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103880 


MEN  and 
POLITICS 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


LOUIS  FISCHER 


DUELL,    SLOAN   AND    PEARCE 
NEW  YORK 


1  rights  reserved*  including 
e  right  to  reproduce  this  book 
portions  thereof  in  any  form. 


first  edition 


VttlMTKO    X  If    Tit*    UMriTXB    »YAT*»    OF    A  M  *  It  1  C  * 
»Y     QU1NH     *     SOD  KM     COMPANY,     INC.*    HA  II  WAY,     K.     J« 


Contents 

Part  One:  The  Post-War  Period:  1921  to  1930 

1.  The  War  Is  Dead,  Long  Live  the  War  3 

2.  Proud  Poles  13 
3*  Mourning  in  Vienna  18 

4.  Hitler  Is  Born  23 

5.  Lenin1  s  Russia  46 

6.  Six  Lost  Years  73 

I.  STALIN  VERSUS  TROTZKY  74 

II.  SEMI-SANE  INTERLUDE  99 

7.  Personal  117 

8.  Life  ^with  Foreign  Correspondents  153 

Part  Two:  World  Crisis  and  World  War:  1930  to  1940 

9.  The  Peaceful  Death  of  a  Dewiocracy  165 

10.  Revolution  Comes  into  Its  Own  187 

11.  At  Home  204 

12.  Sta/m  and  the  GPU  216 

13.  Palestine  Revisited  240 

14.  Mediterranean  Russia  252 

15.  Free  L<W2<?<?  at  Large  261 

16.  The  Extended  Hand  299 

17.  Appease  or  Oppose  312 

1 8.  £tef0re  *Ae  Ifatt/e  323 

19.  England  Helps  Mussolini  330 
20*  The  Statue  of  Liberty  333 

21.  H0/y  WPflr  351 

22.  /  £w/m  386 
2  3*  Tfo  FzVrt  Batt/e  of  the  Second  World  War  402 
24.  The  Sins  of  Democracy  415 


vi  CONTENTS 

25.  Black  Moscow  432 

26.  Nyon  Light  444 

27.  Confidence  and  Hunger  453 

28.  What  Would  Happen  If  .  .  .?  469 

29.  Farewell  to  Moscow  493 

30.  The  Moscow  Trials  and  Confessions  502 

31.  Afr.  Lloyd  George  532 

32.  E£r0:  River  of  Blood  540 

33.  The  Fall  of  France  553 

34.  Just  Before  Christmas:  1938  575 

35.  The  Death  of  a  Nation  584 

36.  -4  Yachtful  of  Diamonds  and  Pearls  596 

37.  Settling  Down  in  America  599 

38.  Europe  Slips  into  War  603 

39.  Europe  at  War  614 

Conclusion 

ToBe  .  .  .  641 

659 


Part  One 

The  Post-War  Period 
1921  to  1930 


I.  The  War  Is  Dead,  Long  Live  the  War 

I  FIRST  visited  Europe  in  1918.  I  saw  Plymouth  and  Lond< — , 
Cherbourg  and  Tours,  Milan,  Florence,  and  Brindisi.  London 
had  had  Zeppelin  air  raids.  The  city  lights  were  dimmed  at 
night.  Restaurants  served  little  white  pills  of  saccharine  instead  of 
sugar.  Almost  every  family  mourned  a  man  killed  in  battle.  The 
women  were  pessimistic  about  the  war.  The  Allies  had  not  yet  started 
winning,  and  laymen  said  Germany  could  not  be  beaten.  The  coun- 
tryside abounded  with  tent  camps  for  khaki-clad  Tommy  recruits. 
City  hotels  were  filled  with  British,  French,  Rumanian,  Italian,  and 
Serbian  officers  in  smartly  cut  uniforms.  Day  and  night,  Piccadilly 
swarmed  with  insistent  prostitutes. 

In  the  French  provinces,  women  in  black  stood  at  railway  sta- 
tions, weeping,  as  long  hospital  trains  bursting  with  bandaged  sol- 
diers pulled  out  in  one  direction  and  heavy  troop  trains  moved  off 
in  the  other.  It  was  the  fifth  summer  of  the  war. 

Italy  was  sunny  and  beautiful,  but  sad. 

I  did  not  understand  much.  This  was  my  first  look  at  the  Old 
World,  and  I  was  only  twenty-two. 

Three  years  later  I  left  America  again  to  see  Europe  at  peace.  In 
the  meantime,  I  had  studied  history,  and  on  the  quiet  sands  of  the 
Egyptian  desert  I  had  read  every  word  of  the  Versailles  Peace 
Treaty.  I  had  read  it  with  a  map. 

I  arrived  in  England  on  the  Aquitmia  in  December,  1921,  and 
went  to  London.  I  did  not  know  then  that  I  would  spend  eighteen 
years  in  Europe.  I  did  not  know  that  I  would  stay  to  see  the  out- 
break of  a  second  world  war.  My  eighteen  years  in  Europe  were  not 
years  of  peace;  they  were  an  armistice  between  two  wars.  Because 
they  are  not  made  in  a  day,  wars  are  no  longer  declared.  Or  they  are 
declared  every  day  for  years.  Those  eighteen  years  were  one  long 
declaration  of  war.  When  war  came  in  September,  1939,  it  was  star- 
tling news.  Most  people  thought  the  war  had  commenced  long  before. 

December,  1921:  three  years  and  a  month  after  the  end  of  the 
first  World  War.  The  Kaiser  was  in  exile  in  Holland.  Hitler  was  an 

3 


4  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

unknown  mongrel  of  Munich.  Mussolini  stood  on  a  low  rung  of 
the  ladder  that  led  to  heaven  in  Rome.  Only  a  handful  of  Bolshe- 
viks knew  Stalin.  The  nations  hatched  in  the  incubator  of  Versailles- 
Czechoslovakia,  Poland,  and  others—were  sprouting  wings  and  strut- 
ting in  the  barnyards  of  Eastern  and  Central  Europe.  Millions  hope- 
fully watched  the  League  of  Nations  set  up  business  in  Geneva. 
England  and  France  were  fresh  from  triumph,  and  Germany  was 
sunk  in  defeat.  Yet  all  the  elements  of  the  war  of  1939  were  already 
discernible. 

Part  of  that  month  of  December,  1921,  I  spent  in  London,  the 
London  of  victory.  Able-bodied  men  in  faded  civilian  suits  covered 
by  the  khaki  overcoats  which  were  all  they  salvaged  from  the  army, 
sold  pencils  on  street  corners,  England,  Scotland,  Wales,  and  North- 
ern Ireland— the  United  Kingdom— counted  1,834,000  unemployed. 
Most  of  them  were  men,  and  most  of  the  men  had  served  in  the 
war,  Mr.  David  Lloyd  George  had  promised  them  "homes  for 
heroes."  But  they  lived  in  disease-ridden  slums.  They  did  not  even 
have  jobs.  Many  organized  into  male  choruses  and  stood  on  the 
Strand  or  in  West  End  squares  singing  "It's  a  Long  Way  to  Tip- 
perary"  and  "Keep  the  Home  Fires  Burning."  They  had  sung  these 
songs  at  Ypres  and  Arras  out  of  nostalgia.  Now  they  sang  for 
copper  pennies.  Other  ex-soldiers  begged  without  music*  Some  pol- 
ished their  military  medals  and  wore  them  when  applying  for  work 
as  bricklayers  and  bus  conductors.  They  had  won  the  medals  after 
years  of  blood  and  mud  and  lice.  They  had  won  the  war  for  their 
country.  But  who  was  the  country?  Were  they  part  of  it?  It  did  not 
seem  so. 

Most  people  I  encountered  said,  "No  one  wins  a  war.  Who  won 
the  San  Francisco  earthquake?**  During  the  war  they  had  hoped.  In 
peace  they  despaired.  No  single  idea  stirred  the  country.  Working- 
men  expected  big  things  from  the  Soviet  Revolution.  Meanwhile, 
however,  Maxim  Gorky,  the  Russian  author,  had  appealed  to  the 
world  for  food  for  75,000,000  starving  Soviet  citizens.  England  was 
tired.  London  was  moved  by  one  consuming  passion:  to  forget. 

At  the  theater,  I  was  tormented  by  the  solid  rows  of  women  with- 
out men,  women  who  had  lost  their  men  in  the  trenches  or  who 
had  never  had  men  and  now  would  never  have  them  because  the 
men  who  might  have  been  theirs  were  dead  in  battle.  These  women 
had  also  won  the  war,  for  they  were  of  England. 

The  Gennan  fleet  lay  oa  the  bottom  of  Scapa  Flow  where  its 


THE  WAR  IS  DEAD,  LONG  LIVE  THE  WAR  5 

own  sailors  scuttled  it,  and  Britannia  ruled  the  waves.  What  differ- 
ence did  that  make  to  Briton  or  German?  England  and  France  had 
acquired  some  colonies,  and  Germany  had  surrendered  all  of  hers. 
Did  this  change  things  for  the  individual? 

The  British  no  longer  hated  the  Germans.  They  thought  Germany 
should  pay  reparations  because  it  had  started  the  war  and  laid  France 
waste;  but  they  were  not  vindictive.  Victory  over  Germany  had 
shifted  the  European  balance  of  power  in  favor  of  France.  The 
French  wanted  to  perpetuate  this  advantage  by  keeping  Germany 
weak.  France  could  do  that  only  with  British  help.  Paris,  therefore, 
advocated  a  permanent  Anglo-French  alliance  and  a  League  of  Na- 
tions under  Anglo-French  control.  But  that  would  have  made  Eng- 
land a  tool  of  French  policy,  and  the  British  had  their  own  interests. 
They  themselves  aspired  to  be  the  arbiter  of  Europe's  fate.  To  curb 
French  hegemony  and  establish  their  own  the  British  wished  to  re- 
dress the  balance  in  Europe  by  restoring  Germany's  strength. 

For  generations  the  international  ideal  of  British  statesmen  has 
been  a  political  seesaw  with  John  Bull  planted  stoutly  on  the  fulcrum, 
and  France  and  Germany,  more  or  less  equal  in  strength,  swinging 
up  and  down  at  either  end  of  the  plank  and  looking  to  John  for 
balance.  Whenever  Germany,  the  naturally  more  powerful  country, 
succeeded  in  holding  the  French  end  uncomfortably  high  in  the 
air,  Bull  left  his  neutral  central  position  and  moved  toward  France 
to  re-establish  the  equilibrium.  That  is  the  picture  behind  the  war  of 
1914— and  the  war  of  1939.  If  Britain  and  France  had  worked  in 
harmony  after  1919,  instead  of  at  cross-purposes  between  1919  and 
1936,  there  might  have  been  no  war  in  1939. 

In  1921,  Germany  was  at  the  mercy  of  France.  That  was  inevi- 
table after  the  war.  But  it  was  bad  for  peace.  It  was  bad  for  business. 
A  bankrupt  Germany  in  the  middle  of  Europe  would  quiet  French 
fears  and  ruin  Europe.  France  thought  first  of  her  safety,  England 
of  her  purse.  The  French  said,  "If  we  had  a  guarantee  from  England 
and  America  we  could  afford  to  be  lenient  to  Germany."  The  Brit- 
ish replied,  "If  you  had  guarantees  you  would  dare  to  be  harsher 
to  Germany/* 

Three  years  of  peace  had  settled  nothing  and  unsettled  a  great 
deal  I  wanted  to  see  Germany.  I  had  come  to  Europe  to  go  to  Ger- 
many. I  was  going  there  for  no  other  motive,  however,  than  to 
join  Markoosha,  and  get  journalistic  experience.  Markoosha  was  a 
slim  native  of  Libau,  Latvia;  she  was  Russian  in  her  unconventional 


6  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

spirit,  German  in  her  education,  a  pianist  by  profession,  a  psycholo- 
gist by  natural  endowment.  The  war  had  brought  her  to  New  York* 
She  had  returned  to  Europe  in  May,  1921. 

It  was  evening,  on  December  20,  when  I  first  arrived  in  Berlin. 
Markoosha  was  waiting  at  the  Zoo  railway  station  in  the  West  End. 
But  I  did  not  know  that  Berlin  had  several  stations,  and  so  I  con- 
tinued on  to  the  central  terminal  at  the  Friedrichstrasse.  When  I 
alighted,  Markoosha  was  not  there.  No  porters  were  there.  I  car- 
ried my  luggage  downstairs.  No  taxis.  I  tried  my  schoolroom  Ger- 
man on  several  persons  and  gathered  that  the  taxis  were  on  strike. 
The  boarding  house  or  pension  to  which  I  had  been  directed  was 
on  the  other  side  of  town.  For  a  while  I  waited,  not  knowing  what 
to  do.  Then  I  walked  around  to  the  freight  section  of  the  terminal, 
There  I  saw  a  big  truck  marked  "Herman  Tietz,  Department  Store." 
I  talked  haltingly  with  the  driver  but  he  showed  no  comprehension* 
Finally  I  waved  a  dollar  biU  in  front  of  his  face  and  said,  "Kaiser- 
allee  15."  He  cried,  "Hop  in."  He  interrupted  the  loading  of  the 
truck  and  assisted  me  up  to  the  high  driver's  seat.  From  that  unusual 
perch  I  first  saw  Berlin.  The  broad  streets  were  hushed  and  cov- 
ered with  snow.  I  had  expected  more  life  in  such  a  metropolis.  The 
driver  talked  incessantly  about  food,  prices,  the  mark,  and  the 
French.  That  dollar  he  was  earning  from  me  was  equal  to  one-fifth 
of  his  monthly  salary.  "Are  all  Americans  rich?"  he  asked*  *4When 
America  entered  the  War  I  was  at  the  front  and  I  knew  we  were 
beaten,**  he  said*  America  seemed  to  him  a  fairyland. 

I  found  Markoosha  at  Kaiscrallee  15,  where  she  was  living*  She 
had  reserved  a  room  for  me  there,  too*  Though  we  were  constantly 
together,  we  remained  free  until  a  year  later  when  we  were  mar- 
ried so  chat  Markoosha  could  have  a  baby  without  too  much  social 
inconvenience. 

I  strolled  through  the  Berlin  streets*  The  building  workers  were 
on  strike.  The  post-office  employees  had  met  at  the  Ncue  Welt 
hall  the  evening  before  and  issued  a  twenty-four-hour  ultimatum 
to  the  government:  if  by  noon  on  December  **,  the  authorities 
did  not  raise  their  salaries  they  would  go  on  strike  after  the  Christ** 
mas  holiday.  Several  industries  in  Berlin  were  already  shut  down  by 
strikes  against  employers  who  violated  the  eight-hour-day  law.  The 
Berliner  Tageblatt,  middle-of-the-road  democratic  paper,  complained 


THE  WAR  IS  DEAD,  LONG  LIVE  THE  WAR  7 

that  numerous  factory  owners  were  trying  to  lengthen  the  working 
week. 

Blunderingly  I  found  my  way  to  the  Kurfuerstendamm  and 
Tauentzienstrasse,  shopping  streets  of  the  well-to-do.  Christmas 
buying  seemed  light.  Christmas  trees  were  sold  out.  There  had  been 
fewer  trees  on  sale  this  year*  friends  told  me.  In  Cologne,  according 
to  the  papers,  one  Wilhelm  Schoenigen  received  a  sentence  of  a 
year's  imprisonment  and  10,000  marks'  fine  for  selling  600  trees  at 
exorbitant  prices.  Many  similar  cases  occupied  the  authorities.  Ven- 
dors created  a  scarcity,  and  then  extorted  speculative  prices. 

This  was  the  tragedy  of  post-War  Germany.  I  soon  learned  that 
the  spending  of  money  was  a  fine  art— and  a  complicated  science. 
Foreigners  developed  a  skilled  sense.  They  had  to  know  when  to, 
buy  money  and  when  to  sell  money,  and  also  when  to  shop.  Every 
German  hausfrau  required  financial  wizardry  to  buy  potatoes  and 
pay  her  rent.  No  person  in  Germany  knew  the  vakie  of  the  money 
he  had  in  the  bank  or  in  his  pocket.  A  German  workingman  brought 
home  his  fortnightly  salary,  say,  400  marks.  He  went  to  bed,  and 
while  he  slept  the  marks  in  his  jacket  pocket  were  melting  away. 
He  woke  in  the  morning,  went  out,  and  could  buy  only  half  as  much 
food  and  clothing  as  he  could  have  bought  the  night  before.  Prices 
had  gone  up  overnight.  He  therefore  said  to  his  employer:  You 
must  increase  my  wages.  The  employer  did  so  and  in  turn  sold  his 
products  at  a  higher  price.  Employers  accordingly  needed  more 
money  to  meet  their  wage  bills  and  citizens  needed  more  money 
to  buy  goods.  So  the  government  printed  more  money,  and  the 
greater  the  number  of  marks  in  circulation  the  less  each  mark  was 
worth.  That  was  inflation's  vicious  circle.  Inflation  became  the  Ger- 
man nightmare. 

The  human  being  needs  security,  and  he  is  helped  to  it  by  the 
existence  of  certain  stable  points.  If  he  has  a  job  or  a  friend  or  a  love 
or  a  bank  account,  he  plots  his  course  from  that  fixed  position. 
But  no  peace  of  mind  was  possible  when  even  the  money  in  one's 
purse  refused  to  stay  the  same  for  twenty-four  hours.  After  a  while, 
salaries  were  paid  twice  a  week  and,  later,  every  evening,  and  people 
would  rush  immediately  to  the  stores  to  make  purchases.  No  one 
wanted  to  keep  money.  The  Germans  who  earned  large  sums  in- 
vested in  antiques  and  luxuries,  or  they  traveled  and  entertained 
themselves.  Night  clubs  flourished.  Germany  in  those  years  was  gov- 
erned by  the  psychology  of  "eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  for  tomorrow 


8  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

we  die."  It  left  its  mark  on  politics,  morals,  literature,  and  art,  think- 
ing and  popular  habits.  In  years  that  followed,  the  German  wanted 
security  above  all  else,  and  when  a  charlatan  dictator  promised  it 
many  Germans  were  ready  to  pay  for  it  with  their  civil  rights.  A  full 
stomach,  they  said,  was  better  than  freedom.  Any  demagogue  could 
frighten  a  German  audience  by  recalling  the  terrors  of  inflation. 

Pension  Wien  at  Kaiserallee  15  had  been  a  single  family 's  private 
apartment,  but  now  each  room  was  occupied  by  one  family  or  one 
person*  I  had  a  large  room  facing  the  street.  For  it  and  three  meals 
a  day  and  service,  I  paid  1,000  marks  a  month.  When  I  arrived  in 
December,  1921,  that  sum  was  equal  to  approximately  six  dollars. 
After  nine  months  in  Berlin,  it  was  equal  to  seventy  cents*  Each 
month,  then  each  week,  accordingly,  my  rent  in  marks  increased,  but 
in  dollars  it  kept  going  down  steadily*  The  rise  in  prices  never  caught 
up  with  the  appreciation  of  foreign  currency*  Germany  was  a  for- 
eigner's paradise.  I  earned  about  twenty  dollars  a  week  writing  for 
the  New  York  Evening  Post,  and  could  hardly  spend  it. 

Next  door  to  me  lived  an  old  German  couple.  The  man  bore  him- 
self with  military  stiffness.  He  had  owned  an  estate  in  Saxony  and  had 
sold  it  to  pay  taxes.  He  always  wore  the  same  outfit,  striped  trousers 
and  a  shiny  black  coat  twice  his  size.  He  could  insert  his  big  fist  into 
the  empty  bulge  between  his  neck  and  collar;  he  had  simply  shrunk 
during  the  food  shortage  of  1917-1918. 

The  pension  housed  citizens  of  many  lands*  Several  rooms  were 
occupied  by  "White**  Russians.  There  were  English  guests  and  Polish 
visitors,  people  from  Vienna,  and  a  woman  student  from  Italy.  Kvery- 
one  had  a  tale  of  war  horror,  of  suffering  and  privation.  Former 
enemies  now  mingled  in  friendly  intercourse. 

