
meantime they mutilated the machines or raided the stores for 
the raw material. 

Very soon the engineers, who demanded some sort of effi 
ciency from the workers, became very unpopular and were 
accused of using bourgeois methods. Fortunately for the Baldy- 
revs, the matter was taken up by the Supreme Commissar of 
Labour, an intelligent man, who summoned both parties be 
fore him. He listened patiently to the accusations of the work 
ers and to the explanations of the engineers. The case aroused 
widespread interest. The room and the corridors outside were 
packed with workers who smoked and gossiped, cheered their 
representatives and repeated the old catchwords, "Long live 
Lenin! Long live the Revolution." 

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and the leader 
of the proletariat himself came into the room surrounded by 
his Finns. After exchanging a few words with the Commissar, 
Lenin sat down. He first scrutinized carefully the intelligent 
faces of the engineers standing before him, then turned to their 
accusers who were endlessly repeating a nonsensical rigmarole 
of phrases picked up from the flood of Bolshevik literature. 
They had no doubt what would be the verdict of the Dictator 
and he smiled at them in a friendly fashion. 

"Comrades!" he called in a harsh voice, "clear the room at 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 249 

once." Khalainen and the Finns were well practised in their 
art and soon there were only a few spectators left. 

Then Lenin asked the accusers what work had been com 
pleted in the factory during the period since the engineers had 
taken charge. One of the men read out a list of the work that 
had been done. 

"Why did the work stop?" asked Lenin. 

"Because we had important meetings to attend. Also we ran 
out of raw materials, for the stores of the factory were open to 
the comrades. * 

"What has the comrade engineer to say to that?" asked 

Lenin. 

"It is true/ replied Baldyrev. "Materials were missed from 
the stores. Why that happened I don t know, for the control 
of the stores is not my business. I am only technical coun 
sellor. If I had some bronze, copper and steel, I could mend 
the machines. Also I pointed out to the factory committee that 
the men should work for six hours a day at least if the factory 
was to be productive." 

"And how many hours did the comrades work?" asked 
Lenin. 

"The committee arranged that," Baldyrev replied. "You 
must ask them, Comrade President." 

Lenin nodded to the accuser, who looked through the papers 
in his portfolio and replied: "On the average, for two hours 
not every day, but most days." 

"Comrade, what is this?" said Lenin, starting to his feet. 
"The theft of public property a shameful waste of time- 
sabotage under the disguise of revolutionary meetings! It was 
you, comrades, who set up the dictatorship of the proletariat 
to crush the bourgeoisie and any other social group which op 
posed us. The concentrated activity of every worker is needed 
to maintain that dictatorship not six, not eight, but ten, four 
teen or twenty-four hours work every day. Do you under 
stand?" 



250 LENIN 

At once the workers jumped to their feet and began to pro 
test angrily. "That is slavery, worse than under the bourgeoisie! 
Where are the gains of the Revolution? Where is the Socialist 
paradise you wrote and talked about? Where is the freedom 
of the working class? We ought to be well fed and allowed 
to rest after our labours under the yoke of Capitalism!" 

Lenin smiled good-humouredly, though his thick lips 
twitched and trembled. 

"Comrades," he said. "You made the Revolution. It was 
your victory that made possible the paradise you speak of. But 
the paradise is not here yet. You must work not chatter, as 
you have done these past three months. As I look at you I 
say to myself, These brave revolutionaries, having climbed up 
a high tree where they are admired by the whole world, are 
now sawing off the branch they sit on, just for fun! " 

There was laughter in the room and Lenin knew that he 
had partisans among the workers. He continued to speak with 
a malicious smile. 

"Nothing is being done against your will. We obey your 
orders. You decided to work hard and to make peace, with 
Europe, which has outstripped us by fifty years. But instead, 
you work for two hours and chatter for six. I wonder your 
throats aren t swollen by it. Why, you seem to be envious of 
Kerensky, who talked day and night. They say he made 
speeches even in his sleep. Yet I was always hearing at meet 
ings that you opposed Kuzina Putkov who advocated a cau 
tious policy of delay. Remember that our enemies never sleep, 
and if they start an attack, no talk will help us; as it is, you 
will waste your energies and you will cease to talk only when 
the nooses of the White Generals tighten around your necks. 
Work, comrades. Work! Work! You must make an effort 
if you want the Revolution to succeed and your own happi 
ness to follow." 

He stooped and whispered a few words to the Labour Com 
missar. Then he gave judgment in a steady and decisive voice. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 251 

"In the name of the working class I order that the engineers 
shall remain in the factory. The committee must see to It that 
the weekly production must equal the production in the first 
weeks under these engineers. Otherwise you will be court- 
martialed for sabotage. The proletariat has no room for lazi 
ness and no belief in mercy. 

There were no protests from the workers, who went away 
in a state of dejection. They felt that a heavy and ruthless 
hand had been laid upon them. The engineers, encouraged 
by Lenin s decision, exhorted them to increase the production 
of the factory. They did their best by example and by words, 
but the workers shook their heads. 