Meals  were  served  in  a  dining  hall.  When  you  came  in  you  shouted 
"Mahteeit,"  and  when  you  left  the  table  you  shouted  "Mahizcir." 
Each  time  the  chorus  faithfully  answered  "Mahkcit."  Every  plate 
was  wiped  clean.  If  half  a  roll  or  a  segment  of  cheese  or  a  piece  of 
meat  remained  uneaten,  it  was  neatly  wrapped  up  and  taken  back 
to  the  guest's  room  to  help  tide  over  the  long  hungry  hours  between 
meals.  The  German  residents  budgeted  strictly.  A  ride  into  the  center 
of  town  cost  ten  pfennigs  (one-tenth  of  a  mark)  by  trolley  and 
twenty  by  fast  bus.  They  took  the  trolley. 

We  had  hot  water  for  bathing  only  on  Saturdays.  For  a  tip  of  a 
few  pfennigs,  however,  any  maid  would  drag  numerous  pitchers  of 
water,  heated  on  the  gas  stove,  into  the  bathroom.  On  trains  or  at 


THE  WAR  IS  DEAD,  LONG  LIVE  THE  WAR  9 

the  police  station  the  foreigners  learned  the  power  of  their  money. 
The  proverbially  incorruptible  German  civil  servant  ignored  regula- 
tions or  attended  to  you  out-of-turn  if  you  slipped  a  mark  into  his 
palm.  He  had  to  supplement  his  inadequate  salary. 

Berlin  was  short  of  coal,  although  Germany  normally  exports  coal. 
I  heard  of  many  pneumonia  patients.  Children  with  "war  rickets" 
were  natural  victims  of  disease.  Germans  I  met  were  depressed  by 
these  conditions,  depressed  and  humiliated.  They  blamed  the  Allies. 
Gustav  Boess,  the  Mayor  of  Berlin,  warned  the  world  on  Christmas 
day,  "If  there  is  not  soon  a  real  improvement  of  living  conditions, 
the  health  of  young  and  old  will  suffer.  May  help  come  through  the 
comprehension  of  the  powers  that  be  in  London,  Washington,  and 
Paris!  Otherwise  it  will  be  too  late— for  generations." 

Peace  on  earth?  Good  will  to  men?  It  did  not  take  much  perspi- 
cacity to  realize  that  Europe  was  drifting  rudderless  in  a  choppy  sea. 
It  did  not  require  any  clairvoyance  to  foresee  that  this  post- War 
chaos  would  exact  a  terrible  vengeance. 

Because  I  wanted  to  refresh  my  memories  of  this  first  month 
I  spent  in  post- War  Europe  twenty  years  ago,  I  have  recently  re-read 
the  London  Times,  New  York  Timesy  and  Berliner  Tageblatt  for 
December,  1921.  I  have  made  a  list  of  important  news  items.  That 
simple  list  reveals  all  the  trends  that  converged  to  the  terrific  clash 
of  1939.  Each  event  was  a  portent,  each  dispatch  a  warning  of  the 
gathering  catastrophe.  Pieced  together,  they  tell  a  story  that  should 
have  made  statesmen  weep— and  act.  The  handwriting  on  the  wall 
was  clear  enough.  But  statesmen  cannot  read  while  they  run. 

ITALY.  December  /,  7^27.  Inkwells,  clubs,  and  chairs  fly  through 
the  air  as  Socialists  and  Fascists  clash  at  a  provincial  council  called 
to  commemorate  the  death  of  a  workingman  killed  by  Black  Shirts. 
December  16.  The  Socialist  party  accuses  Prime  Minister  Bonomi  of 
leniency  towards  the  violent  followers  of  Mussolini  The  Italian  gov- 
ernment decrees  the  dissolution  of  the  Fascist  groups  of  Cremona 
province.  They  evade  the  order.  December  50.  The  Banco  Italiano 
Di  Sconto,  one  of  Italy's  largest  financial  institutions,  closes  its  doors. 
Italian  businessmen  are  supremely  alarmed. 

Italy  was  marching  to  Fascism  and  war. 

AUSTRIA.  December  2.  Mobs  demonstrating  against  the  high  cost 
of  living  attack  fashionable  Viennese  hotels,  and  food  stores.  The 
police  remain  passive.  One  policeman  is  quoted  as  saying,  "We  are 


10  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

tired  of  shooting  and  being  shot  at.  These  people  are  hungry  and 
desperate.  So  are  many  of  us." 
Austria  was  starving  and  riotous. 

GERMANY.  December  /.  A  book  entitled  What  We  Have  Lost  has 
appeared  with  an  introduction  by  Marshal  von  Hindenburg.  "What 
has  been  German  must  become  German  again,"  he  exhorts.  "This 
is  what  you  shall  bear  in  mind,  O  German  Youth."  (In  Paris  the 
book  provokes  bitter  comment.  "Germany  Contemplates  Revenge/' 
warns  a  French  daily.)  December  ;.  A  pamphlet  printed  in  English 
and  entitled  "England's  War  Guilt'*  has  come  from  the  press.  Eng- 
land started  the  War,  it  contends,  and  Germany  should  therefore  not 
pay  reparations.  (The  London  Times  calls  this  publication  ua  preg- 
nant confession  of  the  pure  Hun  doctrine."  Germany  can  pay  if  it 
wants  to,  asserts  the  paper.  Premier  Raymond  Poincare  says  that  if 
Germany  does  not  pay  reparations  France  ought  to  take  over  Ger- 
many's customs,  taxes,  exports,  and  coal  industry.)  December  5.  The 
Berlin  Deutsche  Allgememe  Zeitung  invites  the  Allies  to  withdraw 
their  Arms  Control  Commission  because  it  interferes  with  industry 
by  inspecting  factories  to  see  whether  they  are  making  munitions 
proscribed  by  the  Versailles  Treaty.  December  j.  Thieves,  many  of 
them  women,  have  been  arrested  stealing  iron  crosses,  iron  eagles, 
gilded  iron  crowns,  and  marble  slabs  from  cemeteries.  December  tf. 
Chancellor  Joseph  Wirth  asks  publicly  whether  it  is  "possible,  by  the 
terms  of  a  peace  treaty,  to  take  a  nation  like  Germany  and  squeeze 
it  dry  as  a  lemon*"  December  $.  At  Dresden  the  Allied  Arms  Control 
Commission  discovers  353  howitzers  made  after  the  War  in  contra- 
vention of  the  Versailles  Treaty.  December  /o.  General  Max  von 
Hoffmann,  commander  of  the  German  army  in  the  East,  submits  that 
"it  is  a  mistake  to  disarm  Germany  as  long  as  the  Bolsheviks  con-* 
tinue  their  propaganda  offensive,*'  (This  is  not  the  last  German  at- 
tempt to  gain  concessions  from  the  Allies  by  playing  up  the  Com- 
munist menace.)  December  10.  The  police  in  Berlin  uncover  a  secret 
society  aiming  to  overthrow  the  democratic  republic.  December  13. 
The  Allied  commission  in  Germany  finds  a  hidden  stock  of  140,000 
machine-gun  tubes  and  500  cannon.  Workingmcn,  suspecting  that 
these  arms  caches  will  be  used  by  German  reactionaries  against  the 
Republic,  are  helping  the  Allied  commission  find  them*  December  22. 
Herr  von  Jagow  is  sentenced  to  five  years1  imprisonment  Jagow 
was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Monarchist-right-wing  insurrection  or 


THE  WAR  IS  DEAD,  LONG  LIVE  THE  WAR  11 

Putsch  staged  by  Dr.  Wolfgang  Kapp  in  March,  1920.  The  rebels 
expected  the  army  to  complete  the  job  they  started.  But  the  army 
remained  neutral  and  the  Kapp  Putsch  failed  when  labor  declared 
a  general  strike.  This  saved  the  Republic.  The  Right  press  in  Ger- 
many regards  Jagow's  sentence  as  too  severe,  the  liberal  Berliner 
Tageblatt  calls  it  too  mild,  and  the  Socialist  Vorwaertz  demands  that 
General  Ludendorff  be  tried  as  the  real  leader  of  the  Kapp  Putsch. 
December  24.  The  Allied  Arms  Commission  finds  342  guns  and  247 
howitzers  behind  a  plastered  wall.  December  28.  In  the  city  of  Dues- 
seldorf ,  French  occupation  troops  arrest  thirty  members  of  the  secret 
Ehrhardt  society  whose  purpose  is  to  destroy  the  democratic  Repub- 
lic. Two  of  its  members,  Tillessen  and  Schulz,  had  assassinated 
Matthias  Erzberger,  German  Catholic  leader,  on  August  26,  1921, 
for  defending  Germany's  signature  of  the  Versailles  Treaty.  Decem- 
ber 50.  Railroad  workers  in  Berlin  and  Potsdam  go  on  strike. 
Germany  was  a  proud,  unhappy,  unrepentant  pauper. 

ENGLAND.  December  /.  Wiring  from  London  to  the  New  York 
Times,  Charles  H.  Grasty  says,  "It  is  useless  to  conceal  under  the 
outward  forms  of  the  Entente  the  fundamental  differences  that  now 
exist  between  England  and  France."  December  5.  A  British  financial 
expert  urges  America  to  use  its  gold  hoard  to  save  Europe's  economy. 
December  4.  Wickham  Steed,  editor  of  the  London  Times,  asserts 
that  "the  Versailles  treaty  has  left  a  bad  taste  in  the  mouth  of  the 
world,"  December  24.  In  a  Christmas  editorial  the  London  Times 
writes,  "Peace  delays  its  coming.  Many  still  fear  that  the  war  which 
was  to  end  wars  has  sown  the  seeds  of  further  wars  even  more  ter- 
rible and  deadly  than  the  most  terrible  of  all."  It  discusses  the  strained 
relationship  between  France  and  England. 

The  victorious  Anglo-French  alliance  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

DISARMAMENT.  Washington,  December  15.  Japan  accepts  the  5-5-3 
naval  ratio  proposed  at  the  Washington  Arms  Limitation  Conference. 
Charles  Evans  Hughes,  Secretary  of  State  of  the  United  States,  be- 
lieves that  "this  treaty  absolutely  ends  naval  competition  for  all  time." 
December  24.  The  British  proposal  to  abolish  the  submarine  has  en- 
countered vigorous  resistance  from  the  French  delegation  at  the 
conference.  Albert  Sarraut,  French  representative,  affirms  that  the 
submarine  is  pre-eminently  a  defensive  weapon.  Sarraut  pleads  for 
large  U-boats. 

Disarmament  was  a  pipe  dream. 


12  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

RUSSIA.  December  8.  Moscow  reports  two  thousand  cases  of  typhus 
in  the  city  alone.  Famine  afflicts  the  Volga  and  Ukraine  regions. 
December  2$.  Leonid  Krassin,  a  leading  Bolshevik,  has  arrived  in 
London.  Plans  of  a  conference  to  settle  the  Russian  and  German 
problems  are  being  bruited.  It  may  meet  at  Genoa.  The  London 
Times  writes,  "In  some  well-informed  circles  the  belief  exists  that 
Lenin  is  persuaded  of  the  failure  of  Bolshevism."  (The  "well- 
informed  circles"  are  not  very  well-informed.) 

Soviet  Russia  was  hungry  and  inscrutable. 

All  these  news  items  constituted  a  blueprint  of  the  future.  A 
month's  news  reports,  taken  at  random,  reveal  the  rotten  foundation 
and  the  ugly  fa?ade  of  European  peace*  Europe  was  winding  itself 
out  of  one  war  and  getting  ready  for  the  next. 

Between  the  summer  of  1914  when  the  first  World  War  com- 
menced, and  November  n,  1918,  when  its  Armistice  was  signed, 
5,152,115  soldiers  were  killed  and  12,831,004  were  wounded.  Ger- 
many counted  1,773,000  dead,  Russia  1,700,000  dead,  France  1,357,- 
800  dead,  Germany's  ally,  Austro-Hungary,  1,200,000  dead,  Great 
Britain  908,371  dead,  and  Italy  650,000  dead.  It  takes  a  lot  of  charity 
and  wisdom  to  wipe  out  so  much  blood.  But  there  was  little  charity 
and  less  wisdom  in  post- War  Europe. 


2.  Proud  Poles 

MY  first  "story"  as  a  foreign  journalist  took  me  east  from 
Berlin  to  Poland.  Before  leaving  America  I  had  called  on 
the  managing  editor  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post  and 
asked  him  if  I  could  work  for  the  paper.  He  said  they  would  be  glad 
to  read  anything  I  sent  and  would  pay  for  what  they  printed.  Beyond 
that  he  could  not  commit  himself.  He  was  right,  of  course.  I  had  no 
reputation  and  little  experience.  But  I  hoped. 

Poland  was  the  child  of  Allied  victory  in  1918. 
f  Napoleon  created  a  little  Poland  in  1806  and  called  it  the  Grand 
Duchy  of  Warsaw.  It  succumbed  to  Russia  when  he  limped  back 
'from  burning  Moscow.  The  Poles  boasted  a  glamorous  history.  They 
had  fought  the  Turks;  they  had  died  for  revolution  in  Italy  and 
America.  They  had  produced  some  great  men.  Statues  to  them  stood, 
perhaps  still  stand,  in  Warsaw:  to  Chopin,  the  composer,  Copernicus, 
-the  astronomer,  Mickiewicz,  the  poet.  But  the  Poland  born  of  the 
1919  peace  was  anticlimax  to  glory. 

Poland  included  eighteen  million  Poles  and  eight  million  Ukrain- 
ians, Germans,  Jews,  White  Russians,  and  Lithuanians.  These  eight 
million  non-Poles  were  that  many  problems  for  Poland,  for  the  Poles 
manifested  no  aptitude  to  govern  themselves,  let  alone  alien  races. 
But  eight  million,  apparently,  were  not  enough.  Marshal  Pilsudski, 
the  father  of  twentieth-century  Poland,  looked  around  for  more 
troubles  to  conquer.  He  coveted  several  million  additional  Ukrainians. 
He  marched  into  Soviet  Ukraine. 

It  was  1920.  Typhus  was  epidemic  in  Poland.  Herbert  Hoover, 
the  American  Jewish  Joint  Distribution  Committee,  and  the  Quakers 
fed  millions  of  Poles  with  American  food.  The  country  had  been 
crossed  and  criss-crossed  by  contending  armies  during  the  War.  Over 
half  a  million  homes  and  more  than  a  million  barns  were  destroyed. 
Poland  was  chaotic  and  poverty-stricken. 

Pilsudski,  in  a  fantastic  bid  for  power  and  glory,  chose  that  mo- 
ment to  attack  the  Bolsheviks.  Joseph  Pilsudski  was  regarded  as  a 

13 


14  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

genius.  The  Poles  said  he  was  mad  and  afflicted  with  syphilis,  but 
until  he  died,  they  obeyed  when  he  commanded.  His  war  on  Russia 
was  a  disaster.  The  Bolsheviks  drove  Pilsudski  back  and  pursued  his 
fleet  troops  to  the  very  gates  of  Warsaw.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the 
"Miracle  of  Warsaw,"  the  Polish  capital  might  have  fallen  to  the 
Soviets  in  1920.  Aided  by  the  French  General  Weygand  and  by  the 
Red  mistake  of  advancing  too  fast,  Pilsudski  repelled  the  Russian 
army.  He  then  faced  the  tasks  of  reconstruction  after  a  war  that  had 
been  a  complete  waste  of  time  and  life, 

This  Russo-Polish  conflict  caught  the  city  of  Vilna  in  one  of  its 
eddies.  Vilna,  capital  of  Lithuania,  was  in  Lithuanian  hands  when 
the  Poles,  following  in  the  tracks  of  the  retreating  Russians,  ap- 
proached the  city.  Fighting  broke  out  between  the  Poles  and  Lith- 
uanians. On  October  7,  1920,  the  two  hostile  camps  signed  an 
armistice.  Members  of  the  League  of  Nations  Military  Control  Com- 
mission were  present  to  lend  authority  to  the  agreement.  The  agree- 
ment gave  Vilna  to  Lithuania.  The  Poles  were  to  hand  over  the  city 
on  October  10,  But  on  October  9,  when  the  League  officials  had 
gone  away,  Colonel  Zcligowski,  a  Polish  army  officer  commanding 
Polish  soldiers,  seized  Vilna.  Then  the  comedy  commenced.  The 
Polish  government  called  Zcligowski  a  "rebel'*  and  Pilsudski  xvashed 
his  hands,  in  public,  of  Xcligowski's  coup,  and  said  the  colonel  had 
acted  without  orders,  Did  the  all-powerful  Pilsudski  discipline  Zeli- 
gowski?  No.  Was  Vilna  returned  to  Lithuania?  No.  Poland  declared 
that  Vilna  was  Polish,  and  now  that  the  Poles  had  occupied  Vilna 
it  ought  to  remain  Polish*  Except  to  the  purblind  the  farce  was 
wholly  transparent. 

A  little  drama  was  now  acted  out.  Vilna  ordered  a  plebiscite  to 
decide  whether  it  would  belong  to  Poland  or  Lithuania,  I  went  from 
Berlin  to  Vilna  to  watch  the  show.  It  did  not  take  long  to  sec  that 
Vilna  was  neither  Lithuanian  nor  Polish  but  Jewish-  Jews  called  it 
the  "Jerusalem  of  Lithuania/*  The  narrow  thoroughfares  were  filled 
with  Jews,  and  signs  in  Yiddish  hung  above  many  shops.  Polish 
leaders  I  interviewed  said  Jews  constituted  thirty-six  percent  of  the 
urban  population;  the  Jews  claimed  "nearer  fifty-five  percent/1 

In  Vilna  I  got  my  first  close-up  of  government  propaganda  at 
work-  The  Poles  were  crude.  Eleven  foreign  correspondents  had 
arrived  to  "cover**  the  plebiscite.  Seven  were  French,  two  British, 
two  American,  We  were  f&ed  every  evening  by  the  Polish  govern- 
ment press  department  Plenty  of  wine  flowed,  and  when  it  had  done 


PROUD  POLES  15 

its  work,  toasts  were  pronounced  to  "Poland"  and  to  "the  union  of 
the  French  and  Polish  nations." 

Late  Saturday  evening,  January  7,  1922,  the  eve  of  the  plebiscite, 
we  were  told  that  the  authorities  had  arranged  a  special  excursion 
for  us  the  next  morning.  The  journalists  would  go  out  in  cars  to  see 
the  peasants  vote  in  the  villages.  It  sounded  like  a  good  idea.  The 
automobiles  came  to  the  hotel  just  as  balloting  started  in  the  city. 
They  were  probably  the  best  vehicles  available,  but  their  tops  were 
of  canvas  and  the  side  flaps  were  open.  As  we  sped  along  the  highway 
icy  blasts  blew  in;  our  feet,  faces,  and  hands  were  frozen.  But  there 
was  compensation  for  the  acute  discomfort.  This  was  the  first  time 
I  saw  northern  forests  in  snow  and  ice.  The  woods  were  carpeted 
with  dazzling  white,  and  every  trunk,  every  branch,  every  twig  and 
pine  and  spruce  needle  sparkled  with  frost.  It  was  like  miles  of  silvery 
lace  hung  high  in  the  air.  Farmers  passing  on  their  horse-drawn  sleighs 
were  trimmed  with  icicles.  We  drove  for  hours,  endlessly  it  seemed. 
I  could  not  understand  why  it  was  necessary  to  go  so  far.  I  had 
wanted  to  watch  the  election  in  Vilna  itself.  Finally  the  cavalcade 
arrived  at  its  destination,  the  tiny  hamlet  of  Meshagola.  I  took  two 
snapshots  with  my  Kodak  and  I  still  have  them  in  my  scrapbook. 
They  show  some  of  those  ice-lace  trees,  and  peasant  women  wrapped 
in  woolen  shawls  and  woolen  headkerchiefs,  and  men  in  heavy  coats 
and  caps  or  tub  fur  hats.  All  the  adult  Meshagolans  had  been  cor- 
ralled to  the  wooden  polling  hut,  and  one  photograph  shows  a  Polish 
official  with  the  official  insignia  above  his  vizor  and  a  sheaf  of  papers 
in  his  hands  calling  out  a  voter's  name.  The  authorities  had  found  a 
purely  Polish  village  to  prove  to  us  the  people's  wholehearted  partici- 
pation in  the  plebiscite. 

We  returned  to  Vilna  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  little  while  later 
when  I  cleaned  up  and  went  down  into  the  city  streets,  the  voting 
was  over.  We  had  been  taken  out  of  Vilna  for  almost  the  entire  day 
so  we  could  not  observe  what  happened  in  it.  All  the  Lithuanians, 
White  Russians,  and  Jews  had  boycotted  the  elections.  They  con- 
stituted more  than  half  of  the  citizens.  But  they  knew  in  advance 
that  Vilna  would  remain  in  Polish  hands.  The  Jews  felt  Vilna  should 
have  gone  to  Lithuania*  So  did  the  League  of  Nations'  representatives 
who  lived  in  our  hotel:  a  Japanese  officer,  a  Swede,  and  a  Frenchman. 
They  made  no  secret  of  their  views.  One  of  them  even  told  a  local 
newspaper  with  unbelievable  frankness  that  he  was  preparing  a 


Id  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

memorandum  for  Geneva  discrediting  the  plebiscite.  Nevertheless, 
the  League  and  Europe  accepted  it. 

On  the  evening  of  the  plebiscite  Sunday,  a  ball  took  place  at  the 
villa  of  a  local  grandee,  and  all  the  foreign  correspondents  were  in- 
vited. The  shabby  Polish  provincial  aristocracy  was  there,  aping  what 
some  of  them  remembered  of  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg,  with  lor- 
gnettes—so many  nearsighted  women!— and  trains  and  little  fur  muffs 
and  dresses  that  were  certainly  pre-War,  and  the  army  officers  in 
high  leather  boots,  spurs,  and  tunics  worn  so  that  one  sleeve  trailed 
empty  behind  their  backs.  The  officers  clicked  heels,  kissed  hands, 
flirted,  bowed  stiffly  from  narrow  waists,  and  saluted  elderly  estate 
owners  with  great  military  chic.  One  thought  of  Broadway  and 
almost  forgot  the  Vilna  soup  kitchens.  Every  now  and  then  a  Polish 
press  attache  came  over  and  pointed  out  the  celebrities. 

I  spent  three  weeks  in  Poland  on  that  trip  and  saw  much  poverty 
and  squalor.  I  walked  the  streets  for  hours  and  studied  people's  faces; 
I  looked  into  stores  to  learn  the  prices  and  kinds  and  volume  of 
goods  available,  into  book  shops  to  see  what  Poles  read,  and  wherever 
possible  I  followed  the  old  European  custom  of  looking  into  the  win- 
dows of  private  homes.  Sometimes  I  would  leave  the  hotel  and  give 
myself  a  special  assignment:  to  note  the  quality  of  shoes  worn,  or 
to  count  the  number  of  automobiles  (they  were  just  emerging  in 
post- War  Poland ),  or  to  visit  churches. 

I  went  to  Warsaw,  Vilna,  Lcmberg,  the  capital  of  the  Ruthcnian- 
Ukrainian  province  of  Galicia,  Cracow,  and  Kattowitz,  the  great  Pol- 
ish coal-mining  center  within  sight  of  German  territory.  Poland  was 
wedged  in  between  two  great  empires.  It  had  been  granted  territory 
which  once  belonged  ro  both,  Its  safety  and  prosperity  depended  on 
both.  It  antagonized  both.  It  attacked  Russia  in  1920.  In  19x2,  it 
received  a  large  rich  sliver  of  Germany  in  Upper  Silesia  from  the 
Allies.  The  Versailles  peacemakers  originally  intended  giving  ali  of 
Upper  Silesia  to  Poland*  They  were  persuaded,  however,  to  let  the 
Upper  Silesians  vote  and  decide*  A  large  majority  of  the  province's 
population  voted  for  Germany.  But  the  French  would  not  permit 
the  valuable  industries  of  Upper  Silesia  to  go  to  Germany*  Polish 
gangs  under  Korfanty  fought  with  Polish  government  aid  against  the 
German  volunteer  Freikorps.  In  defiance  of  the  plebiscite  result, 
France  and  England-the  latter  reluctantly— thereupon  gave  the  lion's 
part  of  Upper  Silesia  to  Poland*  German  patriots  never  forgot  that* 


PROUD  POLES  17 

On  June  16,  1922,  when  the  transfer  of  territory  was  made,  President 
Ebert  ordered  all  flags  in  Germany  to  be  flown  at  half-mast. 

These  conflicts  with  Lithuania,  Russia,  and  Germany  were  un- 
necessary and  harmful.  Partly  they  arose  from  Poland's  illusions  of 
grandeur.  The  Poles  thought  they  were  a  great  power.  But  you  can- 
not be  a  great  power  when  more  than  half  of  your  27,000,000  inhabi- 
tants live  in  straw-thatched  huts  with  walls  of  mud  and  floors  of  dirt. 
The  Poland  of  1922  was  under-developed  economically.  Polish  rail- 
ways were  poor  or  non-existent.  Poland  had  no  port.  Farming  ma- 
chinery was  a  luxury.  Farm  methods  were  ante-Napoleonic.  The 
people  were  disunited,  culturally  backward,  ill-clad,  and  impecunious. 
The  political  system  contrived  to  keep  the  ablest  citizens,  the  Ger- 
mans and  Jews,  furthest  from  official  posts  of  responsibility.  Throw- 
ing Jews  out  of  moving  trains  and  pulling  out  their  beards  were 
approved  forms  of  Polish  gymnastics. 

This  Poland  should  have  looked  to  its  own  fences.  And  if  the 
Poles  lacked  the  sense  to  mend  their  ruins  and  ways,  more  intelligent 
leaders  of  Europe  should  have  told  them  what  to  do  and  made  them 
do  it.  Nobody  did.  Poland  was  another  muffed  Anglo-French  oppor- 
tunity. The  Poles'  national  vanity -was  in  inverse  proportion  to  their 
government's  ability. 


3-  Mourning  in  Vienna 

WHEN  I  went  to  Vienna  in  1922,  the  Danube  was  black, 
not  blue.  The  Vienna  of  waltzes,  song,  and  gala  ceremonies 
had  vanished  with  the  first  shot  of  the  first  World  War, 
By  1916,  Vienna  knew  starvation.  Emperor  Francis  Joseph  passed 
away  in  that  year.  lie  had  occupied  the  throne  for  sixty-eight  years* 
The  old,  decrepit  empire  was  as  ready  for  the  grave  as  he;  and  its 
actual  death  after  the  Gcrman-Austro-Bulgarian-Turkish  defeat  of 
1918  was  an  anticlimax.  The  peace  treaties  merely  parceled  out  the 
property  of  the  deceased. 

But  the  family  which  could  not  live  together  had  an  even  worse 
rime  living  separately. 

Austria  and  Hungary  dissolved  their  royal  partnership.  Slices  were 
cut  out  of  each  and  given  to  neighbors.  The  Czechs  and  Slovaks  of 
the  empire,  with  some  I  Hungarians  and  3,500,000  Sudeten  Germans, 
were  allowed  to  create  the  Republic  of  Czechoslovakia.  Austria 
claimed  those  Sudeten  Germans  at  the  Paris  negotiations,  and  the 
map-carvers  hesitated.  But  without  the  Sudeten  mountains,  Checho- 
slovakia could  not  be  defended  against  German  attack,  Moreover, 
economically  Sudetcnland  had  much  stronger  ties  with  Moravia  and 
Slovakia  than  with  Austria  or  Germany,  So  the  3,500,000  Sudeten 
Germans  went  to  the  new  Prague  state.  Another  quarter  of  a  million 
Tirolean  Germans  became  Italian  subjects  because  Italy  had  guessed 
right  and  fought  on  the  side  of  the  victorious  Allies,  The  incorpora- 
tion of  the  Tirol  into  Italy  extended  Rome's  rule  north  to  the  Brenner 
Pass~a  good  military  frontier. 

That  left  little  Austria  with  less  than  seven  million  inhabitants. 
Almost  two  million  of  these  lived  in  Vienna.  The  city  that  had  been 
sustained  in  splendor  by  a  vast  empire  now  rested  on  the  flimsiest 
foundations.  One-third  of  post-War  Austrians  were  peasants  who 
could  not  raise  enough  food  to  feed  the  nation;  one-third  were  in- 
dustrial workingmen  who  manufactured  too  much  for  the  nation  to 
consume;  the  last  third  were  officials  with  no  empire  to  rule,  officers 
with  no  army  to  command,  and  artists,  actors,  musicians,  writers, 

18 


MOURNING  IN  VIENNA  19 

teachers,  doctors,  lawyers,  and  intellectuals  whom  shrunken  Austria 
could  no  longer  support. 

Throughout  Europe  the  Quakers  were  doing  remarkable  work  for 
hungry  and  poverty-stricken  people.  In  Central  Europe,  in  Poland, 
Spain,  and  Russia,  the  Friends  saved  many  lives  and  spirits  by  their 
unselfish,  diligent  work.  Europeans  always  preferred  the  Quakers  to 
other  relief  workers.  They  trusted  them  more  and  did  not  suspect 
hidden  political  motives.  In  the  Quakers'  Vienna  headquarters  on 
the  Singerstrasse,  Dr.  Hilda  Clark  was  kindness  itself.  Several  times 
I  had  lunch  there  with  her  eager,  idealistic  staff.  It  was  through  the 
Friends  that  I  met  Professor  Hans  Ottwald. 

Professor  Ottwald  taught  English  literature  in  the  university  and 
earned  70,000  kronen,  or  crowns,  a  month.  "That  sounds  terrific," 
he  said  to  me,  "but  it  amounts  to  exactly  seven  dollars."  A  ton  of 
coal  cost  50,000  crowns,  a  decent  second-hand  suit  of  clothes  cost 
60,000  crowns.  Professor  Ottwald  was  able  to  buy  a  suit  from  the 
Quakers  for  only  10,000  crowns.  He  rejoiced  in  his  new  blue  suit. 
For  three  years  he  had  worn  his  old  one.  After  the  first  two  years, 
it  had  become  shiny  and  stained,  and  the  edges  of  its  sleeves  and  cuffs 
were  ragged.  For  1,200  crowns  a  tailor  had  ripped  it  apart,  cleaned 
the  cloth,  reversed  it,  and  sewed  it  together  again.  A  Viennese  in 
those  days  no  more  thought  of  using  only  one  side  of  a  suit  than  a 
newspaper  editor  would  think  of  printing  on  one  side  of  his  paper. 

Professor  Ottwald's  wife  had  died  during  the  War.  His  only  son, 
aged  eighteen,  lived  in  Denmark.  The  Quakers  had  placed  him  there 
with  a  Danish  peasant  family  in  the  hope  that  proper  nutrition  would 
help  cure  his  tuberculosis.  The  professor's  two  rooms  were  cold  and 
dark  in  the  evening,  and  every  day  at  eight  P.M.  he  therefore  went 
to  a  caf6.  The  caf£  was  large  and  roomy  and  its  upholstered  seats 
were  soft.  Professor  Ottwald  had  his  own  table,  marble-covered  like 
all  the  rest,  and  nobody  else  used  it.  Friends  knew  they  could  find 
him  there  from  eight  to  eleven-fifteen.  It  was  his  Stawmtisch.  His 
waiter  approached,  addressed  him  cordially  by  name,  chatted  for  a 
moment,  and  went  off  to  bring  the  cup  of  coffee  and  two  glasses  of 
water  on  a  metal  tray.  Another  employee  in  special  uniform  came 
over  and  handed  him  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung,  published  in  Ger- 
many. After  a  while,  the  same  employee,  having  observed  that  the 
professor  had  turned  to  the  last  page  of  the  Frankfurter  silently  laid 
the  London  Times  on  the  cool  slab.  What  Viennese  individual  could 
afford  to  buy  the  clean,  beautifully  printed  Times?  But  the  caf6  kept 


20  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  192!  TO  1930 

it.  Sometimes  colleagues  paid  the  professor  a  visit  and  they  reminisced 
and  laughed  or  exchanged  political  gossip.  Twice  a  week,  Dr.  Ott- 
wald  asked  for  ink  and  cafe  stationery  and  wrote  a  letter  to  his  son. 
In  another  corner,  two  men  played  chess  for  hours,  a  student  pre- 
pared his  physics  lesson,  a  teacher  wrote  his  lectures. 

The  cafe  in  Vienna  was  home  and  social  club  and  political  arena. 
Certain  cafes  were  frequented  by  Socialists  and  no  Monarchist  would 
enter  them*  The  Monarchists  had  their  own  cafe.  Other  cafes  whose 
high  prices  kept  ordinary  mortals  out  attracted  currency  speculators. 
In  still  other  coffee  houses  long-haired  poets  and  "left-wing  prosti- 
tutes" abounded.  A  few  of  the  speculators',  or  Schiebcr^  cafes  were 
closed.  Their  big  plate-glass  windows  had  been  smashed  in  the  De- 
cember food-shortage  riots.  At  that  time  it  looked  like  revolution* 
But  what  political  movement  would  want  to  take  over  a  bankrupt 
state  and  cope  with  its  insoluble  problems? 

Austria's  salvation  lay  outside  its  borders.  But  the  map,  human 
stupidity,  and  sectional  interests  interfered. 

Austria  had  leather,  iron,  water  power,  fcinc,  copper,  salt  deposits 
that  had  been  mined  since  the  dawn  of  history,  a  skilled  working 
class,  good  factories,  textile  mills,  and  forests.  She  could  produce 
abundantly.  Given  foreign  buyers  she  would  solve  her  problems. 
But  her  neighbors  wanted  to  buy  less  and  sell  more.  Each  little  coun- 
try in  Southeastern  Europe  aspired  to  economic  sclf-sufHeicncy. 

Austria  could  have  prospered  if  Southeastern  and  Central  Europe 
had  lived  a  normal  life.  Instead,  Vienna  buzzed  with  spies,  gangsters, 
Macedonian  bandits,  Turkish  dissidents,  Hungarian  Legitimists,  Bui* 
gariun  revolutionists,  peasant  opposition  leaders,  the  rivals  of  kings- 
Outs  that  wished  to  oust  the  Ins,  and  their  paid  assassins.  Vienna  was 
their  mho.  Gun-runners  and  go-betweens  darted  through  hotel  lob* 
bies,  whispered  in  cafes,  and  bribed  officials.  Customs  guards  had 
to  be  bought  or  gagged  or  killed.  Foreign  governments  had  their 
agents  here  to  check  on  the  activities  of  other  government  agents. 
The  atmosphere  was  heavy  with  possibilities  of  change*  Few  accepted 
the  peace  settlements  as  final* 

Rumania  kept  a  host  of  emissaries  in  Vienna.  Rumania's  population 
rose  from  7,600,000  in  1914  to  19,319,300  after  the  War;  Bucharest 
happened  to  be  on  the  winning  side*  The  Treaty  of  Trianon  between 
the  Allies  and  Hungary  assigned  1,500,000  Hungarians  in  Transyl- 
vania and  the  Banat  to  Rumania.  Rumania  likewise  adopted  about 
700,000  Germans  from  Hungary*  Then  in  1918,  Rumania  seized  the 


MOURNING  IN  VIENNA  21 

Russian  province  of  Bessarabia.  Finally,  the  Rumanian  Crown  Prince 
had  marched  an  army  into  the  Bulgarian  Dobruja  during  the  second 
Balkan  war  in  1913.  Rumania  thus  had  earned  the  enmity  of  Bul- 
garia, Russia,  Hungary,  and  Germany. 

Hungary  lost  territory  to  other  countries  than  Rumania.  One  mil- 
lion Hungarians  went  to  Czechoslovakia,  and  half  a  million  to  Yugo- 
slavia. Altogether,  Hungary  relinquished  two-thirds  of  her  territory 
and  two-fifths  of  her  population. 

To  safeguard  themselves  against  revenge,  the  three  new  nations 
that  had  ripped  strips  out  of  Hungary  formed  the  Little  Entente. 
Hungary  listened  for  their  whispers  and  negotiations  at  the  Balkan 
crossroads  in  Vienna. 

Bulgaria  had  also  been  among  the  losers.  Vae  victisf  By  the  Treaty 
of  Neuilly  (November  27,  1919),  Bulgaria  surrendered  fertile  West- 
ern Thrace  to  Greece,  England's  protege,  thereby  forfeiting  its  out- 
let to  the  Aegean  Sea;  it  also  lost  some  strategic  frontier  segments  to 
Yugoslavia.  More  reasons  for  rancor. 

The  Turks,  too,  were  still  a  Balkan  power  and  sent  their  under- 
cover observers  to  Vienna.  Yugoslavia  and  Bulgaria  had  admitted 
several  hundred  thousand  White  Russians.  Moscow  wished  to  know 
what  they  planned  to  do.  Moscow  thought,  wishfully,  of  revolutions 
in  Bulgaria,  Hungary,  and  elsewhere.  Moscow  men  made  Vienna 
their  headquarters.  Vienna  was  the  Balkan  conspiratorial  incubator. 
Good  stuff  for  novels  but  not  for  peace  and  business! 

The  best  frontier  is  three  thousand  miles  of  deep  ocean,  or  the 
Himalayas.  But  Rumania,  for  instance,  had  six  contiguous  neighbors- 
Russia,  Poland,  Czechoslovakia,  Hungary,  Yugoslavia,  and  Bulgaria— 
with  Turkey  not  far  off.  Even  friends  were  not  unalterably  friendly; 
and  foes  caused  each  other  fear.  National  economy  was  distorted, 
military  measures  were  exaggerated.  A  stolen  province  usually  meant 
a  frontier  hermetically  sealed  for  years.  No  merchandise  could  vault 
over  the  political  barrier.  The  map  fostered  poverty. 

Maps  have  always  fascinated  me.  Behind  the  pink,  green,  bluish 
patches  I  see  men,  women,  horses,  officers,  soldiers,  huts,  homes,  gov- 
ernment buildings.  But  what  intrigues  me  most  about  a  map  is  the 
unrealistic  question:  How  would  an  altered  geography  modify  his- 
tory, national  psychology,  economics,  politics?  Suppose  England, 
instead  of  being  an  island,  leaned  against  France  and  Holland.  Sup- 
pose there  were  no  Straits  of  Gibraltar  and  Africa  were  part  of 
Europe.  Suppose  a  sea  fifty  miles  wide  separated  Germany  from 


22  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

France.  Would  these  two  have  gone  to  war  so  often?  Napoleon 
might  have  conquered  Russia  if  Spain  had  been  a  fiat  plain.  A  large 
island  halfway  between  England  and  the  United  States  would  do 
what? 

Man-made  geography  likewise  shapes  the  fate  of  nations. 

In  modern  times,  the  status  of  any  single  citizen  is  affected  by 
that  of  all  the  citizens  of  a  nation.  His  educational  facilities,  govern- 
ment services,  communications,  amusements,  and  level  of  life  will 
be  worse,  even  though  his  home  district  is  wealthy,  if  the  remainder 
of  the  country  is  poor.  A  California  as  prosperous  as  it  is  today  would 
bolt  from  the  Union  if  the  other  forty-seven  states  were  as  badly  off 
as  Poland.  That  was  one  reason  for  the  North's  objection  to  slavery 
in  the  South,  and  it  is  still  a  puzzle  why  the  South  and  not  the  North 
seceded. 

In  a  federal  union  each  part  strives  to  improve  the  other  parts; 
without  a  federation  each  individual  unit  interferes  with  the  progress 
of  all  the  others.  This  was  especially  true  of  the  states  in  southeastern 
Europe.  Complementary  economies  were  broken  up  by  treaties,  con- 
quests, and  a  suicidal  urge  toward  being  nationally  self-contained. 
Each  nation  was  strong  enough  to  resist  the  natural  attraction  toward 
one  another.  But  none  could  withstand  the  pull  of  powerful  countries 
like  Germany,  Russia,  and  Italy. 