"It s too late now/ they muttered. "The machines are half- 
ruined. There are no raw materials. Nothing can be done." 

One after another they joined the Red army or fled to the 
country, from which the Russian worker never quite cut his 
connection. The more intelligent among them applied for 
work in the innumerable offices which were transforming 
Russia into a nation of parasitical bureaucrats. 

At kst the factory closed down altogether. The Baldyrevs 
we^e free. But they were depressed by the event, for they did 
not agree with the men of their own class who boycotted the 
Bolshevik rule as a government of invaders and traitors, under 
the impression that it would not last long. Baldyrev and his 
sons considered that the new order would endure for some 
time. They looked upon the Revolution as one period of a 
powerful movement which would pass through several trans 
formations in the course of many years. Moreover, they were 
responsible citizens and as such they could not leave their 
country in the lurch, even though they clearly saw that it was 
being torn to pieces by the clumsy hands of dreamers, criminals 
and illiterate louts. 

"We professional men must remain at our posts," Peter 
Baldyrev used to declare. "For every successive Government 
will need us. Remember, the peasant will decide the issue 



252 LENIN 

in the end; he will arise in his anger against these lunatics and 
bring about the final settlement. But even the peasant will 
need the help of the professional class. He won t put up with 
these things in leather coats, the Commissars, who are at once 
ruining Russia and ordering the countryside to give them food. 
Our peasants never did have much in common with the towns : 
and now the towns are overrunning them with Commissars 
like vermin, who are neither known nor respected. The 
authorities demand bread, meat and butter to feed the Red 
army, but the towns have no goods to give in exchange except 
newspapers, pamphlets and specious catchwords. We must 
wait for the time when the peasant descends upon the towns 
with a thick stick in his hand. That is the cure." 

Prompted by these principles, the engineers registered once 
more with the Labor Commissariat, and they were tolid that 
they would be called upon when their professional help was 
needed. But at the same time some of the workers who lived 
in their flat left for the country and the District Commissar 
billeted new families upon them. They were beggars and non 
descripts who came out of the worst slums in the capital. Im 
mediately thefts were followed by fights. As a result, search 
parties of the militia and of soldiers broke into the flat. At 
each visitation "the bourgeoisie" suffered worst of all, for their 
possessions were seized and they themselves were insulted as 
"robbers of the working class." Their life became more un 
bearable every day. 

Then the women spied upon Madame Baldyreva and re 
ported to the authorities what supplies of food she bought. 
They also declared that she owned an excessive amount of 
clothing, linen and footwear. At night a party of robbers, pre 
tending to be agents sent to investigate charges of peculation, 
raided the flat and took away the food of the bourgeois family. 

Finally the patience of the Baldyrevs was exhausted. It was 
the beginning of December at a time of severe frost and they 
sat shivering in the damp, unheated flat. Suddenly piercing 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 253 

cries broke out in the next room,, occupied by workers 5 families. 
A woman wept and moaned bitterly. 

"There must be something the matter with that woman/ 
said Madame Baldyreva. "I must see her." 

She left the room, only to return in a moment pale and 
shaken. 

"Gregory," she said, "go to Dr. Lebediev and ask him to 
come at once. The poor woman is in labour." 

When the doctor had examined her he declared that there 
was not a moment to lose, but the room was so filthy that she 
was threatened with infection and death. 

Madame Baldyreva looked at her men. "Go out for a while," 
she said. "We ll have the poor creature in this room. We 
can t leave her like that." 

When the men came back they found poor Madame Baldy 
reva in tears. 

"Can you imagine how mean that woman is?" she sobbed. 
"We saved her life, but as soon as the child was born she de 
clared that she would stay in the room for good. They have 
all moved in now her husband and four children." 

"We can t do anything," Baldyrev decided. "We must get 
away from here." 

"But where to?" 

"To the country, to my brother Serge. He sent us an invi 
tation long ago. In the country we will be undisturbed." 

A few days passed before the Baldyrevs could get a permit 
to leave the capital. In that free country everybody except the 
members of the Bolshevik Party was held to one place like a 
convict fettered to his wheel-barrow. However, friendly work 
ers helped the Baldyrevs, who were quite destitute, and they 
moved to Rozino, an estate near Novgorod. Here they 
breathed freely, and they realized how easy it was to get along 
without the luxuries of civilized life. 

"I used to be angry with the laundress over a badly ironed 



254 LENIN 

shirt-collar," said Peter, laughing. "Now I can get on without 

any collar at all. Everything is relative." 

It was not long, however, before the wave of revolution 
passed over Rozino. One day a gang of peasants approached 
the manor house, led by an evil-looking fellow who wore an 
officer s great-coat from which the epaulettes had been torn. 
He demanded that the proprietor of the estate should come 
out at once to see them. Instead, Serge Baldyrev invited them 
into the house, where the peasants stood uncomfortably enough 
in the presence of their "lord," although they nudged each 
other and exchanged sly winks. 