The  confusion  of  races  and  nationalities  in  the  Balkans  is  so  great 
that  any  boundary  works  injustice.  There  is  no  good  solution  of  this 
problem  except  decent  treatment  for  ethnic  minorities  in  sill  countries 
or  a  federation  of  all  these  countries.  Transfer  of  established  popula- 
tions is  cruel 

Vienna  mirrored  the  tragedy  of  central  and  southeastern  Europe. 
Vienna  mourned.  The  Friends  estimated  that  half  the  population  of 
Vienna  was  tubercular.  They  took  me  to  a  clinic*  The  low  vitality 
of  parents,  the  malnutrition  of  mothers,  and  war-time  childhood  had 
raised  a  harvest  of  unfortunates.  Rickets,  heart  and  nervous  disorders 
of  youth  and  adults,  venereal  illnesses  and  rheumatism,  filled  ward 
after  ward.  Many  people  on  the  street  should  obviously  have  been  in 
hospitals*  Mutilated  men,  wearing  "totally  blind'*  or  "wounded  in 
GalicZa"  signs,  recalled  the  terse  language  of  army  bulletins:  "Suc- 
cessful night  reconnaissance.1'  "Enemy  trench  captured  in  hand-to- 
hand  fighting/*  Or  even,  "AH  quiet  except  for  occasional  artillery 
fire," 


4-  Hitler  Is  Born 

EUROPE  was  sick  and  Germany  was  its  sick  heart. 
The  illness  went  back  to  the  War.  Millions  of  Germans— 
perhaps  the  majority  of  Germans— never  believed  that  the 
Allies  achieved  a  military  victory.  Germany  won  nearly  every  battle 
from  1914  to  1918.  As  late  as  the  offensive  of  March-to-May,  1918, 
General  Paul  von  Hindenburg,  the  Kaiser's  commander-in-chief, 
bent  the  Allied  lines  and  penetrated  perilously  close  to  the  French 
ports  on  the  English  Channel.  On  May  30,  the  Germans  reached  the 
Marne  River  again.  The  Allies  started  winning  only  in  the  second 
fortnight  of  July,  1918,  but  the  German  war  communiques  suppressed 
the  truth  until  October,  and  the  end  came  so  quickly  thereafter  that 
few  Germans  could  adjust  their  minds  to  the  idea  of  Germany's  de- 
feat on  the  battlefield.  Ludendorff,  the  greatest  German  military 
genius  of  the  War,  stated  bluntly  that  the  army  was  beaten.  "The 
war  must  be  ended,"  he  wrote  frantically  on  August  8.  By  Septem- 
ber 29,  the  German  Staff  was  clamoring  for  an  armistice.  "The  mili- 
tary situation  admits  of  no  delay,"  Hindenburg  declared  in  a  plea  for 
peace.  Yet  the  legend  of  the  unbeaten  German  army  was  created  at 
that  very  moment,  and  it  persisted  for  years  and  wrought  infinite 
mischief  in  the  interval  between  the  two  great  wars.  Facts  cannot 
compete  with  a  fiction  that  is  comforting. 

The  fiction  blamed  rebellious  German  civilians  for  Germany's  de- 
feat. To  lose  the  War  after  having  won  almost  all  the  battles  was  so 
startling  and  painful  to  patriots  that  they  invented  the  "stab  in  the 
back"  theory.  The  phantom  backstabbers  were  the  Socialists,  Com- 
munists, Jews,  democrats,  and  pacifists.  They  allegedly  stabbed  the 
nation  in  the  back  while  the  army  still  held  the  front.  An  unintel- 
ligent national  pride  made  it  seem  pleasanter  to  succumb  to  the 
furtive  hand  of  the  internal  foe  than  to  the  foreign  mailed  fist. 

The  authors  of  this  myth  obscured  the  simple  truth  that  the  last 
battle  is  decisive.  They  forgot  that  they  had  been  hungry  since  1916, 
Nations  do  not  win  wars  on  a  diet  of  turnips  and  beets  nor  in  half- 
paper  suits  that  melt  in  the  rain.  Germany's  man-power  was  ex- 

23 


24  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

hausted.  Germany's  allies  had  crumpled.  American  troops  had  come 
into  the  War  to  help  tip  the  balance  against  the  Kaiser.  But  the  mili- 
tarists and  reactionaries  who  had  conducted  the  war  wanted  to  evade 
the  guilt  of  losing  it. 

This  unhistoric  version  of  Germany's  defeat  in  the  first  World 
War  had  a  bearing  on  the  second.  It  meant  that  Germany  might  try 
again— provided  the  civilians  were  under  proper  control  Moreover, 
the  myth  suited  the  mentality  of  a  public  that  glories  in  military 
efficiency.  It  suited  the  army  which  could  hope  to  dominate  the  state 
again  if  its  prestige  remained  unimpaired.  It  was  a  cunning  Mon- 
archist weapon  against  the  democrats. 

The  Allied  victory  of  1918  brought  these  democrats  into  power 
in  Germany.  Germany's  defeat  made  Germany  democratic.  If  the 
Allies  and  the  German  democrats  had  not  committed  innumerable 
blunders,  Germany  might  have  remained  a  democracy. 

In  defeat,  the  leaders  of  German  militarism  scattered.  Ludendorff 
escaped  to  Sweden,  Hindenburg  went  into  silent  retirement  in  Ger- 
many. The  Kaiser  fled  to  Holland  on  the  advice  of  his  generals.  Me 
probably  would  have  been  quite  safe  had  he  stayed  at  home.  On 
November  7,  when  the  War  was  already  lost,  Kurt  Eisner  proclaimed 
a  radical  republic  at  Munich,  Bavaria.  In  the  first  days  of  November, 
sailors  rioted  at  Kiel  The  military  did  not  try  to  crush  these  revolu- 
tionary efforts.  The  army,  for  the  moment,  was  through.  The  Mon- 
archist government  abdicated.  It  was  through.  It  peacefully  trans- 
ferred the  reins  of  power  to  Fritz  Eberr,  a  conservative  Socialist. 
There  was  no  treachery  by  subversive  Civilians.  There  was  no  Ger- 
man Revolution.  The  lower  strata  of  society  did  not  rise  up  and 
smash  the  upper  crust.  Royalty*  nobility,  and  plutocracy,  momen- 
tarily frightened,  took  refuge  in  their  lairs  and  waited.  The  seats  of 
the  mighty  simply  stood  vacant,  and  those  from  the  depths  were  thus 
denied  the  £ian  or  satisfaction  of  having  fought  on  the  barricades, 
stormed  palaces,  and  shot  traitors.  The  old  was  not  destroyed.  The 
new  had  no  triumphs.  If  it  was  a  "revolution/*  it  was  a  typically 
German  revolution.  Nobody  stepped  on  the  grass. 

The  German  republic  itself  was  born  between  spoonfuls  of  soup. 
Philipp  Scheidemann,  bearded  Socialist  leader,  tells  the  graphic  story 
in  his  memoirs.  "With  Ebert,  who  had  come  from  the  Chancery  to 
the  Reichstag,"  and  other  friends,  Scheidemann  writes,  "1  sat  hungry 
in  the  dining-hall  Thin,  watery  soup  was  the  only  thing  to  be  had.9* 


HITLER  IS  BORN  25 

It  was  November  9,  1918.  The  Kaiser  and  Crown  Prince  had  abdi- 
cated the  previous  day.  They  had  given  up  the  War  as  lost. 

Scheidemann  meditated  over  his  tasteless  soup.  Suddenly  "a  crowd 
of  workers  and  sailors  rushed  into  the  hall  and  made  straight  for  our 
table.  Fifty  of  them  yelled  out  at  the  same  time:  'Scheidemann,  come 
along  with  us  at  once.  Philipp,  you  must  come  out  and  speak.' 

"I  refused;  how  many  times  had  I  not  already  spoken. 

"  'You  must,  you  must  if  trouble  is  to  be  avoided.  .  .  .  Liebknecht 
[Karl  Liebknecht,  the  Communist  leader]  is  already  speaking  from 
the  balcony  of  the  Palace.' 

"Well,  if  I  must. 

"  'Liebknecht  intends  to  proclaim  the  Soviet  republic.'  " 

When  this  information  reached  Scheidemann  he  made  up  his  mind. 
"Now  I  saw  clearly  what  was  afoot,"  he  writes.  "I  knew  his  {Lieb- 
knecht's]  slogan— supreme  authority  for  the  Workers'  and  Soldiers' 
Councils.  Germany  to  be  a  Russian  province,  a  branch  of  the  Soviet? 
No,  no.  .  .  *" 

Scheidemann  then  went  to  a  balcony  of  the  Reichstag  and  spoke, 
to  the  mass  of  men  below.  Carried  away  by  his  own  eloquence  and 
mindful  of  the  Liebknecht  threat,  Scheidemann  exclaimed,  "The  old 
and  the  rotten—the  monarchy— have  broken  down.  Long  live  the 
new!  Long  live  the  German  Republic!" 

Scheidemann  then  went  back  to  his  cold  soup.  When  Ebert  heard 
of  the  incident,  he  summoned  Scheidemann.  "Ebert's  face,"  Scheide- 
mann testifies,  "turned  livid  with  wrath.  .  .  .  He  banged  his  fist  on 
the  table  and  yelled  at  me:  'Is  it  true?'  .  .  .  *You  have  no  right  to 
proclaim  the  Republic.'  Ebert  to  a  certain  extent  was  not  a  free 
agent."  Ebert  and  Prince  Max,  the  Kaiser's  last  Chancellor,  had 
reached  a  secret  understanding.  They  proposed  to  appoint  a  regent. 
Ebert  would  be  "Imperial  Administrator"  until  the  people  quieted 
down.  Public  opinion  swept  away  Ebert's  plan.  But  Ebert  remained. 
He  was  the  Republic's  first  president.  Communist  agitation  had  built 
a  fire  under  the  Socialists  and  hastened  the  advent  of  the  Republic. 
The  ferment  in  the  working  class  convinced  Ebert  that  he  could  not 
salvage  the  monarchy.  He  stayed  to  save  the  capitalist  Republic, 

The  Socialists  saved  Germany  from  revolution.  They  feared  the 
Communists  more  than  the  reactionaries.  The  reactionaries  were  bid- 
ing their  time  while  the  Communists  threatened  to  act.  The  Commu- 
nist goal  was  a  Soviet  dictatorship  and  socialist  economics.  The  mod- 
crate  Socialists  denounced  this  as  "Asiatic  Bolshevism."  They  wished 


26  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

to  retain  and  reform  private  capitalism,  and  objected  to  the  violent 
overthrow  of  existing  institutions. 

The  Soviet  hand  had  showed  itself  in  Berlin.  The  Soviet  govern- 
ment and  the  Kaiser's  government  had  signed  the  Brest-Litovsk  peace 
treaty  on  March  5,  1918.  By  its  terms  Russia  abandoned  the  Allies 
and  ceased  fighting  Germany.  It  was  a  peace  at  the  tip  of  a  mighty 
German  sword.  The  Kaiser  thereupon  sent  an  ambassador  to  Moscow 
and  Lenin  sent  an  ambassador  to  Berlin.  Lenin's  envoy,  Adolf  A. 
Joffe,  was  new  as  a  diplomat  but  experienced  as  a  revolutionary,  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  Soviet  regime.  According  to  the  cold  official 
formula,  he  was  persona  grata  to  the  German  imperial  government* 
Actually  he  endeavored  to  overthrow  it.  He  hated  it.  It  was  imperial- 
ist and  he  was  a  Bolshevik*  Why  should  he  not  work  against  it?  He 
did-  That  was  the  direct  honest  approach  of  those  days.  Years  later 
he  told  me  the  story;  it  was  in  1927  when  Joffe  was  forty-four  years 
old.  Soviet  developments  had  filled  him  xvith  anguish  and  he  had 
decided  to  commit  suicide  in  demonstrative  protest  against  Stalin's 
policies.  Before  he  killed  himself  he  asked  me  to  come  see  hint.  I  had 
never  met  him,  and  had  not  requested  an  appointment*  But  he  sent 
me  a  message  through  a  mutual  friend.  He  wanted  to  talk  to  an  out- 
sider for  the  record.  What  he  revealed  was  confirmed  by  his  1919 
reports  which  he  took  from  his  files  and  showed  me.  I  lis  embassy  in 
Berlin,  he  said,  served  as  staff  headquarters  for  a  German  revolution. 
He  bought  secret  information  from  German  officials  and  passed  it 
on  to  radical  leaders  for  use  in  public  speeches  and  in  articles  against 
the  government.  He  bought  anus  for  the  revolutionaries  ant!  paid 
out  100,000  marks  for  them.  Tons  of  anti-Kaiser  literature  were 
printed  and  distributed  at  the  Soviet  embassy's  expense,  "We  wanted 
to  pull  down  the  monarchist  state  and  end  the  war,**  Joffc  said  to  me, 
"President  Woodrow  Wilson  tried  to  do  the  same  in  his  own  way.11 
Almost  every  evening  after  dark,  left-wing  Independent  Socialist 
leaders  slipped  into  the  embassy  building  on  Unter  den  Linden  to 
consult  Joffe  on  questions  of  tactics.  He  was  an  experienced  con- 
spirator. They  wanted  his  advice,  guidance,  and  money*  "In  the  end, 
however/1  Joffe  commented  ruefully,  "they,  we,  accomplished  little 
or  nothing  of  permanent  value.  We  were  too  weak  to  provoke  *t 
revolution."  He  thought  for  a  moment  and  added,  "We  probably 
shortened  the  war  by  a  month  and  saved  lives.  Some  generals  pro- 
posed a  fight  to  the  finish  rather  than  accept  the  Wikon-Foch  terms. 
They  wanted  to  go  down  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  Admiral  Schccr  of  the 


HITLER  IS  BORN  27 

German  navy  wished  to  lead  his  ships  out  to  challenge  the  British 
Grand  Fleet  in  open  combat.  He  knew  it  was  hopeless  but  he  hoped 
it  would  be  heroic.  The  sailors  at  Kiel  hoisted  the  red  flag  and  pre- 
vented the  vain  slaughter.  Prince  Max  of  Baden  did  not  send  troops, 
he  sent  Noske  [the  conservative  Socialist]  to  quell  the  Kiel  disturb- 
ances. That  was  canny  of  the  bourgeoisie." 

The  Monarchists  withdrew  from  the  scene  and  let  the  Socialists 
subdue  the  Communists  in  the  streets  and  face  the  enemy  at  Ver- 
sailles. That  placed  the  odium  of  the  peace  treaty  on  the  Socialists 
who  had  to  sign  it  because  nobody  else  would— Dr.  Bell,  a  Catholic, 
also  signed— and  left  the  others  free  to  condemn  it.  Abdication  was 
finally  wrenched  from  the  unwilling  Kaiser  by  the  argument  that 
German  democracy  would  get  better  terms  from  the  Allies.  He  and 
his  friends  regarded  the  Socialists  as  a  protective  f a§ade,  as  temporary 
seat-warmers.  It  might  have  been  better  to  compel  the  war-makers 
and  war  leaders  to  take  thwjmedicne.at..1^ersaUIes.  Instead  they 
stepped  aside  and  saved  their  skins  and,  many  of  them,  their  reputa- 
tions by  a  brief  vanishing  act.  The  roots  of  the  power  of  the  army, 
of  the  estate  owners  or  Junkers,  and  of  the  manufacturers  and  per- 
manent government  officials jemainedjintouched.  Within  two  months 
after  the  establishment  of  the  German  Republic,  the  Monarchists 
commenced  their  attacks  on  it.  In  1920,  they  attempted  to  overthrow 
it  by  Kapp's  insurrection.  By  1922,  they  had  enough  voting  strength, 
political  power,  and  propaganda-pressure  to  veto  many  of  the  liberal 
policies  of  the  new  democratic  regime,  and  a  year  later  business  mag- 
nates like  Hugo  Stinnes  enjoyed  more  influence  than  a  German  prime 
minister. 

When  I  arrived  in  Germany  at  the  end  of  1921,  the  Monarchy 
was  more  in  evidence  than  the  Republic.  The  republican  black-red- 
and-gold  flag  flew  from  public  buildings,  but  the  yachts  and  motor 
boats  in  the  lakes  around  Berlin  as  well  as  many  homes  consistently 
displayed  the  black-white-and-red  banner  of  the  Kaiser.  The  press 
of  the  Right  described  the  colors  of  the  republican  flag  as  "black- 
red-and-mustard,"  and  in  private  conversation  "mustard"  became 
something  even  more  disrespectful. 

..  Strolling  through  the  streets  of  Berlin  or  Munich  or  Hamburg,  I 
,,ould  note  the  firm  hold  of  the  imperial  Hohenzollern  tradition  on 
the  minds  of  the  people.  Scarcely  a  stationery  store  that  did  not  show 
in  its  windows,  and  sell,  glossy  black-and-white  or  sepia  postcard 
photographs  of  "Wilhelm  II:  German  Kaiser"— no  one  bothered  to 


28  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

call  him  an  "ex-"— and  portraits  of  the  entire  former  royal  family, 
especially  of  "the  dearly  beloved  and  much  mourned  Kaiscrin  Au- 
gusta Victoria."  In  hotel  foyers  and  hotel  rooms,  in  beer  gardens  and 
concert  halls,  likenesses  of  the  ex-Kaiser  hung  in  pre-War  promi- 
nence. Berlin  street  names  testified  to  the  timidity  of  the  republic: 
there  was  Kaiserallee,  Hohenzollerndamm,  Kocnigin  Augusta  Strasse, 
Kronprinzen  Ufcr,  Prinz  Rcgenten  Strasse,  and  so  on. 

Potsdam,  cradle  of  Prussian  militarism,  rang  with  festivities  on 
May  5,  1922.  It  was  the  birthday  of  the  former  Crown  Prince  Wil- 
helm.  The  town  was  gay  with  imperial  colors*  regimental  flags,  gen- 
erals, admirals,  and  other  officers  in  gala  attire,  with  heel-clicking 
soldiers  and  military  bands,  with  male  students  (embryo  men  and 
embryo  Nazis)  in  the  bright  braided  jackets,  tight  trousers,  and  bell- 
boy caps  of  their  dueling,  militantly  aristocratic,  anti-Semitic  fra- 
ternities* General  Ludcndorffs  house  in  Potsdam—he  returned  to 
Germany  in  spring,  1919,  when  the  anticipated  storm  was  no  longer 
anticipated— served  as  center  of  the  celebrations,  and  he  himself  was 
the  soul  of  the  agitation  against  Germany's  democratically  elected 
government.  The  Monarchists  published  numerous  daily  newspapers, 
weeklies,  monthlies,  and  books.  They  had  money,  position,  political 
security.  Their  capital  was  tradition.  They  strummed  the  chords  of 
sentiment*  They  were  playing  a  game  for  the  restoration  of  what 
had  once  been  their  exclusive  world  and  had  now  been  invaded  by 
workingmen,  shopkeepers,  men  without  titles,  intellectuals  without 
money,  Jews,  pacifists,  civilians  who  could  not  goosestep,  women— 
in  a  word,  by  ''democrats." 

A  film  was  packing  several  large  movie  houses  in  Berlin,  breaking 
all  records  of  attendance— **Frcdericus  Rex.*1  It  depicted  the  life  of 
King  Frederick  the  Great,  father  of  Prussia's  glory.  He  had  been 
opposed  to  soldiering*,  The  producer  showed  his  subsequent  conver- 
sion to  militarism,  Frederick  coined  the  slogan:  "Drill,  drill,  drill," 
Each  time  he  uttered  the  stupid  words  the  spectators  clapped  vo- 
ciferously. They  were  not  applauding  history,  much  less  an;  they 
were  making  politics.  And  then  this  scene:  Frederick  in  his  room 
waiting  to  be  crowned  "Rex**1  His  chief  of  staff  enters,  bows  low, 
exclaims  dramatically,  "Majesty,  your  people  call  you."  The  theater 
shook  with  floor-banging  and  hand-clapping.  The  noise  was  obvi- 
ously a  demonstration,  a  call  to  another  "majesty1*  not  yet  dead* 
Among  those  who  applauded  most  were  youngsters  who  had  just 
missed  the  "joys"  of  fighting  at  the  front,  boys  who  were  fifteen  or 


HITLER  IS  BORN  29 

sixteen  in  1918  and  to  whom  the  war  was  drums,  excitement,  and 
adventure.  Many  were  hooligans  who  established  their  manhood  by 
engaging  in  brawls  or  by  beating  up  Jews  in  dark  alleys.  It  was  not 
merely  the  rambunctiousness  of  youth,  however.  They  yearned  for 
a  Germany  that  was  strong,  strong  enough  to  fit  them  into  a  groove. 
They  wanted  to  be  cogs  in  a  great  machine  and  grieved  because  the 
machine  had  fallen  into  a  thousand  bits. 

Daily  a  Reichswehr  guard  of  sixteen  men  and  an  officer  marched 
through  busy  Berlin  streets  from  its  barracks  to  the  President's 
palace.  They  were  perfect  soldiers,  polished  and  clean  in  olive-green 
uniforms,  tin  hats,  and  leather  boots  that  reached  halfway  up  their 
calves.  They  goosestepped  in  unison  like  sixteen  robots,  like  one 
robot.  Germans  stopped  to  admire.  Women  and  chil^n^marched^ 
alongside.  Middle-aged  men  in  the  somber  clothes  of  merchants  or 
government  officials— high  wing  collar,  striped  trousers,  felt  hat- 
would  join  the  procession  and  solemnly  tap  out  the  left-right  rhythm 
with  a  cane  or  tightly  wrapped  umbrella.  They  were  trying  to  recap- 
ture their  youth,  perhaps,  and  see  whether  they  could  do  what  they 
had  practiced  twenty  years  before.  But  it  was  more  than  that.  They 
were  demonstrating  their  identity  with  the  glorious  army,  merging 
themselves  with  it  for  a  moment.  Versailles  had  limited  the  Reichs- 
wehr to  one  hundred  thousand  men,  but  spiritually  it  numbered 
millions. 

I  have  seen  Britishers  watch  the  changing  of  the  Horse  Guards  in 
Whitehall.  They  looked  on  it  as  a  brilliant,  colorful  spectacle,  a  part, 
along  with  fox  hunting,  of  the  feudal  past,  something  to  gaze  upon 
but  not  feel  about.  A  similar  ceremony  in  Germany  was  filled  with 
political  significance. 

Monarchy  also  had  a  popular  appeal.  It  evoked  memories  of  na- 
tional might,  prosperity,  and  pageantry.  The  anti-democrats  made 
political  capital  out  of  this  nostalgia  for  the  irrevocable  glory  of  the 
past.  But  for  them  it  was  less  important  to  crush  the  Republic  than 
to  control  it.  If  it  became  their  republic,  an  autocratic,  militaristic 
republic,  the  Kaiser  could  saw  Dutch  wood  forever.  When  Hinden- 
burg  was  elected  President  of  the  Republic  on  April  26,  1925  (at  the 
age  of  seventy-eight),  the  Monarchists  ceased  sighing  for  the  crown 
and  scepter,  the  ermine  and  the  purple.  Ludendorff,  the  Monarchist, 
worked  with  Hitler  who  was  anti-Monarchist,  Differences  on  the 
form  of  the  state,  on  manners  and  tactics,  vanished  before  a  unifying 
enmity  to  democracy  at  home  and  abroad* 


30  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  Junker  estate  owners,  the  ex-officers,  the  Pan-Germans, 
claimed  to  be  the  paragons  of  patriotism.  National  unity  was  ostensi- 
bly their  highest  concern.  The  Socialists  were  supposed  to  be  the  inter- 
nationalists. Yet  in  December,  1921,  Otto  Braun,  the  Socialist  presi- 
dent of  the  state  of  Prussia,  appealed  to  Germans  against  splitting  up 
Germany.  It  was  an  appeal  against  the  machinations  of  right-wing 
reactionaries  in  Bavaria  and  the  Rhineland,  who  wished  to  separate 
from  a  reparations-paying  Germany  dominated  by  Prussian  Socialists. 
Politics  and  purse  were  stronger  than  patriotism.  France  helped  kill 
these  German  separatistic  tendencies  by  financing  them.  In  the  main, 
however,  it  was  German  socialism  which  kept  Germany  intact  in 
the  years  immediately  following  the  first  World  Wan 

In  1919  and  until  1924,  the  moderate  Socialists,  who  called  them- 
selves Social  Democrats,  were  the  solid  core  of  German  political  life. 
No  stable  government  could  be  formed  against  them  or  without  their 
support.  The  reactionaries  on  the  Right  might  embarrass  the  gov- 
ernment with  propaganda  and  assassinations  but  they  were  too  few 
to  rule.  The  Rciehswehr  therefore  courted  the  Socialists. 

Governments  came  and  governments  went  in  republican  Germany, 
but  the  hand  that  guided  the  German  army  was  never  far  from, 
and  was  often  on,  the  rudder  of  the  ship  of  state.  To  safeguard  its 
existence  and  future,  the  army  adapted  its  colors  to  the  complexion  of 
the  state.  It  changed  during  the  years  from  Socialist  pink  to  Naxi 
brown*  It  co-operated  with  the  Russian  Red  Army  and  the  Italian 
Blackshirts,  with  Prussian  Socialists  and  Bavarian  Monarchists.  Politi- 
cal creed  mattered  less  than  power*  Reichswehr  officers,  to  be  sure, 
had  their  preferences.  Their  sympathies  were  for  the  Right*  But  they 
took  xvhat  they  could  get  from  each  government  in  office  so  as  to 
build  Germany's  military  might*  The  Reichswehr  wanted  law  and 
order  and  a  return  to  normal  conditions.  The  Socialists  gladly  leaned 
on  the  Rcichswehr  because  they  knew  the  dangers  that  threatened 
from  people  like  Kapp,  Ludcndorff,  the  Bavarian  Monarchists,  the 
Rhmcland  Separatists,  and  Ehrhardt's  terrorist  gangs. 

But  powerful  forces  worked  for  illegal  disorder.  At  the  lunch  hour 
on  June  24, 1922, 1  walked  out  of  an  office  into  the  street  and  imme- 
diately became  aware  of  an  extraordinary  quality  in  the  atmosphere, 
The  newspaper  vendor  at  the  corner  was  surrounded  by  eager  buyers 
as  he  kept  yelling,  "J?,Z.  &m  Mittag,  Rathenau  Ermordet***  The 
Foreign  Minister  of  Germany  had  been  shot  that  morning*  Europe 
heard  the  shot  and  shuddered 


HITLER  IS  BORN  31 

Walter  Rathenau's  father,  Emil,  founded  the  AEG,  or  General 
Electric  Company,  of  Germany.  The  son  was  president  of  the  firm. 
He  abandoned  business  to  become  foreign  minister.  He  wrangled, 
sometimes  successfully,  with  the  Allied  statesmen  to  reduce  repara- 
tions. He  sought  to  persuade  Germany  to  live  in  harmony  with  the 
victorious  powers.  He  was  diplomat  and  industrialist,  German  and 
Jew,  German  and  European,  physicist,  chemist,  philosopher,  and 
writer.  The  titles  of  his  books,  The  New  Society,  Of  Coming  Things, 
and  Democratic  Development  suggest  what  his  dreams  were.  His 
long  face  with  its  delicate  lines  reflected  the  wise  businessman  and 
cultivated  modern.  Even  when  he  addressed  the  rowdy  Reichstag  he 
spoke  in  a  whisper,  and  the  deputies  listened.  In  German  life  he  repre- 
sented the  pole  furthest  removed  from  the  ruffians  who  killed  him. 
He  was  fifty-five  when  he  died  on  the  street. 

Every  morning  Rathenau  drove  from  his  house  on  the  Koenigsallee 
in  the  Grunewald  suburb  to  the  Foreign  Office  in  the  Wilhelmstrasse. 
At  10:50  A.M.  on  June  24,  the  car  in  which  he  was  the  sole  passenger 
had  reached  the  intersection  of  Koenigsallee  and  Wallotstrasse  when 
an  automobile  carrying  three  young  men  dashed  by  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Nine  shots  were  fired  at  him,  and  then  a  hand  grenade  was 
thrown  into  his  machine.  After  the  first  shot  he  was  seen  to  rise  and 
attempt  to  give  instructions  to  his  chauffeur.  But  immediately  he 
slumped  back.  He  was  dead  before  he  could  be  taken  home.  Three 
revolver  bullets  had  entered  the  back  of  the  neck  and  gone  out 
through  the  right  breast.  These  alone  would  have  been  fatal.  -  .  . 

The  quest  for  the  murderers  started  forthwith  and  extended 
throughout  Germany.  A  reward  of  a  million  marks  was  offered  for 
information  leading  to  their  arrest. 

A  forest  gamekeeper  had  arrived  in  Berlin  that  morning  from  his 
province.  He  was  interested  in  automobiles.  He  was  at  the  spot  of 
the  murder  shortly  before  it  occurred,  and  when  he  read  about  it 
in  the  paper  he  reported  to  the  police  that  he  had  seen  a  powerful 
machine  at  10:30  A.M.  and,  because  its  radiator  was  covered  so  he 
could  not  discover  the  make,  and  the  motor  running,  he  stopped  and 
took  special  notice  of  it.  He  and  other  passers-by  described  the  chauf- 
feur and  the  single  occupant.  Both  wore  brown  leather  suits  and 
goggles,  and  were  between  twenty  and  twenty-five  years  old.  A  third 
man  walked  up  and  down  the  street  and  appeared  to  be  giving  signals 
to  the  man  in  the  back  of  the  car. 

The  moment  the  shots  had  been  fired  the  car  rushed  off  with  the 


32  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

three  men  in  it.  The  police  came  to  the  scene  without  delay  but  only 
bicycles  were  available  for  the  pursuit.  IA,  the  Police  Department  of 
Berlin  district,  sent  word  to  all  frontier  posts  to  watch  for  the  mur- 
derers. A  detective  story,  revealing  conditions  which  later  made  his- 
tory, began  to  unfold.  It  was  a  preview  of  Nazism. 

Everyone  took  it  for  granted  that  the  murder  was  political  The 
Socialist  press  charged  that  the  Nationalists  had  been  planning  a  St. 
Bartholomew's  Day,  a  massacre  of  democrats,  for  July  28,  News- 
papers said  President  Ebert,  Chancellor  Wirth,  Rathenau,  Scheidc- 
mann,  and  others  had  been  marked  as  victims. 

Several  hours  after  the  murder,  the  Reichstag  went  into  session. 
General  von  Schoch,  a  deputy  of  the  People's  Party,  a  conservative, 
Monarchist,  industrialist  group,  uttered  some  jocose  remarks  about 
the  sudden  passing  of  Rathenau.  The  Socialists  rushed  at  him  yelling 
"scoundrel"  He  ran  for  cover.  Then  Karl  Hclffcrich  entered.  He 
was  a  leader  of  the  German  Nationalist  Party,  and  the  day  before 
he  had  delivered  a  vicious  personal  diatribe  in  the  Reichstag  against 
Rathenau.  Helfferich  opposed  conciliation  of  the  Allies  and  the  pay- 
ment of  reparations.  As  he  stepped  into  the  Reichstag  now,  the 
Democrats  and  Socialists  greeted  him  with  loud  calls,  "You  arc  the 
murderer,"  "This  is  the  result  of  your  speech  yesterday/*  "Our  with 
the  murderers."  A  score  of  left-wing  Reichstag  members  approached 
him,  their  fists  ready*  His  fellow  Nationalists  surrounded  him  to  pro- 
tect him,  and  finally,  white  and  trembling,  he  left  the  chamber. 

The  same  day,  Chancellor  Wirth,  of  the  Catholic  Center  Party, 
visibly  moved  by  the  murder  of  his  closest  political  colleague,  rose  in 
the  Reichstag  and  facing  right,  exclaimed:  "Gentlemen  of  the  Right, 
things  cannot  continue  as  they  have  till  now*"  He  read  an  official 
proclamation,  "There  must  be  a  thoroughgoing  change*  This  grow* 
ing  terror,  this  nihilism  which  often  hides  under  the  cloak  of  patriotic 
sentiment,  muse  no  longer  be  treated  with  consideration.  We  shall  act 
quickly." 

Hundreds  of  arrests  were  made  as  the  police  scoured  the  country 
for  the  three  murderers.  Dr,  Weiss,  chief  of  police  in  Berlin,  issued 
a  bulletin  denying  that  the  hunt  was  being  directed,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  murdered  Catholic  statesman  Erzberger,  by  detectives  who  were 
Racists  (later  Nazis)*  Hie  Erzbcrgcr  murderers  had  never  been  cap* 
tured.  Weiss  promised  to  act  with  eneigy  this  time. 

The  police  were  studying  scores  of  threatening  letters  which 
Rathenau  had  received  from  anonymous  writers.  Rathenau's  sccrc- 


HITLER  IS  BORN  33 

tary  turned  them  over  after  the  murder.  The  police  themselves  had 
suspected  something,  and  for  some  time  two  detectives  had  trailed 
the  foreign  minister.  On  the  morning  of  the  murder,  however,  he 
was  unescorted. 

Rathenau  had  submitted  to  the  detectives'  protection,  but  each  eve- 
ning when  he  went  to  dine  with  his  agecj  mother  he  slipped  away 
from  them  so  that  she  would  not  be  alarmed.  During  the  first  three 
days  after  the  murder,  Frau  Rathenau  received  numerous  insulting 
letters,  and  her  telephone  rang  incessantly.  She  did  not  reply,  of 
course,  but  when  the  maid  lifted  the  receiver  the  voice  at  the  other 
end  would  say:  "So  we  got  your  bastard  son."  Or,  "Serves  the  Jew 
right."  Or,  "He  is  only  the  first." 

Three  hours  after  the  murder,  Werner  Flesch,  a  student,  forced 
his  way  into  the  Reichstag  building  and  delivered  a  laurel  wreath  for 
Karl  Helfferich  with  the  inscription,  "To  the  Savior  of  German 
Honor."  Flesch  was  known  as  an  ardent  adherent  of  Captain  Ehr- 
hardt,  the  chief  of  a  subversive  organization  known  as  "O.C."  On 
June  25,  Flesch  was  arrested.  Karl  Tillessen,  retired  lieutenant,  and 
brother  of  the  murderer  of  Erzberger  who  fled  to  Austria,  was  also 
arrested. 

All  airdromes  received  strict  instructions  from  the  authorities  to 
accept  no  passenger  who  was  not  fully  identified.  In  Helsinki,  the 
Finnish  police,  at  the  request  of  the  German  legation,  arrested  three 
members  of  the  crew  of  the  German  S.  S.  Ruegen  in  connection  with 
the  Rathenau  assassination. 

The  workingmen  in  the  city  of  Karlsruhe  tore  down  the  "By 
Royal  Appointment"  and  "Deliverers  to  the  Kaiser"  signs  over  nu- 
merous stores.  Crowns  on  public  buildings  were  smashed.  The  muni- 
cipality of  Magdeburg  ordered  the  Monarchist  names  of  streets  al- 
tered to  "Rathenau  Street,"  "Erzberger  Street,"  "Einstein  Street," 
"Avenue  of  the  Republic,"  and  so  on.  Similar  changes  were  made  in 
Berlin  and  elsewhere. 

On  June  28,  police  found  the  automobile  of  the  murderers.  It  was 
a  highpowered  Mercedes  with  modern  lines  and  had  been  left  in  a 
west-end  garage  the  very  afternoon  of  the  deed.  The  garage  manager 
was  arrested  for  not  reporting  this  fact.  He  declared  that  a  chauffeur 
had  come  to  him  on  June  20  and  rented  space  for  the  car,  saying 
that  he  was  waiting  for  his  employer  to  arrive  from  another  city. 
The  description  of  the  chauffeur  given  by  the  manager  coincided 
with  that  given  by  the  forester. 


34  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

In  the  morning  of  June  29,  Chief  of  Police  Weiss  published  the 
names  of  the  murderers.  They  were  Ernest  Werner  Techow,  chauf- 
feur, aged  21,  born  in  Berlin,  dark  blond;  Hermann  Fischer,  also 
called  Vogel,  25,  light  blond;  Erwin  Knauer,  alias  Koerner  and  Kern, 
25,  blue  eyes,  light  blond,  participant  in  the  Kapp  putsch.  Weiss 
revealed  that  he  had  learned  the  names  three  days  earlier  but  sup- 
pressed them  because  he  thought  the  murderers  might  still  be  hiding 
in  Berlin.  Now  he  had  reason  to  believe  they  had  gone  to  the  prov- 
inces and  he  was  broadcasting  their  names  and  publishing  their  photo- 
graphs because  he  hoped  to  embarrass  their  friends  to  whom  they 
might  come  for  food,  lodging,  and  money.  All  three  belonged  to 
Ehrhardt's  secret  O.C 

Luck  brought  a  specimen  of  Fischer's  handwriting  to  the  police. 
Fischer  had  spent  the  night  before  the  murder  in  a  lodging  house  in 
Berlin.  He  knew  the  housemaid  there  and  before  coming  into  town 
he  wrote  her  a  letter  telling  her  of  his  impending  arrival  and  asking 
her  to  go  dancing  with  him  that  evening.  He  also  protested  his  love 
and  signed  "Hermann."  When  she  saw  his  photograph  in  the  press 
the  maid  delivered  the  letter  to  the  authorities  who  were  thus  in  a 
position  to  include  a  facsimile  of  it  in  the  reward  placards*  Visitors 
to  inns  and  hotels  had  to  register,  and  even  if  Fischer  signed  a  false 
name  the  way  he  formed  his  letters  would  serve  as  a  basis  of  com- 
parison, 

On  June  29,  Ernst  Werner  Techow,  the  driver,  xvns  arrested  in 
Frankfurt-on-the-Oder  and  brought  to  Berlin  under  heavy  guard 
His  father  had  been  a  rich,  respected  merchant  and  judge,  politically 
neutral,  who  died  in  1918.  His  mother  lost  the  family's  money  in  the 
inflation,  and  from  the  same  cause  the  pension  which  the  govern- 
ment paid  her  dwindled  almost  to  nothing.  Ernst  Werner  Tcchow, 
the  press  said,  was  a  member  of  a  **Right  Bolshevik  association.** 
(Subsequently,  this  loose  term  was  translated;  "right0  became  Na- 
tionalist, "Bolshevik1*  became  Socialist.  Together,  National  Socialist 
or  Nazi*)  Techow  fought  in  the  Monarchist  Kapp  putsch  in  19*0, 
In  the  same  putsch,  a  younger  brother,  Hans,  then  fourteen  years 
old,  organized  high-school  boys  to  act  as  runners  and  ammunition 
carriers*  (Hans  later  became  an  intimate  co-worker  of  Baldur  von 
Schirach,  leader  of  the  Hitler  Youth  Movement  under  the  Nazi 
government.) 

On  June  30,  Chauffeur  Techow  confessed.  The  auto,  he  declared, 
belonged  to  Heir  Kuechenmeister,  a  rich  manufacturer  in  Saxony 


HITLER  IS  BORN  35 

who  lent  it  for  the  crime.  On  telegraphed  instructions  from  Berlin, 
Kuechenmeister  was  arrested.  Two  mine  throwers,  six  heavy  machine 
guns,  four  light  machine  guns,  150  rifles,  and  thirty  cases  of  ammuni- 
tion were  found  in  his  plant. 

Despite  this  great  initial  success,  the  police  now  lost  all  trace  of 
the  other  two  murderers.  Fischer,  born  in  1896  in  Florence,  Italy, 
where  his  father  was  a  sculptor,  was  still  at  large  with  his  friend, 
Erwin  Kern.  Hundreds  of  detectives  searched  the  countryside.  They 
used  motor  cars,  motorcycles,  and  bloodhounds  who  had  been  given 
the  scent  of  the  murderers'  car  and  of  Techow's  clothes.  But  for  a 
week  they  registered  no  progress.  Suddenly,  on  July  10,  Chief  of 
Police  Weiss  arrived  at  Gardelegen,  a  small  town  eighty-five  miles 
due  west  from  Berlin,  in  the  big  Mercedes  employed  by  Fischer  and 
Kern  for  the  assassination,  and  set  up  his  headquarters  there.  Fischer 
and  Kern  were  seen  on  that  day  in  the  vicinity.  A  village  physician 
observed  them  anxiously  perusing  a  map.  A  schoolteacher  reported 
that  the  two  men  stopped  him  on  a  road  and  asked  the  way  to  Gif- 
horn.  They  were  on  bicycles.  Detectives  followed  this  clue  until 
farmers  told  them  that  they  had  seen  two  men  cycling  in  the  opposite 
direction.  This  went  on  for  hours.  One  person  sent  the  police  on 
one  trail  and  the  next  person  on  a  totally  different  one  until  Weiss 
and  his  assistants  became  convinced  that  the  population  was  delib- 
erately deceiving  them  in  order  to  facilitate  the  murderers'  escape. 
The  police  thereupon  hunted  down  the  informants  and  arrested  them. 
This  was  a  region  of  villages  and  tiny  towns  whose  inhabitants  were 
notoriously  Monarchist  and  Racist.  In  several  small  urban  centers  the 
reward  notices  were  torn  down.  The  police  had  drawn  a  solid  ring 
from  Gardelegen  to  Braunschweig  to  Brandenburg,  but  with  the  aid 
of  local  people  the  two  criminals  broke  through. 