"We have come to you on important business, Comrade 
Bourgeois," said the stranger roughly, assuming the role of 
spokesman. 

Baldyrev looked up at the sound of his voice and examined 
the man closely. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed at last. "I didn t recognize you for a 
moment. Klim Gusev, eh? It s a long time since we have 
met. You drank away your cottage and land and then left 
the village. What are you up to now?" 

Even then Baldyrev did not say all he knew. He remem 
bered that this chronic drunkard had been imprisoned for 
some crime in the neighbouring town and that he had been 
exiled from the "obshchina," the primitive and aboriginal 
peasants commune. 

"I have full power from the Council of Workers and Peas 
ants Delegates in this district," said Gusev boastfully. "We 
have come here, comrade, to demand the surrender of the 
whole estate, with its cattle and its buildings. Everything be 
longs to the peasants now." 

He raised his closed fist threateningly to enforce his argu 
ment. 

Baldyrev frowned. He did not like this new jargon in the 
mouth of a ne er-do-well. 

"Keep your fist to yourself, my man, or we ll get nowhere. 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 255 

I know from the papers that the Constitutional Assembly will 
meet in January. When it meets, it will pass laws about prop 
erty in land. Let us wait for them. January is not far off." 

Baldyrev stroked his grey beard and looked at the peasants 
in a friendly fashion. But Gusev suddenly broke into a storm 
of curses. 

"Don t try to deceive us, you bourgeois bloodsucker! You 
have squeezed enough tears and sweat and blood out of us al 
ready. Now you must hand over and look out we don t 
strangle you and light a peasants bonfire into the bargain." 

"Are you threatening me?" asked Baldyrev, and turning to 
the peasants he exclaimed: "You are silent, neighbours. Why? 
I have always been your friend. You know that I never 
squeezed blood out of you. That is the story of a drunken 
gaol-bird. Speak! Does Justice live in your hearts?" 

The peasants shifted about uneasily, muttering, "Well . . . 
certainly ... so to say .. we ve lived on friendly terms . . . 

no oppression at all We can t complain. But the order has 

come to take the land and everything else from the landlords 
... to distribute it. We only came to advise you in a neigh 
bourly way, to advise you . . . whatever happens, we shall take 
the land." 

"Indeed ! By what right will you take it ? Are you all going 
to turn criminals ? What will happen to you when order is 
restored again? Have you thought of that?" 

"In your life-time, bourgeois, there will be no order except 
the rule of peasants and workers," replied Gusev with a grin. 
"If you don t give in we must use force." 

It was not easy to frighten Serge Baldyrev, a retired colonel 
and a hero of two wars. He stiffened proudly and replied: 
"I give up nothing until I see a law published and confirmed 
by the government. If the Constitutional Assembly commands 
it, I shall give way at once. And now you can commit any 
crime you like, but you will atone for it bitterly. So I tell 



256 LENIN 

you to be sensible while there is time. Go home, think it over 
and send the headman to rne with your decision." 

He waved his hand in dismissal and the peasants left the 
manor house without more words. 

"The master was right/ 5 one of them muttered as they 
walked away. "We can wait." 

"Wait? Wait?" sneered Gusev. "You will only wait for a 
new set of policemen, new prisons, new knouts. The bour 
geoisie will restore the old regime at the Assembly and back 
you go under their yoke again. The thing to do is to take 
what you can while there is time." 

"That s true. Why not use the chance we have?" they said 
to each other. 

An hour later the headman was at the manor, twisting his 
cap in his hand and looking uneasily at Serge Baldyrev. 

"The Lord have mercy on you, sir! The Lord have mercy! 
The people have gone mad. The Last Day is at hand. They 
have decided to take everything from you land, house and 
cattle and to expel you and your wife. They told me to tell 
you that you must send your relatives away. Gusev said that 
they were battening on the peasants. Sir, it is not we who 
want this, but Gusev. He drove them along like a fiend in 
hell Oh, what an evil day this is!" Then he approached 
Baldyrev and whispered in his ear. "Put on a peasant s suit 
and wait here. I shall send a cart for you and my godson will 
drive you to town where you will be safe." 

"Thank you, headman," replied Baldyrev after a long silence. 
"Send Ivan up with a cart." 

When the man had gone he went to the parlour where the 
whole family was assembled. 

"I must give way," he said calmly. "But I shall remain here 
to see that the poor fools do not destroy the farm. I shall be 
their counsellor and assistant. I must not desert niy post. If 
it passes into the peasants hands they must get the best possible 
profit out of it, and I alone can help them to do that. As for 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 257 

you, the peasants insist on your leaving. Valeryan, you must go 
with your family and my wife, to my friend Kostomarov. 
He has a small farm which he cultivates like a small peasant, 
and they won t take that from him. It is the best possible 
refuge." 

But his wife protested. "I am going to remain! I won t be 
parted from you. I went with you to the war as a nurse, and I 
cannot leave you now. We have no children, we have lived 
for each other. We can die together! Oh, let me stay!" 

Serge Baldyrev was deeply moved, and he did not try to 
oppose her. 

"Thank you, Julia," he said simply. 

He took counsel with his brother, whom he asked to safe 
guard some of his documents and valuables which could be 
sold in course of time. He also asked Valerian to prepare 
Kostomarov to take him in with his wife, in case they would 
have to leave the manor in the end. 

"I am afraid," he said, "that the peasants will get out of 
control like your workers. When I have lost hope I shall come 
to Kostomarov and help him." 

The Rozino manor was soon empty except for the old couple 
who sat in the half-darkness and talked in low voices. 

"Is there a single man in the district to whom we have ever 
done an injury?" asked the old woman. "Serge, why do they 
hate us?" 

She sobbed quietly while her husband walked up and down 
the room. 

"It is a complicated business," she said. "We are answering 
for the sins of others. We must atone for the sins of the gov 
ernment, of the nobility, of the officials and intelligentsia. We 
are punished for the crimes of the Czars. They looked on the 
peasants as cattle, to be lashed on with a whip. They left the 
peasants in darkness, they created a gulf between them and the 
rest of Russia. We have lived long enough to see the day of 
revenge. And now we are no longer just good neighbours 



258 LENIN 

known for fifty years. Serge and Julia. We are the gentry, 
people of education, in league with the old authorities. So 
we are their enemies." 

They talked together for a long while, their troubled grey 
heads bent close together. Suddenly a window pane shivered 
with a crash and a big stone fell on the carpet. A cloud of 
frosty air blew into the room. A muffled noise sounded from 
the courtyard. 

Baldyrev saw through the window a great crowd of peasants 
led by Gusev, and the women of the village, who all had sacks 
in their hands. 

"Open the door! Open!" came a shout from without. 

Baldyrev crossed himself and opened the massive door. At 
once Gusev and the women pushed past him. Without any 
preliminaries they began to fill their sacks with whatever they 
would hold, pulling down the curtains and breaking open the 
locked cupboards. 

"Take away everything!" was the cry. "It all belongs to us. 
The bourgeoisie are done for." 

"Come to your senses, people!" shouted Baldyrev, but he 
was pushed aside; and from the courtyard where the farm 
buildings stood came cries and shouts of triumph. 

Encouraged by Gusev, the women fell into a fury of destruc 
tion. They broke the mirrors and the furniture, smashed the 
piano to pieces, and finally went away bent double with their 
sacks. 

"Set the old barn on fire!" shouted Gusev, waving on the 
mob. 

At once a peasant set a long torch under the wooden roof. 
Another threw kerosene against the walls and set them alight. 
Tongues of flame began to lick the blackened planks of the 
old building and smoke poured from the gables of the roof 
In a few minutes the whole house was alight. 

"Barricade the doors!" a woman shouted. "Roast the rats 
in their hole!" 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 259 

And at that command the peasants, who had been humble 
and devout, the women and girls who had come day by day 
with their troubles to seek advice, the old men who came over 
and over to "the lord" for advice in their domestic affairs or 
for protection from tax-collectors and the police all of them 
went mad in the fantastic glare of the flames. They shouted 
and raved as they piled up beams and timbers against the door. 
They ran from one part of the building to another, exulting in 
the hot breath of the fire, in the crash of falling rafters, in the 
sparks whirling upward into the frosty sky. 

An old witch, in whose mad eyes the glare of the fire shone 
horribly, lifted her arms above her head and shouted in a 
shrill frenzy. "Burn it down! Burn it down, good people! 
When that lies in ashes the lords will never return!" Her 
words were received with shouts and blasphemies. "Chaste 
Mother! Christ! Lord! We have lived to see the day of joy! 55 

Her voice broke suddenly in the acrid smoke and she fell to 
cursing. 

"The master and mistress are coming to the window!" 
shouted somebody. "See, Orthodox people! The fire has 
reached them!" 

Serge Baldyrev seized his wife, who had swooned with ter 
ror, and dragged her to the door. With all his strength he 
could not break down the barricade. He took up a chair and 
smashed a window in the hall. Then he raised up his wife 
and the peasants saw his grey head through the window. A 
youth jumped forward and hurled a stone at him. The crowd 
howled with delight and a hail of stones fell upon him. 
Baldyrev disappeared with a loud cry and at the same time the 
ceiling of the hall came crashing down, sending an eddy of 
sparks and embers into the sky. For some moments even the 
roar of the fire was drowned by the hysterical shouts of the 
Russian peasants. 

"Get the horses out!" shouted a voice. At once the crowd 
rushed to the outhouses but they were too late. The thatched 



260 LENIN 

stables were alight from end to end. They could only stand 
and listen to the shrill neighing of the horses, the hissing of 
the flames, and the crash of woodwork,, as the place was con 
sumed with all its tractors, machines and ploughs. 

"The peasants bonfire," one of those innumerable holo 
causts which lit up Russia from end to end, died down with 
the dawn. The peasants returned to the village, driving before 
them the cattle from the lord s fields. 