To  create  public  sentiment  for  the  Rathenau  murderers  the  reac- 
tionary Berlin  Deutsche  Tageszeitung  stated  that  before  accepting 
the  offer  to  become  German  foreign  minister,  Dr.  Rathenau  inquired 
in  Paris  whether  he  should  take  the  post.  The  Berlin  democratic  press 
rejected  this  canard.  The  Berliner  Tagebltttt  collected  public  sub- 
scriptions amounting  to  210,118  marks  as  an  additional  reward  for 
those  who  found  the  murderers.  The  government  raised  its  own 
reward  from  one  million  marks  to  two  million.  A  considerable  num- 
ber of  people  were  arrested  on  the  charge  of  feeding  and  housing 
Fischer  and  Kern.  The  people  pleaded  ignorance,  and  said  they  did 
not  read  newspapers  and  had  seen  no  reward  placards. 


36  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  police  were  desperate.  If  the  Rathenau  murderers  eluded  the 
trap  set  for  them  just  as  the  Erzberger  assassins  had,  there  would  be 
a  premium  on  political  terror  against  republicans,  and  perhaps  a  St. 
Bartholomew's  Massacre  would  indeed  take  place  on  July  28.  More- 
over, the  police  would  be  discredited  and  the  hoodlums  and  swastika 
patriots  encouraged.  Weiss  increased  his  force  of  detectives;  nearly 
a  thousand  trained  men  were  assigned  to  the  case  throughout  Ger- 
many. Weiss  was  not  dealing  with  two  men,  but  with  two  men  and 
untold  sympathizers  ready  to  harbor  and  save  them. 

On  July  12,  came  news,  confirmed  by  reliable  witnesses,  that 
Fischer  and  Kern  had  spent  the  previous  night  in  a  flophouse  in 
Schoeningen.  They  had  left  at  five-thirty  in  the  morning  on  their 
bicycles-  Weiss  sent  forty-five  policemen  to  head  them  off.  He  sus- 
pected they  were  making  for  the  Hans  Mountains*  Meanwhile,  at 
headquarters  in  Gardelegen,  hundreds  of  Germans  were  being 
brought  in  for  questioning.  Many  were  later  released,  a  few  held. 
Under  persistent  cross-examination,  a  forester  in  Lcnxen  admitted 
having  put  the  murderers  up  for  a  night.  They  had  been  recom- 
mended to  him  by  a  rich  merchant  from  Kalies.  Thousands  of  clues 
kept  coming  in,  some  obviously  calculated  to  mislead.  Berlin  created 
a  new  special  section  of  fifty  police  officials  to  examine  volunteer 
witnesses. 

Detectives  investigated  every  estate  and  meadow  and  farm  in  the 
vicinity  of  Schoeningen*  Every  hut  was  entered.  Several  reports  sug- 
gested that  the  men  were  short  of  money.  The  police  thought  the 
murderers  would  therefore  try  to  get  back  to  Berlin  where  it  might 
also  be  easier  to  disappear  from  sight*  Accordingly,  ail  roads,  main 
and  tributary,  from  Genthin  to  Stendal  to  Brandenburg  to  Berlin 
were  closed;  pedestrians,  cyclists,  and  automobilists  had  to  show  iden- 
tification papers.  Every  railway  station  in  the  area  and  in  Germany 
was  watched  The  farming  population  was  warned  by  proclamation 
that  anyone  caught  defacing  the  reward  posters  would  be  severely 
punished*  Special  "Don't  Help  the  Rathenau  Murderers"  notices 
were  pasted  up. 

The  police  announced  that  the  murderers  traveled  by  night  on 
bicycles  and  hid  during  the  day.  The  police  could  check  some  of 
their  movements  but  could  not  catch  up  with  them.  On  the  night  of 
the  eleventh  they  were  in  Wismar.  They  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Herr  Otto,  a  businessman,  and  retired  naval  captain.  He  gave  them 
bread  and  wine  but  would  not  let  them  stay*  From  there  they  went 


HITLER  IS  BORN  37 

to  Neukloster  and  called  on  a  school  comrade  named  Karl  Bauer. 
He  too  fed  them  and  sent  them  on  to  Herr  Wiese,  a  retired  officer. 
Wiese  said  they  told  him  they  were  students  on  a  hike,  and  gave 
their  names  as  Funke  and  Koester.  It  was  impossible  to  establish 
whether  Wiese  believed  them  or  not.  In  any  case,  he  passed  them 
,pn  to  a  friend  who  was  chief  secretary  of  the  Post  Office  in  Lenzen. 
The  secretary  invited  them  to  dinner.  He  advised  them  to  take  a 
room  in  the  near-by  Hotel  zur  Sonne,  which  they  did.  At  the  hotel 
it  was  stated  that  the  two  hunted  men  did  sleep  there  but  left  early 
in  the  morning  and  crossed  the  Elbe.  They  were  short  of  funds  and 
looked  weary  and  bedraggled. 

Police  established  patrols  through  the  Harz  Mountains,  The  in- 
numerable hotels  and  inns  of  this  great  German  tourist  and  vacation 
area  were  visited  by  detectives.  Occupants  were  awakened  in  the 
night  and  searched  and  questioned  on  the  spot.  In  one  village  two 
young  cyclists  were  arrested.  They  turned  out  to  be  innocent.  In 
another  place,  reports  reached  the  police  that  a  couple  of  cyclists 
were  seen  studying  maps  and  acting  queerly.  The  police  found  them, 
too,  but  they  were  not  the  murderers.  The  police  now  felt  convinced 
that  the  Swastika  organizations  were  sending  scores  of  cycling  male 
couples  into  the  region  of  search  with  instructions  to  behave  suspi- 
ciously and  complicate  the  task  of  the  authorities. 

Berlin  announced  that  Maximilian  Harden,  famous  German  liberal 
gadfly  publicist,  editor  of  the  weekly  Zukitnft  (Future),  attacked  by 
armed  youths  on  July  3,  was  sinking  from  loss  of  blood.  His  assail- 
ants were  also  being  tracked  down. 

On  July  14,  the  police  arrested  a  man  at  Wittenberg,  north  of 
Gardelegen.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Rossbach,  a  secret  subversive 
society,  and  had  explosives  in  his  possession.  He  was  not  implicated 
in  the  Rathenau  murder,  the  police  stated,  but  the  government  sus- 
pected that  the  Racists  were  planning  to  assassinate  other  prominent 
republicans  so  as  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  police  from  Fischer 
and  Kern. 

At  the  city  of  Hanover  the  police  chased  two  suspicious  men, 
who  escaped  to  a  village  in  the  running  fight.  One  was  wounded 
but  both  escaped.  Were  they  Fischer  and  Kern  or  were  they  sym- 
pathizers trying  to  mislead  the  searchers?  The  police  could  not 
answer  the  question* 

The  government  of  the  state  of  Bavaria  was  putting  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  the  Prussian  police.  Count  Preger,  the  Bavarian  ambassa- 


38  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

dor  in  Berlin,  told  the  Federal  Council  of  Justice  that  Bavaria  was 
tired  of  being  in  the  Reich  federation  and  insisted  on  State  rights, 
He  denied  that  Munich  could  not  co-operate  in  the  hunt  for  Fischer 
and  Kern,  but  behind  these  words  the  police  saw  a  Bavarian  inten- 
tion to  create  difficulties.  The  police  became  feverish.  Fischer  and 
Kern  were  heading  south  for  Bavaria*  If  the  murderers  reached  that 
destination  the  chase  would  be  well-nigh  hopeless,  for  Bavaria  was 
also  the  safe  haven  of  refuge  of  the  Erzberger  assassins. 

On  Sunday,  July  16,  two  young  salesmen  from  Halle,  on  an  out- 
ing in  the  country,  came  to  a  hill  surmounted  by  a  castle.  They  in- 
quired from  local  residents  about  the  castle  and  were  told  that  it  was 
an  old  structure,  dating  back  centuries.  One  of  its  ancient  towers  was 
a  ruin,  but  the  other  was  inhabited  by  Count  Hans  Wilhelm  Stein 
and  his  wife  who,  however,  were  away  on  a  trip*  Saaleck  Castle  was 
therefore  not  open  for  inspection*  The  salesmen  nevertheless  climbed 
the  hill  and  saw  lights  in  the  inhabited  tower*  They  approached  the 
windows  and  looked  in.  Two  men  were  sitting  and  reading  news- 
papers. They  resembled  the  poster  pictures  of  the  murderers.  The 
salesmen  tiptoed  away,  descended,  and  informed  the  police* 

On  the  seventeenth,  the  hill  and  castle  were  surrounded  by  de- 
tectives. This  time  hopes  of  success  were  high*  A  locksmith  was 
fetched  from  town  but  the  key  inside  was  turned  so  skillfully  that 
he  failed  to  open  the  door.  No  sign  of  life  came  from  the  inside. 
The  police  retired  to  the  wood  surrounding  Saalcek  Castle  and 
waited  all  morning-  They  waited  part  of  the  afternoon*  As  twilight 
approached  two  young  men  stood  up  on  the  battlement  of  the  castle 
tower,  waved  handkerchiefs,  and  cried,  "Leave  us  alone."  Then  they 
retired  within*  Half  an  hour  later  they  reappeared  and  yelled,  "Up 
Captain  Ehrhardt."  The  police  decided  to  break  into  the  castle.  As 
they  approached,  the  two  men  inside  shouted,  "You  cowards,  come 
on/*  and  fired.  The  police  returned  the  fire.  A  moment  later,  between 
blows  of  a  battering  ram  that  was  smashing  the  door,  one  voice  in 
the  castle  was  heard  exclaiming,  "We  are  dying  for  our  ideals.  Greet 
Ehrhardt*  Long  may  he  live!  Hoch!"  Then  a  shot  rang  out  inside 
and  all  was  quiet.  The  police  entered.  Fischer  lay  dead  on  the  floor 
with  a  revolver  in  his  right  hand.  He  had  put  it  5n  his  mouth  and 
pulled  the  trigger*  Upstairs  Kern  was  lying  dead  in  a  bed.  He  had 
been  felled  by  a  police  shot.  Fischer  had  dragged  him  up  to  the  bed- 
room and  tried  vainly  to  stop  the  profuse  flow  of  blood.  When 
Kern  died  Fischer  committed  suicide.  Both  were  buried  in  the  Saa- 


HITLER  IS  BORN  39 

leek  cemetery.  (The  Hitler  regime  erected  a  monument  to  them.) 
On  their  bodies  were  found  three  thousand  marks.  Their  bicycles 
were  gone.  They  had  three  maps  and  two  bottles  of  bock  beer  bought 
in  a  store  on  the  outskirts  of  Gardelegen.  Saaleck  is  one  hundred 
miles  south  of  Gardelegen.  Their  outer  clothing  was  new.  They 
had  discarded  the  clothing  worn  in  Berlin.  Bloodhound  recognition, 
photographs,  and  every  other  sign  definitely  confirmed  Fischer  and 
Kern  as  Rathenau's  murderers. 

Kern  was  known  to  the  police  as  the  man  who  helped  Captain 
Dittmar,  a  Kapp  putsch  leader,  to  escape  from  prison.  Dittmar  hid 
in  Saaleck  Castle  after  his  flight.  At  that  time,  too,  Count  Stein  was 
away  on  a  trip.  Stein  was  arrested  on  the  eighteenth.  He  had  long 
been  an  outstanding  member  of  the  Nationalist  Party. 

The  Rathenau  murder  and  this  tale  of  the  murderers  unfold  a 
map  of  the  ground  in  which  the  Hitler  regime  sprouted  and  flow- 
ered. International  developments  and  German  domestic  events  some- 
times fertilized  the  soil.  In  other  years  they  killed  the  plants  that 
grew  on  it.  But  the  roots  never  died. 

Dr.  E.  J.  Gumbel,  higher  mathematics  professor  at  Heidelberg 
University,  has  tabulated  the  political  murders  of  Germany.  In  1921 
and  1922,  the  Right  committed  354  assassinations  of  leading  repub- 
licans. No  Right  leader  was  killed. 

The  assassins  were  often  inspired  by  the  older  Monarchists,  but 
they  themselves  were  not  Monarchist.  They  were  not  anything  in 
the  early  years  of  the  Republic.  They  had  no  definite  constructive 
goal,  no  program.  They  rebelled  against  governmental  authority 
but  joyously  submitted  to  the  rigorous  discipline  of  their  own  secret 
societies.  They  thirsted  for  adventure,  danger,  and  violence.  They 
detested  the  soft,  liberal,  humanistic  tones  of  the  Republic.  Theirs 
was  a  cult  of  blood,  brute  strength,  and  brawn.  They  despised  intel- 
lect, business,  and  the  bourgeoisie.  No  one  took  these  Nazis  seriously. 
But  they  took  themselves  seriously,  and  that  is  what  mattered  in 
the  end. 

Their  Freikorps  or  volunteer  semi-military  formations  enveloped 
themselves  in  a  romantic  fellowship  that  had  originated  in  the  World 
War  trenches.  Upon  demobilization  from  the  army  they  had  organ- 
ized in  bands  under  Captain  Ehrhardt  and  other  desperate  charac- 
ters. They  had  fought  in  Latvia,  Esthonia,  and  Finland  against  the 
Bolsheviks,  against  the  Poles  in  Upper  Silesia,  and  against  working- 


40  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

men  and  the  Republic  in  Germany.  Ehrhardt  was  their  "Consul." 
When  the  government  declared  them  illegal  they  doffed  their  uni- 
forms with  the  Viking  ship  sewed  on  the  sleeves  and  reappeared  as 
tourist  associations,  sports  clubs,  study  circles,  chess  circles,  private 
detective  bureaus,  wandering  circuses.  One  group  labeled  itself  O.G, 
Organization  Consul.  The  Berlin  authorities  wanted  Ehrhardt  for 
high  treason.  Officially,  he  had  fled  to  Innsbruck,  Austria.  It  was 
public  knowledge,  however,  that  he  came  to  Munich  whenever  he 
wished  to  instruct  his  youthful  subversive  followers.  (Count  Arco, 
who  murdered  Kurt  Eisner,  was  also  at  large  in  Munich.)  These 
Freikorps  stored  arms  at  convenient  hide-outs  throughout  Germany, 
but  Bavaria  was  their  stronghold  because  its  political  climate  was 
most  congenial  to  their  anti-government  activities.  Many  of  them 
were  later  encountered  in  the  Gestapo  or  secret  police,  the  Brown- 
shirts,  and  the  black-uniformed  S.S.  guard  of  the  Nazi  government* 

I  visited  Bavaria  in  May,  1922,  and  went  to  Oberammergau,  in 
the  Bavarian  Alps,  where  the  celebrated  Passion  Play  is  performed. 
Up  in  the  mountains  above  the  village,  huge  crosses  cut  in  rock  dom- 
inated the  vicinity,  and  one  slept  on  high,  downy  beds  under  cru- 
cifixes of  bone,  stone,  and  wood*  The  peasants  were  mild  and  kindly, 
soft-spoken,  smiling,  and  eager  to  please  the  visitors  who  even  in 
that  disturbed  year  came  from  all  ends  of  the  earth,  especially  from 
Ireland  and  Italy.  The  villagers  who  did  not  ace,  made  and  sold 
souvenirs.  The  whole  village  lived  by  religion. 

Then  one  descended  to  Munich,  the  capital  of  Catholic  Bavaria. 
Munich  was  the  center  for  modern  art,  for  a  neo-paganism  preached 
in  beer-halls,  for  conspiracies  hatched  against  the  state  under  the 
open  eyes  of  Bavarian  officials.  When  President  Ebcrt  visited  Mu- 
nich he  was  attended  by  a  heavy  bodyguard  and  he  kept  out  of 
public  sight  as  much  as  possible.  The  republican  Bag  was  often  torn 
down  and  burned. 

Immediately  after  Rathenau's  murder,  the  federal  government 
asked  the  Reichstag  to  adopt  an  emergency  Defense  of  the  Republic 
'bill,  granting  the  authorities  wider  powers  to  deal  with  dissident 
elements  and  assassins*  The  act  was  a  pressing  necessity,  but  the 
Nationalists  deliberately  delayed  its  passage  until  the  day  after  the 
Rathenau  murderers  were  found  dead*  The  Nationalists  wished, 
above  all,  to  exclude  Bavaria  from  the  operations  of  the  new  legis- 
lation. They  failed.  But  then  Bavaria  refused  to  submit  to  it. 

A  significant  thing  happened.  Gustav  Stresemana's  industrialist 


HITLER  IS  BORN  41 

People's  Party  supported  the  emergency  Defense  of  the  Republic 
Act.  The  People's  Party  had  been  avowedly  Monarchist.  But  no 
Monarchist  party  could  participate  in  a  republican  government.  And 
politicians  like  to  be  in  office.  The  People's  Party  accordingly  aban- 
doned its  Monarchism  when  the  popular  reaction  against  the  Rathe- 
nau  murder  convinced  Stresemann  that  monarchism  would  always 
bar  the  industrialists  from  controlling  the  Republic.  The  loyalty  of 
the  Reichswehr  to  the  Republic  also  influenced  Stxesemann's  deci- 
sion. 

The  Socialists  put  no  trust  in  this  sudden  conversion.  The  Center 
and  the  Democrats,  however,  found  comfort  in  the  People's  Party's 
modified  stand.  The  Democrats  were  large  and  small  tradesmen,  offi- 
cials, intellectuals,  and  enlightened,  progressive  factory  owners— a 
bourgeois  organization.  The  Center,  unlike  other  German  parties, 
did  not  represent  a  horizontal  social  stratum  in  the  way  the  Social- 
ists and  Communists  represented  the  workers,  or  the  Nationalists 
the  landowners,  and  the  People's  Party  the  big  industrialists.  It  rose 
vertically  through  the  strata  and  recruited  from  all  of  them  on  a 
religious  basis.  Thus  it  boasted  the  support  of  big,  well-organized, 
and  well-led  trade  unions,  largely  Catholic  in  membership,  and  also 
of  Catholic  landlords  and  Catholic  manufacturers,  merchants,  and 
Bavarian  reactionaries.  For  this  reason  the  Center  party  usually  had 
a  stable  following  no  matter  how  swiftly  the  German  political  pen- 
dulum swung  from  side  to  side.  It  consented  to  collaboration  with 
Socialists  but  never  relished  this  role,  and  it  certainly  preferred 
Stresemann  to  the  left-wing  Independent  Socialists.  So  when  Strese- 
mann protested  his  republicanism,  the  Center  and  some  Democrats 
saw  here  a  possibility  of  salvation  from  Socialist  preponderance  in 
the  government* 

The  Left  tide  was  running  out. 

The  workers  were  earning  paper  money  whose  purchasing  power 
vanished  hourly;  tradesmen  were  being  ruined  by  inflation;  the 
standard  of  living  of  officials  fell  steadily.  But  anybody  who  owned 
property  or  exported  goods  abroad  sailed  on  top  of  the  wave.  A 
farmer  in  1921  owed  a  debt  or  mortgage  of  one  thousand  marks*  At 
that  time,  this  equaled  the  price  of  two  cows.  A  year  later  he  paid  his 
indebtedness  with  the  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  twenty  quarts  of 
milk.  Industrial  producers  drew  even  greater  advantages  from  finan- 
cial chaos.  A  workingxnan's  average  real  wage  amounted  to  only 
thirty-five  cents  a  day.  There  was  little  unemployment.  Germany's 


42  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

working  population  was  engaged  erecting  vast  industrial  empires 
for  Stinnes,  Krupp,  Otto  Wolff,  and  the  rest.  These  manufacturers 
produced  with  cheap  labor  and  exported  the  product.  Foreign  coun- 
tries paid  gold,  and  industrialists  kept  their  gold  abroad.  They  were 
taking  wealth  out  of  Germany,  impoverishing  their  country  and 
its  people,  but  enriching  themselves.  Mr.  Gerard,  the  prc-War 
American  ambassador  to  Germany,  said  in  New  York  in  July,  1922, 
after  a  two  months'  trip  to  Europe,  "The  only  people  [in  Germany] 
making  money  are  the  manufacturers  who  are  able  to  sell  their 
products  abroad  for  gold  and  pay  their  workers  low  wages.  The 
Junkers  are  getting  on  well." 

These  circumstances  gave  the  industrialists  a  stranglehold  on  the 
economic,  and  soon  on  the  political,  life  of  Germany.  Certain  per- 
sons even  accused  this  inner  German  circle  of  deliberately  keeping 
the  mark  down  in  value  so  that  they  could  acquire  new  property 
inside  Germany  and  gold  hoards  outside. 

Throughout  1922,  German  housewives  staged  numerous  riots. 
Haggard  and  weary,  often  emaciated  and  anemic,  they  stood  in 
their  neatly  laundered  and  clean  threadbare  clothes  waiting  for 
hours  in  long  queues.  The  meager  family  earnings  did  not  satisfy 
the  family's  hunger*  Sometimes  prices  rose  while  the  queue  was 
moving  forward  and  then  the  housewife  had  to  go  home  for  more 
money,  if  she  had  it,  or  buy  still  less*  Frequently,  their  patience  ex- 
hausted and  their  nerves  frayed,  they  smashed  store  windows  or  bent 
up  storekeepers,  damning  them  as  speculators  and  profiteers*  The  gov- 
ernment was  powerless- 
How  did  the  Allies  behave  during  the  Rathcnau  murder  emer- 
gency? Did  they  help  the  German  Republic  bridge  the  crisis?  No. 
Germany  asked  for  a  moratorium*  Chancellor  Wirth's  slogan  was, 
"First  bread,  then  reparations."  Germany  desired  to  be  excused  from 
reparations  payments  until  December*  David  Lloyd  George,  still 
Prime  Minister  of  Great  Britain,  would  have  granted  the  request. 
But  Premier  Raymond  Poincar6  demurred,  and  violently-  Poincare 
was  a  small  man  and  a  lawyer.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  knew 
everything  and  understood  nothing*  Native  of  Lorraine,  a  province 
recovered  from  Germany  in  1918,  he  feared  and  hated  Germany. 
His  view  was  narrowly  national,  "We  ask  only  what  is  due  us." 
German  reparations  payments  had  been  included  in  the  French 
government's  budget  as  an  income  Item,  and  if  Germany  failed  to 


HITLER  IS  BORN  43 

pay,  the  French  government  could  not  meet  its  obligations.  But 
suppose  Germany  defaulted?  Then  sanctions.  Poincar6  carried 
around  a  plan  for  the  invasion  of  the  Ruhr. 

The  bulk  of  reparations,  when  paid,  went  to  France  and  Belgium 
for  they  had  suffered  most  property  damage  from  the  War.  Repara- 
tions and  inflation  were  strangling  British  foreign  commerce.  Some 
London  economists  realized  that  reparations  were  economic  mad- 
ness. On  July  10,  1922,  the  LoTidon  Times,  the  rhythm  of  whose 
editorials  often  beats  in  unison  with  the  heart  of  the  London  City, 
or  financial  district,  published  an  editorial  entitled  "The  German 
Crisis"  which  said,  "It  is  high  time  for  Great  Britain  and  France 
to  take  sober  and  earnest  counsel  together  against  the  gathering 
menace  to  the  fruits  of  our  common  victory."  In  the  peculiar  Times 
elliptical  style  this  was  going  far,  but  a  week  later  it  actually  resorted 
to  the  rude  word  "controversy."  A  controversy  was  raging  between 
London  and  Paris.  The  British  government  favored  a  moratorium  for 
Germany.  It  invited  Premier  Poincar6  to  come  to  London  and  talk  it 
over.  He  postponed  the  reply;  then  he  accepted  "in  principle"  but 
delayed  fixing  the  date  of  the  trip.  Finally  he  arrived  on  the  seventh 
of  August.  There  was  the  usual  fanfare  when  a  great  statesman  boards 
trains  and  alights  from  trains.  Poincare  and  Lloyd  George  attended 
numerous  "momentous"  ceremonies.  History  was  supposedly  being 
made  in  secret  conclave.  But  after  seven  long  days  of  behind-the- 
scenes  bickering,  during  which  Germany  held  its  breath  and  stock- 
market  tickers  oscillated  nervously,  the  Anglo-French  conversations 
broke  up  in  officially  announced  disagreement.  Poincare  wanted  con- 
trol of  German  mines  and  forests,  and  would  not  hear  of  deferring 
Germany's  reparations  installments.  Europe  was  left  to  drift.  The 
dollar  bought  840  marks  on  August  4.  It  bought  1,440  marks  early 
on  August  24.  During  business  hours  on  August  24,  the  mark  fell  so 
much  that  in  the  evening  a  dollar  bought  1,975  marks. 

The  German  people  suffered.  Private  homes  equipped  with  elec- 
tricity and  gas  used  kerosene  lamps  because  they  were  cheaper. 
Cities  groaned  from  overcrowding,  and  foreigners  rented  the  best 
apartments.  Coal  was  rationed.  Markets  and  second-hand  stores  over- 
flowed with  musical  instruments,  carpets,  paintings,  and  fine  books 
sold  by  impoverished  members  of  the  middle  class.  Thousands  of 
amateur  music  teachers,  masseuses,  typists,  waitresses,  salesgirls,  re- 
cruited from  formerly  comfortable  families,  depressed  the  standards 
of  pay  in  these  and  similar  professions.  Night  cafes,  cabarets  with 


44  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

naked  dancers,  gambling  dens,  and  vulgar  vaudeville  shows  attracted 
large  clienteles  of  splurging,  ostentatious  profiteers,  get-rich-quick 
inflation  millionaires,  and  the  social  flotsam  and  criminal  scum  that 
move  in  their  wake.  Fortunes  made  in  a  day  were  dissipated  over- 
night. Prostitutes  complained  of  heavy  amateur  competition.  Fre- 
quent robberies  occurred  in  the  apartments  of  foreigners.  Public- 
school  pupils  lacked  the  means  for  the  purchase  of  pencils,  books, 
and  paper.  Sometimes  teachers  contributed  these  from  their  own 
slender  salaries.  Physicians  with  diplomas  organized  against  quacks 
and  miracle  healers.  Suicides  multiplied.  Most  suicides  employed 
gas  because  it  cost  little.  Many  newspapers  and  weeklies  suspended 
publication  on  account  of  increased  expenditures  and  reduced  cir- 
culation. Paper  cost  fifty  times  the  pre-War  price.  Innumerable 
Germans  gave  up  buying  flowers,  and  Germans  love  flowers,  A 
medical  examination  of  school  children  in  Berlin  showed  15.7  percent 
normally  fed,  17.1  percent  well-fed,  67.2  percent  underfed.  Chil- 
dren frequently  fainted  in  class. 

Germany's  light  was  going  out. 

The  German  people  suffered,  and  yearned  for  mcssiahs  and  pana- 
ceas. Astrologers  did  brisk  business.  They  advertised  extensively  in 
newspapers.  Louis  Haeusser,  like  Ribbentrop,  was  a  champagne 
salesman.  He  lost  his  money  and  became  a  wandering  preacher*  He 
called  himself  "The  New  Christ."  He  taught  celibacy  and  the  pure 
life.  "Suppress  your  sex,"  he  yelled  at  meetings-  Thousands  listened 
wherever  he  went. 

In  its  illustrated  section,  the  Berliner  Tagebfatt  printed  a  photo- 
graph of  a  tall  man  with  high  forehead,  dark  unkempt  hair  that  fell 
to  his  shoulders,  and  long  beard  down  to  his  chest*  He  wore 
sandals  over  his  stockingless  feet,  a  skirt  with  ragged  hem,  and  a 
cape.  He  was  distributing  leaflets  to  pedestrians.  The  newspaper 
called  him  another  specimen  of  the  "messiah  plague"  which  was  af- 
flicting Germany. 

In  Munich,  a  man  of  thirty-three  with  less  hair— he  had  only  a 
small  mustache  and  tiny  beard— but  possessing  a  hypnotic  voice  and 
queer  manner  and  who  did  not  have  much  sex  to  suppress  was  mak- 
ing speeches  to  small  audiences.  His  name  was  Adolf  Hitler.  His 
father's  surname  was  Schicklgruber,  He  hated  workingmen  and 
Jews  and  had  not  as  yet  distinguished  himself  by  any  love  of  truth. 
He,  too,  promised  redemption. 

Hitlers  and  Haeussers,  "Chrises"  and  pagans,  itinerant  mystic  con* 


HITLER  IS  BORN  45 

solers,  political  assassins,  and  conspirators  reflected  the  spiritual  tra- 
vail and  material  troubles  of  a  nation  in  adversity.  On  the  somewhat 
higher  plane  of  philosophy,  Oswald  Spengler,  the  German  thinker, 
simultaneously  glorified  physical  strength,  force,  race,  the  state,  and 
war,  and  derided  culture  and  individual  personality  in  his  The  De- 
cline of  the  West.  Privations  and  national  humiliation  bred  immoral- 
ity, vulgarity,  and  despair. 
The  friends  of  the  Rathenau  murderers  were  waiting  for  a  leader. 


5.  Lenin's  Russia 

THE  Allies  were  afraid  that  Germany  would  succumb  to  Bol- 
shevism. "Ordinary  common  prudence/*  Prime  Minister  Lloyd 
George  said  in  1922,  demanded  that  England  and  France  treat 
Germany  decently  in  order  to  save  her  from  Communism.  Russia,  one 
heard,  was  prostrate  after  eight  years  of  war  and  famine*  Yet  at  the 
mention  of  Soviet  Russia  some  men  quaked  and  some  cheered.  The 
truth  about  Russia  was  apparently  elusive. 

Russia  had  always  fascinated  me.  In  my  youth  I  had  read  the 
great  novels  of  Count  Leo  Tolstoy  and  Dostoevsky  and  many  of  the 
stories  of  Turgenev,  Gogol,  and  Maxim  Gorky  in  English  transla- 
tion* Russia  emerged  a  land  of  mysticism  and  misery.  At  the  age 
of  twenty  I  avidly  devoured  Prince  Peter  Kropotkin's  Memoirs  of 
a  Revolutionist.  There  seemed  to  be  a  wealth  of  ideas  and  art  in 
poor,  downtrodden  Russia.  Russia  was  large,  empty,  distant,  eastern, 
and  apparently  so  civilized  yet  uncivilised. 

From  Berlin,  in  1922,  I  saw  Russia  at  closer  range-  A  revolution- 
ary regime  had  supplanted  the  world's  symbol  of  reaction.  Icono- 
clasts had  taken  over  the  country  of  the  ikon*  The  strong  brute 
groped  for  modern  weapons.  East  was  being  dragged  westward  and 
the  West  feared  it.  Russia,  ever  visionary  and  missionary,  talked 
about  reshaping  Europe.  If  Europe  had  needed  no  reshaping  it  would 
not  have  been  so  worried. 

Bolshevism  was  a  protest  against  the  Europe  that  had  made  the 
first  World  War  and  the  peace  that  followed*  It  was  a  protest  too 
against  the  future  war  implicit  in  that  peace.  My  vague  sympathy 
for  Soviet  Russia  was  first  of  all  a  reaction  against  the  chaos,  dis- 
unity, dishonesty,  and  despair  of  the  rest  of  Europe.  I  never  thought 
of  Soviet  Russia  as  a  Utopia*  I  knew,  when  I  first  went  there  in 
September,  1922,  that  I  was  going  to  a  land  of  starvation.  If  I  had 
mistakenly  expected  a  paradise  I  would  have  been  disillusioned  after 
the  first  glance.  In  Lenin's  Russia  of  1922, 1  looked  not  for  a  better 
present  but  for  a  brighter  future*  I  also  expected  clean  politics  and 
a  foreign  policy  that  rejected  conquest,  colonies,  imperialism,  and 

46 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  47 

the  lying  that  is  often  synonymous  with  diplomacy.  I  anticipated 
an  equality  between  people  and  politicians.  I  had  read  the  statements 
of  Lenin,  Trotzky,  Chicherin,  Litvinov,  and  other  Soviet  officials. 
They  were  frank  and  strong.  The  notes  of  Foreign  Commissar  Chi- 
cherin to  foreign  governments  shot  holes  in  the  screen  of  hypocrisy 
behind  which  bourgeois  statesmen  tried  to  hide  their  activities.  They 
threw  a  searchlight  of  humor,  logic,  and  truth  into  the  blackness  of 
world  affairs.  I  suspected  that  Moscow  would  be  fun. 

Soviet  Russia,  moreover,  was  conceived  by  -its  creators  as  the 
kingdom  of  the  underdog.  Evolution  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest; 
civilization  is  the  survival  of  the  unfittest.  The  Bolsheviks  undertook 
to  serve  civilization  by  aiding  those  handicapped  by  poor  parents, 
inadequate  education,  bad  health,  and  slave  psychology. 

I  was  born  in  the  Philadelphia  slums  to  poor  parents.  My  father 
worked  as  a  laborer  in  a  factory  and  then  graduated  to  selling  fish 
and  fruit  from  a  pushcart.  I  can  still  hear  his  cry,  "Peaches,  fresh 
peaches."  Sometimes  I  hauled  the  empty  pushcart  to  the  stable.  My 
mother  took  in  washing.  The  family  moved  whenever  it  could  not 
pay  rent— which  was  often.  Until  I  reached  the  age  of  sixteen,  I  never 
lived  in  a  house  with  electricity,  running  water,  or  an  inside  lava- 
tory, or  any  heat  except  from  a  coal  stove  in  the  kitchen-living  room. 
We  frequently  starved,  and  for  many  years  the  only  good  meal 
my  sister  and  I  ate  each  week  was  the  one  given  us  by  a  rich 
aunt  on  Friday  evenings.  A  long,  intimate  acquaintance  with  pov- 
erty killed  my  dread  of  it.  In  later  years,  I  could  always  reduce  my 
needs  to  my  means  and  I  never  craved  security.  But  life  as  I  had 
seen  it  could  certainly  stand  improvement.  Especially  did  I  feel  that 
society  has  an  obligation  to  help  us  overcome  the  accident  of  birth. 
It  does  so  often,  but  not  often  enough. 

Yet  for  some  reason  that  I  cannot  explain  to  myself  now,  the  two 
Russian  Revolutions  occurred  without  making  the  slightest  impres- 
sion on  me.  I  do  not  remember  the  abdication  of  the  last  Czar  in 
March,  1917.  I  was  in  the  United  States  and  must  have  been  read- 
ing newspaper  accounts  of  this  historic  change,  but  my  memory 
did  not  register  it.  When  the  Bolshevik  Revolution  occurred  on 
November  7,  1917, 1  was  in  Canada,  a  volunteer  in  the  British  army. 
During  the  "Ten  Days  that  Shook  the  World,"  I  was  learning  to 
form  fours  and  fire  a  rifle.  Lenin  and  Trotzky  stirred  no  ripple  in 
my  calm  existence. 
But  in  Europe,  in  1921  and  1922,  Russia  could  not  be  ignored. 


48  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Russia  exercised  all  minds.  Foreign  Commissar  Georgi  Chicherin, 
accompanied  by  Maxim  Litvinov,  Christian  G.  Rakovsky,  Adolf  A. 
Joffe,  Karl  Radek,  and  others  had  passed  through  Berlin— where 
Chicherin  hired  Markoosha,  expert  typist  and  translator,  to  do  part 
of  his  secretarial  work— and  gone  on  to  the  Genoa  Conference.  It 
was  Bolshevism's  first  formal  appearance  on  the  European  stage. 
What  manner  of  men  were  these?  Did  they  wear  black  beards  and 
hold  knives  between  their  teeth?  In  Genoa,  they  argued  long  among 
themselves  before  deciding  to  don  tails,  top  hats,  and  white  ties  or 
tuxedos  as  the  occasion  required.  Chicherin  bowed  low  to  a  king 
and  clinked  glasses  with  a  Catholic  archbishop  aboard  an  Italian  man- 
of-war. 

"What  is  your  opinion  of  the  Versailles  Peace  Treaty?"  a  jour- 
nalist asked  Rakovsky  at  a  press  conference  in  Genoa.  "Treaty  of 
Versailles?"  "Treaty  of  Versailles?"  said  Rakovsky,  as  though  trying 
to  recall  some  faint  memory.  "Treaty  of  Versailles?"  this  highly 
cultivated  European  and  intellectual  repeated,  "I  know  nothing  about 
it."  The  Soviets  dissociated  themselves  from  the  European  peace. 
That  was  a  point  in  their  favor.  The  words  of  Rakovsky  won  Ger- 
many's collective  heart,  and  he  stirred  warm  emotions  for  his  coun- 
try in  many  others,  myself  included. 

At  Genoa,  the  Allies  refused  to  talk  sense  with  either  the  Ger- 
mans or  the  Russians.  The  Germans  and  Russians  accordingly  con- 
cluded the  Rapallo  Pact  of  friendship  between  themselves,  Russia 
began  to  play  an  important  role  in  world  affairs*  I  decided  to  go 
and  see. 

I  first  went  to  Russia,  via  peaceful,  prosperous  Stockholm  and 
sleepy  Tallinn,  without  a  xvord  of  the  language,  and  with  two  let- 
ters of  recommendation  from  Markoosha— one  to  Asya  Finger,  a 
Russian  friend,  another  to  Eliena  Krylenko,  secretary  of  Litvmov, 
sister  of  the  Soviet  attorney  general  and  later  the  wife  of  Max  East- 
man. On  the  train  I  met  Sidney  Hillman  of  the  Amalgamated  Cloth- 
ing Workers  of  America  with  two  advisers,  W.  CX  Thompson  and 
Dean  Howard,  who  proposed  to  recondition  several  clothing  fac- 
tories and  show  the  Russians  how  to  run  them.  Hillman  spoke  Rus- 
sian and  when  we  reached  the  Moscow  railroad  station  he  got  me 
a  horse  cab  and  told  the  driver  to  take  me  to  the  Savoy  Hotel. 

The  Savoy  was  full,  but  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  Jim  Howe,  Asso- 
ciated Press  correspondent,  who  let  me  sleep  in  one  of  his  two  beds 
until  a  vacant  room  became  available.  American  correspondents 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  49 

abroad  are  a  fraternity.  The  fraternity  has  no  name,  no  officers,  no 
meetings,  no  dues,  and  no  fixed  membership.  But  whenever  an  Amer- 
ican newspaperman  arrives  in  a  foreign  capital  he  has  friends  whom 
he  has  never  seen.  He  need  only  telephone  one  of  the  resident  Amer- 
ican journalists  and  say,  "This  is  Charles  X  of  the  Chicago  so-and- 
so,"  and  the  reply  will  be,  "Where  are  you?  Come  on  over.  Will 
you  know  how  to  get  here?"  and  he  will  be  handed  around  to  other 
colleagues,  and  introduced  to  officials  and  given  meals,  teas,  and 
information.  There  is  fierce  competition  among  them,  but  also  cor- 
dial collaboration,  and  the  visiting  writing  "fireman"  who  just  drops 
in  for  a  fortnight  or  weekend  is  never  lost  in  the  strangest  environ- 
ment. 

They  were  killing  giant  rats  in  the  corridors  of  the  Savoy  at  the 
time,  but  it  was  the  only  accommodation  open  to  bourgeois  for- 
eigners who  had  no  private  apartments. 

What  a  strange  city!  I  walked  the  streets  of  Moscow  for  hours 
each  day.  Red  Moscow  was  in  the  grip  of  an  orgy  of  capitalist  busi- 
ness. 