"I shall light a thick candle to St. Nicholas for this night s 
work," said one of them in sudden gratitude. "We ve settled 
the whole affair with no harm done. The land is ours. We 
alone have a right to it. The land is our mother and our 
nurse." 

"Let us see to it that the Baldyrevs never return," said 
another. 

"We may be driven to Siberia for this," said a third. "Lord 
have mercy on us and save us." 

They all looked round fearfully and crossed themselves. 
Gusev laughed boisterously. 

"Don t fear, comrades. They will come no more. To make 
sure of it, well set up an aspen in the ashes. Then no Baldyrev 
can come back." 

"Yes," said the peasants, reassured. "We ll ward them off 
with an aspen pole. Why not?" 

At that moment the printing machines in Petrograd were 
striking off Lenin s proclamation to the peasants. "We tell 
you, wait for no law. Take back the land which was taken 
from you by the servants of the Czar, by the bankers, by the 
nobility. Sweep your enemies aside; they are exploiters and 
oppressors. You are the oppressed and you have now thrown 
off your fetters. Do your work quickly. For the landowners 
are waiting for reinforcement led by the Czarist Generals. 
They are advancing upon you with court-martials, the death 
penalty, prison, hard labor and the knout. Hasten with your 
work. Remember that nobody can ever take from you what 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 2 6i 

you seize at this moment. Long live the Social Revolution! 
Long live the Government of Peasants and Workers! Long 
live the Dictatorship of the Proletariat!" 

Lenin wrote this proclamation after attending a meeting of 
the Commissars. As he listened to their speeches he felt sad 
ness and fear stealing over him. As he walked along the cor 
ridors of the Smolny Palace he said to himself: "Am I really 
a dictator of millions? Shall I ever be? Have I the power 
that I need? Can I stamp my will upon them all? I must, 
for my will is not selfish. I want to free the workers from 
serfdom, even at the cost of my life. Yet I feel that the mob 
dominates me, gives me its orders, and only by an effort can I 
achieve a tithe of what I want. Am I a slave to the mob 
a victim of fanatics, demagogues, illiterate peasants? Can I 
only become a dictator by yielding to them, and gain my 
power in the end by controlling food supplies? I am com 
pelled now to make the peasants destroy the best-cultivated 
farms. But I need not fear. The dictatorship is within my 
grasp and when I have it I can do what I will." 

At the same moment Felix Dzherzhinsky lay on a sofa in 
his room, guarded by Latvian revolutionaries under the com 
mand of Peters and Lacis. A victim of insomnia for many 
years past, Dzherzhinsky lay with staring eyes. Through days 
and nights of suffering this ex-convict, this neurotic Socialist 
had to live face to face with terrible thoughts and appalling 
memories. He hated the entire world. He wished to revenge 
himself upon all that lived or was the work of living hands. 
He wanted to bathe in blood, to surround himself with broken 
bodies and ruined things. In the end he wanted to be all alone 
with the stillness of death. 

Occasionally his swollen eyelids flickered down for a moment 
over his bloodshot eyes. He pressed his hands to his convulsed 
face and groaned with pain. His mouth curved in a terrible 
smile of suffering and he ground his teeth together. 

Late at night a message from Lenin was handed to him. The 



262 LENIN 

dictator wrote that he entrusted Dzherzhinsky confidently with 
a task upon which might depend the future of the Revolution. 
Civil war was imminent. A large army would have to be 
raised, with a special guard to defend the Commissars. It 
would be made up of Latvians and Finns and of the Chinese 
imported by the Czarist Government for military labor. 
These men had to be kept well supplied. The soldiers fighting 
on the internal fronts would need all the provisions possible. 
And the towns could not be left without food because rebel 
lions might break out in them. But the peasants would not 
willingly give up their food because they had not much them 
selves: the Commissars ordered Comrade Dzherzhinsky to 
produce measures by which the peasants would be forced to 
bring their food to the depots. He was to have an entirely free 
hand to carry out his plans as soon as possible. 

All night Dzherzhinsky writhed upon the hard sofa, sleep 
less, thinking how he should accomplish his task. He had no 
scruples. He would squeeze the last drop of blood from the 
peasants, who were slaves and savages. He would see to it 
that they never forgot his name. 

He clapped his hands and a Latvian soldier appeared imme 
diately at the door. 

"Well, comrade," Dzherzhinsky asked, "you hate the Rus 
sians, don t you the whole mob of gobbling workers and 
illiterate peasants who used to oppress all the conquered 
nations, the Poles, the Latvians, the Finns, the Tartars, the 
Ukrainians and the Jews?" 

"Yes. They are mad dogs/ growled the soldier. 

"Mad dogs," repeated Dzherzhinsky. "We must have no 
mercy on mad dogs." 

The soldier stood erect and silent. Dzerzhinsky scribbled 
a few words on a piece of paper. 

"Send this off to Malinovski, comrade, and tell Peters to 
come to me." 

Then he fell back again, exhausted by the effort, and even 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 263 

by the sight of a human being. He hissed with pain and bit 
his tongue to keep back a cry. Outside there was a tramp of 
feet and a click of rifles. It was the changing of the guard. 

At Rozino, faint wisps of smoke rose from the blackened 
ruins of the manor house. In the village the peasants shared 
out the cattle, cursing and quarrelling with one another. At 
last they dispersed to their cottages, looking up at the growing 
light in the sky with grateful eyes. 

"Jesus Christ, our Saviour, may Thy name be blessed for 
ever! Thou hast comforted us and sent us a reward for years 
of oppression and misery. Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!" 

Above the forest rose a cloud of crows and ravens, wheeling 
in disorder, calling clamorously for prey. 



CHAPTER XXII 

JUST BEFORE Christmas, signs of uneasiness became notice 
able in the Smolny Palace, the residence of the Council 
of People s Commissars. The corridors were usually filled 
with people who came either on business or else out of sheer 
curiosity to see what was going on and to meet face to face the 
Commissars who were shaking Russian affairs. Now, the cor 
ridors were all but deserted. Only here and there the Finns 
and Latvians were posted, while behind the closed doors the 
troops were concealed. 

At noon a group of men surrounded by armed workers en 
tered the building and were ushered into the chamber where 
the Commissars were gathered with members of the Executive 
Committee and of the War Revolutionary Committee. 

An armed worker with a red arm-band announced them: 
"The envoys of the Council of Workers , Soldiers and Peas 
ants Delegates!" 



264 LENIN 

"Good day, comrades/ said Lenin, seated at a table on the 
dais. 

A lean, middle-aged man appeared at the head of the depu 
tation and spoke in a trembling voice, "We represent the 
Social Democrats and the Revolutionaries. We have come on 
behalf of the Council which inherited the power of the Gov 
ernment." 

Lenin smiled and replied, "The comrades are now at the 
headquarters of Russia s only government which is not 
hereditary but revolutionary. But that is unimportant at the 
moment. What do you want?" 

"The Social Revolutionaries ask the People s Commissars by 
what right they have usurped the policy of giving the land 
to the peasants?" 

Lenin lowered his bald skull on the table and laughed. His 
broad shoulders shook with merriment. When he looked up 
again his eyes were full of cunning enjoyment. 

"Your policy for the land is not in accordance with our 
opinions," he said. "But we used it because the peasants want 
it at the moment. Why did we hasten the publication of your 
plan? Because we can make it effective, while in your hands 
it would remain a scrap of paper." 

"You are a demagogue!" shouted the deputation. 

"Is there any harm in that?" asked Lenin, smiling. 

"It is a shameless usurpation," they cried. 

"Everything is a usurpation to somebody, when what they 
want has been snatched from under their noses. But the 
usurpers look at it differently. Now what else?" 

Another comrade came to the front. He was terribly pale. 
His lips trembled and he spoke only with an effort. 

"In the name of the Social Democratic wing of the Council 
I protest against the shameful peace which the Commissars are 
proposing. The Russian nation will never forgive such a dis 
grace." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 265 

"Do the comrades want the war continued?" asked Lenin 
sympathetically. 

"Yes! The nation s honor is at stake!" 

"Have the comrades an army they can rely upon to carry 
out a campaign?" 

"No, unfortunately. You have managed to break up the 
army completely." 

"Excuse me/ broke in Lenin, "for pointing out an inac 
curacy. You did the first work in breaking up the army. It 
is too bad, but history proves it. It is enough to mention the 
tactics of your "Napoleon" Kerensky. Then there was Sokolov 
with his famous Order No. i, and your own orders when you 
wanted the front line. There was nothing for us to do but 
to dot the Ts* and we did it." 

The deputation was silent and discomfited. Lenin noticed 
it, and went on in the same disarming manner. 

"You were kind enough to prepare our way. You volun 
teered to do the dirty part of the work. You are well aware 
that war is impossible at the moment. The people are ex 
hausted. There are no more recruits. The army has had 
enough fighting. There is no alternative but peace at any 
price. That is our policy. Even the Grand Duke Nicholas, 
if he were in our place, could do nothing else. As for myself 
I have always been convinced that it is better not to fight at all 
if you can only wave your arms about and be hit on the nose. 
I advise you, comrades, to remember that day and night." 

The deputation felt the concealed threat in his words. But 
their indignation mastered them. 

"We shan t allow usurpers to torment the country," they 
shouted, "and to threaten the Assembly, which alone can estab 
lish a system of laws and prepare the terms of peace. We will 
defend the Assembly with all our strength. You must remem 
ber that on your side." 

Lenin leaned back and stretched himself luxuriantly. He 
spoke without a trace of anger or excitement. 



266 LENIN 

"You will be shot down with machine guns/* he said. 

The discussion was over. The deputation departed, angry 
and crestfallen. The Commissars surrounded their leader 
and expostulated with him fearfully. 

"A split with all the Socialists ... at such a dangerous 
moment ... it is a great responsibility," muttered Kamenev 
without looking at Lenin. 

"A gauntlet thrown down before the Constitutional Assem 
bly/ added Tomsky. 

"I agree/ said Trotsky, taking off his eye-glasses. "You 
don t know which way the peasants and the army will jump." 

A silence set in which was broken at last by Sverdlov, "A 
threat is no longer a threat when it is backed "up by action." 

"Yds," said Stalin, baring his white teeth. "We can flood 
Petrograd with troops this minute. The Grenadiers, the 
Pavlovsky regiment and the machine-gunners are enough for 
that." 

Lenin listened attentively. When the comrades had ex 
hausted their arguments he said firmly, "The Party to which 
all of us belong demanded the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. 
We cannot betray the Party. It amazes me, comrades, that 
I am forced to lecture you on our principles. I see more danger 
here than in an attack upon the Constitutional Assembly, 
which seems to have hypnotized you." 

He went on speaking gravely, without rancour, as though he 
were discussing some trifle with a few friends. 

"A dictatorship implies power based immediately upon vio 
lence. It acknowledges no legal limitations : the power of the 
state means violence and nothing else. The logical conclusion 
is that the Dictatorship of the Proletariat exercises the functions 
of the State. That is the only source of law. The law must 
be strong enough to crush all opposition groups out of exist 
ence. Only traitors or fools can desire tolerance for those who 
oppose the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. Such are the prin 
ciples involved: to surrender them would be worse than mad- 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 267 

ness. It would be treachery. So when the right moment 
comes the policy of the Party will be backed up by bayonets 
and machine-guns." 

Lenin s courageous declaration made an impression upon 
them all, though some still deliberated whether it would be 
better to prevent the calling of the Assembly or to face an 
open straggle with it. Lenin saw the situation and recalled 
to them the words he had used to the deputation. 

"When you do strike," he said, "strike hard enough to 
destroy Heaven. Comrades, we shall discuss this later on. It is 
a matter of the first importance." 

Leaving the room, Lenin met Nadezhda Konstantynovna in 
the corridor. 

"Any news?" he asked. 

"Delegates from the Jewish communities are waiting to see 
you. They have been waiting for two hours. I told them to 
come tomorrow but they said they were leaving Petrograd 
at once." 

"The Jews?" he pondered. "What do they want with me? 
And with so many of their compatriots on the Council. Do 
they take me for a Jew as well?" 

"No," she laughed. "You are Ulyanov and a nobleman for 
ever." 

"An ex-nobleman," he corrected her quickly. 

"An ex-nobleman," she repeated, taking his hand. "But 
they know it, at any rate." 

He opened the door of his room and stopped in astonish 
ment. The Jews were seated stiffly along the walls in formal 
silence. They were not the revolutionary Jews of the Bund, 
a type which he knew of old. They were dressed in furs and 
silks and velvets, and broad fox-skin caps. They had old, 
patrician faces and long silver beards; their grey hair fell upon 
their shoulders, their wrinkled hands lay upon their knees in 
priestly immobility, and they looked straight ahead with their 



268 LENIN 

red-rimmed and blood-shot eyes. Lenin inspected all his visi 
tors carefully and waited for them to speak. 

One of them rose and addressed him in Russian. "We salute 
you, the leader of the oppressed. We are the Rabbis and 
Teachers of Israel, sent by the Council of the Synagogues with 
a heartfelt entreaty." 

Lenin motioned him to go on. He sat down at his writing 
table full of astonishment and curiosity. 

"We have to entreat you to dismiss the men of our Race 
who sit on the Council of Peoples 5 Commissars." 

"Are you all mad?" shouted Lenin. "Trotsky, Zinovyev, 
Kamenev, Radek they are our most valuable comrades ! They 
are laying the foundations of the new order. History will set 
their names next to those of Marx and Lasalle!" 

"Leader of the people/ replied the Rabbi pontifically after 
he had explained Lenin s words to his companions in Hebrew, 
"Leader, you are aware that conditions in Russia have turned 
the Jews into revolutionaries. The persecution has led us to 
educate our sons so that they may fight for us. Since the days 
of slavery in Egypt and Babylonia we have been internation 
alists and nationalists at one and the same time. We live and 
work peacefully everywhere but we never pass over the boun 
daries of our own community. Our community is a bee-hive: 
we are the bees. We knew very well that in Russia the Jews 
alone were fitted to produce practical revolutionaries. We 
blessed and encouraged them up to the moment when the 
Empire of the cruel Romanovs was overthrown and the nation 
turned to the Constitutional Assembly. At that moment the 
work of the Jews was finished. It was then their duty to 
become ordinary citizens of the Russian Republic." 

"The Constitutional Assembly again?" escaped from Lenin. 
"This is a damnable day. Nobody talks of anything else." 

"The Constitutional Assembly is the highest expression of 
the impulses of the soul and of the wisdom of the nation," re 
plied the Rabbi with uplifted hands. "If you do not believe a 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 269 

thousand elected representatives, collect two million Russian 
citizens together and ask them what is their will Woe upon 
you thirty men if you want to rule the destinies of millions! 
The Semitic nations have a proverb: Unless you are a born 
horseman, do not ride upon the horse s neck. 5 " 

Lenin was silent, and the Rabbi took up his discourse again. 

"The Council of the Synagogues has definite information 
that the Commissars, amongst whom are many Jews, are con 
spiring against the Assembly. Some of them, such as Volo- 
darsky (or Moses Goldstein), Guzman and Moses Radomylski 
(who has adopted the name of Yuritsky) have become verit 
able executioners. They are cruelly slaughtering without trial 
the enemies of the Council of People s Commissars, which has 
never been acknowledged by the people. We cannot tolerate it." 

"But why should it worry you if the Jews destroy the men 
who have started pogroms in the past and may start them 
again in the future?" 

The Rabbi translated Lenin s remark. The old men nodded 
their heads and looked at Lenin. One of them made a remark 
which the Rabbi repeated in Russian. 

"The venerable Rabbi says, c Woe upon us! The foolish 
actions of the Commissars will bring down upon us a calamity 
worse than any recorded in the annals of the Jewish nation. 3 " 

"Have you made your opinions known to the Jewish Com 
missars? 39 asked Lenin. 

"At this moment our demands are being communicated 
to them." 

"Then," said Lenin, "if they come to heel " 

The Rabbi lowered his head and whispered sadly, "But they 
are heretics from the religion of the Chosen People. They 
have renounced our faith and our law. They will not agree. 
We entreat your condescension to get rid of them. Yours is 
a Russian affair. Let the Russians do what their conscience 
bids them." 

Lenin jumped out of his chair. "How dare you interfere 



270 LENIN 

with the activities of the Council of People s Commissars?" 
he roared. 

He quickly controlled himself and looked again at these 
unusual visitors. They sat immovable and upright. They 
gazed ahead of them with no other emotion than sorrow. 
After a long silence the old Rabbi said a few words which were 
translated for Lenin. 

"The venerable Rabbi says that if our demands are not con 
sidered, a dark cloud will overshadow it. From it a merciful 
rain may fall, or a destroying thunderbolt." 

"My dear old man," replied Lenin mockingly. "You can en 
treat, argue and desire as much as you will. But keep away 
from demands and threats. That is the privilege of the pro 
letariat. Do you hear?" 

He turned his back and said no more. He was seething 
with anger, and his hand itched to ring the bell. Why not 
order the Finns to remove these priests of a non-existent 
Jehovah and put a few bullets through them ? He restrained 
himself, not through fear, but because nobody could take the 
place of the Jews in the Party. Certainly not the aristocrats 
and the bourgeoisie who were the natural enemies of the pro 
letariat. And the peasants, his allies up to a point, could easily 
become his worst foes. No! Even the illiterate, talkative Rus 
sian worker was only good for cannon-fodder or to break the 
necks of defenseless victims. The weak and illogical Russians 
swayed between extremes of asceticism and anarchy. The Jews, 
were full of hatred. Consciously or by tradition they followed 
the instincts of the bee-hive. That was Lenin s conviction: 
they could not be replaced. So he waited patiently until the 
door closed behind the last of the Rabbis. Then he walked up 
and down the room, thinking over the interview and deciding 
not to mention it to the Jewish Commissars. 

"They are suspicious and watchful," he thought. "They may 
decide that I am an anti-Semite at bottom." 



GOD OF THE GODLESS 271 

But he felt all around him the influence of the Rabbis and 
the calm certitude of their threat. 

"A merciful rain or a destroying thunderbolt! When will 
it come? Upon whom will it fall?" 

Lenin laughed at last. "Let them do their worst," he said, 
clenching his fists. 



CHAPTER XXIII 



A SECRET MEETING was being held in the house of the 
Rabbis in Kiev. The synagogue and the buildings 
adjacent to it were carefully guarded by young Jews 
posted at the corners of the streets and in the gardens near by. 

At a round table in the council room the Rabbis were seated 
in their robes of ceremony, serious, concentrated and awe- 
inspiring. The deputies sent from the Jewish communities 
stood around in deep silence, with their eyes fixed upon their 
seniors. The ancient Rabbi, supported by the arms of two of 
his colleagues, arose and addressed them. 

"Isaiah the Prophet said: Woe to the sinful nation, a people 
laden with iniquity, a wicked seed, ungrateful children: they 
have forsaken the Lord, they have blasphemed the holy one 
of Israel " 

He sat down, shook his old head, and panted heavily. 

Then a young Rabbi from the provinces addressed the as 
sembly. "Ye Judges, faithful to the Law of Moses! You laid 
upon me the task of examining the important matter which 
we are here to discuss, and I have done my work. I accuse 
these wicked sons of Israel who conceal themselves under 
false names. They commit iniquities and they walk in blood. 
They sin against the Lord and against the people, for they 
have spilled the blood of Israelites. When the Russians and