From  1918  to  1921,  Soviet  city  people  and  the  army  lived  on 
rations  given  to  them  by  the  government.  The  peasants  had  to  sell 
their  crops  to  the  government.  The  government  paid  with  paper 
rubles.  Paper  currency  is  good  if  you  can  buy  something  with  it. 
But  all  the  stores  were  closed.  So  the  peasant  did  not  want  to  sell  his 
produce,  and  the  Bolsheviks,  faced  with  the  possibility  of  starvation 
in  the  army  and  cities,  sent  troops  into  the  villages  to  requisition  food. 
This  stifled  the  peasant's  natural  desire  to  plant.  Coupled  with  a 
drought,  the  result  was  a  famine  in  the  Volga  region  and  the  Ukraine 
where  millions  died.  The  peasant  planted  less,  hid  his  harvest,  and 
sold  it  only  to  private  individuals  who  slipped  out  of  cities  with 
sacks  full  of  old  clothing,  shoes,  tobacco,  or  interior  decorations. 
Bigger  objects  too  found  their  way  into  the  countryside  in  exchange 
for  food,  and  traveling  through  Russian  farm  regions  in  later  years, 
I  saw  pianos,  gramophones,  books,  paintings  and  rugs,  which  lowly 
muzhiks  had  received  from  hungry  law-breaking  city  folk  during 
that  difficult  period.  But  this  bootleg  business  was  a  thin  unsatis- 
factory trickle.  It  could  not  meet  the  needs  of  millions  of  urbanites 
nor  offer  a  regular  market  to  a  hundred  million  peasants.  In  1920 
and  1921,  peasants  in  many  districts  openly  displayed  their  displeas- 
ure at  the  restrictions  on  the  sale  of  their  crops.  Revolts  broke  out 
in  several  provinces  and  among  Kronstadt  sailors  who  were  peasants' 


50  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

sons  for  the  most  part.  Lenin  quickly  grasped  the  significance  of 
this.  In  March,  1921,  he  readmitted  capitalism  into  Soviet  Russia;  he 
introduced  the  New  Economic  Policy— NEP. 

Lenin  called  the  NEP  a  retreat.  It  superseded  a  system  which 
was  in  part  "military  communism"— a  war  necessity— and  in  part 
militant  communism:  the  state  ran  the  munitions  plants,  railroads, 
banks,  mines.  In  lesser  degree,  the  same  system  had  been  tried  in 
the  United  States  during  the  first  World  War— with  this  difference: 
in  capitalist  countries  the  capitalists  were  temporarily  denied  com- 
plete supervision  over  their  properties.  In  Soviet  Russia  they  were 
permanently  dispossessed  and  exiled  or  imprisoned  or  shot,  thus 
leaving  a  clear  field  for  socialism.  Under  "military  communism," 
moreover,  the  peasants  tilled  nationalized  soil,  which  they  held  in 
usufruct  And  private  business  was  proscribed.  The  NEP  altered 
one  situation;  private  business  was  legalized. 

I  saw  private  trade  take  its  first  faltering  steps  in  Communist  Russia. 
Here  a  red-faced  woman  in  white  headkerchief  stood  on  the  pave- 
ment holding  five  pairs  of  cotton  gloves  in  one  hand  and  half 
a  dozen  neck  scarfs  in  another.  She  was  launching  a  business  career, 
A  wrinkled  veteran  had  managed  to  scrape  together  ten  packets  of 
cigarettes  and  a  few  boxes  of  matches.  A  board  suspended  by  strings 
from  his  shoulders  was  his  showcase— and  there  he  stood,  a  capitalist. 
Perambulating  bookstores,  pushcarts  filled  with  luscious  fruit  from 
southern  regions,  and  cobblers  repairing  shoes  and  nailing  on  rubber 
heels  in  the  autumn  cold  completed  the  picture  of  open-air  capital- 
ism. 

Every  day  also  saw  the  reopening  of  shops  shuttered  and  barred 
since  1918;  many  were  being  renovated.  Moscow's  carpenters,  plas- 
terers, and  glaziers  could  scarcely  cope  with  the  job  of  lifting  the 
big  city's  face-  Very  often  a  store  would  emerge  only  gradually 
from  its  four  years  of  hibernation*  First  one  window  was  plated 
and  behind  it  the  owner  might  display  powders  and  perfumes  im- 
ported from  Paris  in  1914,  The  next  week  his  cap  and  hat  section 
exposed  itself  to  public  view.  Diamonds,  fur  coats,  silks,  valuable 
carpets,  marble  statuary,  and  ordinary  wearing  apparel  were  then 
put  on  sale-  These  were  old  stocks.  The  merchants  had  carefully 
guarded  them  during  all  the  long  years  of  revolution,  civil  war,  and 
undernourishment.  In  one  window  I  saw  an  unused  typewriter 
marked  "Ithaca,  1913,"  a  microscope,  opera  glasses,  and  medical  in- 
struments. 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  51 

To  children  pressing  their  stub  noses  against  plate-glass  windows 
all  this  was  strange  indeed.  They  had  never  known  what  trade 
meant.  There  were  more  curious  observers  outside  the  stores  than 
buyers  inside,  and  cash  registers  played  slow,  intermittent  music. 
Most  Muscovites  could  afford  little  more  than  food  and  bare  necessi- 
ties—if that.  The  new  capitalists  or  Nepmen,  however,  bought  from 
one  another,  and  their  tribe  increased.  Soon  Moscow  scenes  reflected 
the  change.  Through  streets  filled  with  ragged  thousands,  ladies 
decked  in  satins  and  sables  rode  safely  in  horse-drawn  droshkies. 
Under  the  old  system  they  would  not  have  dared.  Men  began  com- 
ing to  the  theater  in  evening  dress,  and  from  the  performance  they 
drove  in  smart,  racing  droshkies  to  cabarets  where  waiters  in  black 
served  endless,  costly  meals  and  champagne  while  fat  gypsies  sang 
and  danced.  The  most  sumptuous  cabarets  were  The  Empire,  Her- 
mitage, Weep  Not,  and  Cheer  Up.  The  obeisances  and  the  old-fash- 
ioned subservience  of  the  waiters  revolted  me.  When  my  income 
permitted,  I  also  went  to  the  gambling  casinos.  Nepmen  crowded 
around  the  roulette  and  baccarat  tables  from  which  the  state  raked 
in  a  percentage  of  each  pot.  But  occasionally  one  could  also  see 
a  sallow,  nervous  player,  obviously  a  government  employee,  who 
either  was  trying  to  win  some  money  for  himself  by  using  official 
funds,  or  had  already  lost  part  of  these  state  rubles  and  wanted  to 
recoup.  Agents  of  the  secret  police,  sometimes  in  the  guise  of  Nep- 
men, watched  eagerly  for  such  easy  prey. 

Three-fourths  of  the  Nepmen  engaged  in  retail  trade;  the  others 
manufactured  food,  clothing,  sanitary  articles,  hardware,  and  kitchen 
utensils.  The  Nepman  looked  for  quick  turnover  and  profits.  He 
did  not  wish  to  invest  in  basic  industries.  He  wanted  to  "travel  light," 
so  as  to  be  able  to  jump  off  the  train  in  case  the  government  changed 
its  mind  again  and  prohibited  private  enterprise. 

Big  factories  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  state.  These  sold  their 
output  to  two  kinds  of  wholesalers:  Nepmen  and  state  trusts.  Both 
sold  to  Nepmen  retailers.  But  the  state  trusts  themselves  also  opened 
retail  stores*  All  competed  with  one  another,  and  the  cheating  and 
confusion  were  great* 

The  government  owned  all  property.  Small  industrial  undertak- 
ings such  as  printing  presses,  bakeries,  restaurants  were  leased  to 
private  capitalists.  The  workingmen  complained  that  these  Nepmen 
violated  the  labor  code,  paid  low  wages,  and  even  defied  the  trade 
unions.  A  Communist  writing  to  the  Moscow  daily  Pravda  protested 


52  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

against  such  injustices,  but  his  story  indicated  the  extent  of  the  Bol- 
shevik dilemma.  When  the  authorities  insisted  that  the  Neprnan  pay 
better  salaries  he  simply  closed  the  factory.  The  workers  asked  for  six 
weeks'  pay  as  compensation.  The  Nepman  pleaded  no  funds.  They 
took  him  to  court.  The  court  found  that  he  was  really  penniless. 
"What  can  be  done  with  such  adventurers?"  the  Pravda  correspond- 
ent asks.  Put  them  in  prison?  "That's  a  good  thing,  but  what  will  the 
proletariat  get  out  of  it?  ...  In  this  case  the  government  should 
help  the  dismissed  laborers." 

Minors  employed  in  petty  handicraft  shops  worked  ten  to  twelve 
hours  a  day  at  miserable  pay.  Conditions  "are  simply  intolerable," 
said  an  official  investigator.  Piatakov,  a  leading  Soviet  industrialist, 
declared  publicly  that  "the  Nep  vermin"  created  a  chaotic  market 
and  irrational  economics,  and  drove  many  Communists  into  "black 
melancholy," 

The  Nepmen  demoralized  state  officials  by  setting  a  tempting 
example  of  high  living  or  by  direct  bribes  or  by  their  mere  presence. 
The  Nepmen  had  their  spies  in  state  trusts.  Apartment  houses  owned 
by  the  Moscow  Soviet  (the  municipality)  often  preferred  Nepmen 
to  workingmen.  The  houses  were  managed  by  tenant  committees 
who  had  to  pay  for  maintenance  and  repairs*  When  their  funds  were 
inadequate  they  sold  the  right  to  rooms  or  suites  to  merchants  who 
gladly  agreed  to  higher  rents  as  well.  "Help!"  cried  the  headline  of 
a  Pravda  article,  "the  Nepmen  are  driving  workers  out  of  the  best 
houses*"  Women  angered  over  apartment  disputes  tore  out  one  an- 
other's hair  or  threw  hot  pots  at  one  another  in  communal  kitchens. 
Russians  committed  murder  for  rooms.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  it  a!!, 
a  Nepman  would  walk  in  with  his  billions  and  lease  three  rooms,  for 
any  corner  of  which  poorer  citizens  would  have  given  their  eye- 
teeth. 

The  government  had  been  advancing  the  running  expenses  of  fac- 
tories. But  "the  government  can  no  longer  allocate  funds  to  subsidise 
industry,"  wrote  Pravda  in  September,  1922,  the  month  1  arrived 
in  Moscow.  It  would  concentrate  on  improving  transportation  and 
on  assisting  the  peasantry  with  loans.  Immediately  plants  began  clos- 
ing down*  Unemployment  rose. 

Peter  Bogdanov,  chairman  of  the  Supreme  Economic  Council,  told 
a  Soviet  congress  in  December,  1922,  that  Soviet  Russia  was  pro- 
ducing only  four  percent  as  much  iron  as  Czarist  Russia,  The  next 
day  Gregory  Sokolnikov,  Commissar  of  Finance,  informed  the  sad- 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  53 

dened  delegates  that  the  government's  revenue  amounted  to  only 
one-hundredth  of  its  expenditures.  The  other  ninety-nine  percent 
poured  from  the  overworked  printing  presses  which  turned  out  ru- 
bles by  the  trillions.  The  Bolsheviks  were  living  on,  and  quickly 
exhausting,  the  capital  they  had  inherited  from  -Czarism. 

It  was  a  vicious  circle.  Lenin's  bold  experiment  of  putting  social- 
ism and  capitalism  in  one  crippled  cage  did  not  yield  a  mongrel, 
for  they  refused  to  mix.  It  retarded  the  growth  of  each,  for  they 
stole  food  from  one  another. 

Meanwhile,  the  peasants,  to  quiet  whose  grumblings  the  NEP 
had  been-  introduced,  continued  to  grumble.  I  visited  villages.  The 
peasants  said,  "Before  the  war,  we  sold  one  pood  [36  pounds]  of 
grain  and  could  buy  8  arshin  [yards]  of  cotton  goods  with  the  pro- 
ceeds. Now  we  receive  only  two  arshin  for  a  pood."  The  Bolshevik 
press  published  the  same  figures  I  heard  from  the  illiterate  plowman, 
In  one  village  I  asked  the  wife  of  a  former  justice  of  the  peace  what 
difference  the  Revolution  had  made.  She  replied,  "People  talk  more." 

The  NEP  encouraged  anti-Bolsheviks  to  dream  of  the  complete 
restoration  of  capitalism.  Some  workingmen  became  apathetic.  Com- 
munists resigned  from  the  Communist  party.  Communists  committed 
suicide  in  despair.  Peasants  ambushed  Soviet  village  journalists  and 
killed  them.  Meanwhile,  Lenin  lay  in  bed  after  his  first  stroke.  His 
illness  lasted  six  months^.  Millions  of  hearts  trembled  lest  he  never 
return  to  work  and  leadership.  He  recovered  in  October,  1922. 

I  first  saw  Lenin  that  same  month  at  a  session  of  Central  Execu- 
tive Committee,  a  kind  of  senate  consisting  of  delegates  from  munici- 
pal and  village  Soviets.  The  meeting  took  place  in  the  throne  room 
of  the  Czar's  great  marble  palace  situated  inside  the  red-brick  walls 
of  the  Kremlin  fortress.  The  walls  of  the  Kremlin  also  encircle  sev- 
eral Greek  Catholic  churches,  an  arms  museum,  barracks  for  the 
guards,  and  houses  once  inhabited  by  the  royal  servants  and  priests, 
which  are  now  the  homes  of  top-rank  Bolshevik  leaders. 

The  Czar's  palace  itself  had  remained  unaltered.  The  thick 
doors  plated  with  green  malachite  were  intact.  In  the  throne  room 
the  ten  massive  chandeliers  suspended  from  the  ceiling  with  their 
thousands  of  tiny  pointed  electric  bulbs,  the  huge  rectangular  mar- 
ble columns  decorated  with  heavy  gilt  wood  designs,  the  imperial 
crowns,  crosses,  and  double  eagles  were  just  as  the  Czar  knew  them. 
Only  the  throne  was  gone  and  in  its  place  was  a  long  table  covered 
with  a  red  cloth  at  which  the  presidents  of  the  assembly  sat.  While 


54  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Nicholas  Krylenko,  Federal  Attorney  General,  was  delivering  an 
address  from  the  podium,  Lenin  walked  into  the  hall  unescorted  and 
sat  down  unnoticed  on  one  of  the  yellow  folding  chairs  near  me. 
I  had  a  few  minutes  to  observe  him.  His  head  was  round,  almost 
bald,  and  luminous,  with  a  high  domed  forehead,  high  cheek  bones, 
a  reddish  mustache,  little  red  beard,  and  slanting,  Mongolian,  twin- 
kling eyes.  His  lips  played  with  a  smile.  Soon  the  delegates  noticed 
him  and  whispered,  and  then  the  whisper  "Lenin"  became  a  loud 
cry  drowned  in  applause,  and  Lenin,  almost  running,  moved  up  to 
the  platform.  Immediately,  Krylenko  interrupted  his  long  report, 
and  the  chairman,  Mikhail  Kalinin,  President  of  the  Soviet  Repub- 
lic, said  simply,  "Comrade  Lenin  has  the  floor."  The  applause  lasted 
exactly  forty-five  seconds;  Lenin  raised  his  hand,  the  clapping 
stopped  and  the  delegates  resumed  their  seats.  He  held  a  watch  in 
his  palm  and  said  that  the  physicians  had  given  him  permission  to 
speak  fifteen  minutes.  He  spoke  fifteen  minutes,  all  the  while  squint- 
ing nearsightedly  at  his  watch.  His  tone  was  conversational,  rapid 
and  informal.  He  gesticulated  freely  but  there  was  no  striving  for 
effect.  The  audience  laughed  or  grew  emotional  or  settled  into  seri- 
ousness just  as  he  apparently  wished  it.  I  understood  only  a  few 
words. 

When  Lenin  finished,  the  meeting  adjourned  and  more  than  a 
hundred  delegates  crowded  into  an  anteroom  adjoining  the  cx-Gsar» 
ina's  bedroom  for  a  photograph.  The  photographer  had  as  much 
trouble  getting  them  seated  and  quiet  as  if  they  were  a  high-school 
class  and  not  the  Bolshevik  rulers  of  Russia.  In  the  center  row  sat 
Leo  Kamenev,  Lenin,  Zinoviev,  General  S.  Kamenev,  Kalinin,  my- 
self, Savel  Zimand,  an  American  free-lance  writer,  F,  A.  Mackenzie 
of  the  Chicago  Daily  News  and  George  Seldes  of  the  Chicago  Tri~ 
bune.  We  foreigners  had  simply  pushed  a  bit  and  got  where  we 
wanted  to  be.  All  around,  the  other  men— there  is  not  a  single  woman 
in  the  picture— stood,  sat,  and  sprawled  on  the  floor.  Among  them 
were  Leo  Karakhan,  assistant  Commissar  of  Foreign  Affairs,  Tom- 
sky,  leader  of  the  trade  union  movement,  Bogdanov  of  the  Supreme 
Economic  Council,  Yenukidze,  a  Georgian  Bolshevik  and  Secretary 
of  the  Central  Executive  Committee,  and  Demyan  Bcdni,  the  poet 
laureate.  Many  of  the  delegates  were  still  in  old  military  uniforms 
and  leather  army  jackets.  A  considerable  number  wore  white  col- 
lars, but  more  had  on  Russian  blouses. 

Lenin  spoke  again  in  the  same  place  several  weeks  later— Novem- 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  55 

her  13,  1922— and  this  time  I  understood,  for  his  speech  was  in  Ger- 
man. It  was  an  address  to  the  congress  of  the  Third  International— 
the  Comintern.  Representatives  of  Communist  parties  throughout 
the  world  had  arrived  in  Moscow  for  the  event.  Their  faces  were 
all  shades  of  white,  yellow,  and  brown.  Born  Christians,  Jews,  Mos- 
lems, Buddhists,  Brahmans,  pagans,  this  was  Mecca  for  all  of  them. 
And  Mohammed  delivered  them  a  lecture.  On  this  occasion  the 
physicians  allowed  him  to  speak  an  hour. 

While  Lenin  talked,  impish  Karl  Radek  sat  at  his  feet,  and  when- 
ever Lenin  lacked  a  word  in  German  he  lowered  his  head  and  gave 
the  Russian  expression  to  Radek,  and  Radek  turned  his  ugly  face 
upward  and  offered  the  German  equivalent.  Several  times  Lenin 
did  not  like  Radek's  translation  and  threw  the  Russian  word  into 
the  audience  and  waited  till  the  delegates  shouted  a  suitable  German 
synonym.  The  address  was  full  of  humor.  Lenin  quoted  something 
he  had  written  in  1918  and  added,  "Of  course  that  was  said  when 
we  were  more  stupid  than  now."  The  Bolsheviks  would  continue 
to  make  "a  colossal  number  of  mistakes."  "Nobody  can  see  that 
better  than  I,"  implying  that  many  were  his  own.  Why?  Because 
Russia  was  backward  and  had  been  denied  help  from  the  outside. 
The  Bolsheviks,  moreover,  had  been  forced  to  take  over  old  gov- 
ernment officials  who  detested  the  new  regime.  In  February,  1921, 
"disaster  threatened";  the  "great  mass  of  the  peasants  were  against 
us"  and  many  workingmen  as  well.  The  Soviets  had  gone  too  far 
towards  socialism  without  sufficient  preparation.  Therefore  the  NEP. 
"We  must  always  be  ready  to  retreat."  The  last  eighteen  months 
showed  some  progress.  To  be  sure,  more  than  "a  quadrillion  rubles" 
were  in  circulation.  This  figure,  though  astronomical,  was  unim- 
portant. "You  can  always  cross  out  the  zeros."  It  was  more  impor- 
tant to  stabilize  the  ruble  and  they  had  stabilized  it  for  three  whole 
months.  They  had  to  reconstruct  heavy  industry,  for  "without  it 
we  die  as  an  independent  country."  It  would  take  several  years.  To 
finance  reconstruction  of  plants  and  railroads  "we  are  economizing 
on  everything,  even  on  schools." 

Enemies  would  rejoice  in  his  admission  of  errors,  Lenin  predicted. 
But  when  the  Soviets  miscalculated  it  was  in  saying  two  times  two 
are  five;  when  the  capitalists  went  wrong  they  said  "two  times  two 
are  a  tallow  candle."  The  capitalists  supported  Admiral  Kolchak, 
the  anti-Bolshevik  White  whom  the  Red  Army  had  completely 


56  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

smashed.  They  dictated  the  Versailles  peace.  Those  were  political 
blunders  of  world  dimensions. 

Leon  Trotzky,  Commissar  of  War,  followed  Lenin.  He  spoke  two 
and  a  half  hours  in  exquisite  German.  Immediately  thereafter  he 
delivered  the  same  address  again  in  fluent,  rich  French.  And  then 
he  gave  it  a  third  time  in  Russian.  It  was  a  seven-and-a-half -hour  per- 
formance with  only  two  brief  intermissions. 

Trotzky  was  fiery,  flamboyant,  penetrating.  The  congress  cheered 
him  wildly.  This  was  the  last  Comintern  congress  which  admitted 
non-Communist  correspondents.  In  the  press  box  sat  an  American 
artist  drawing  a  sketch  of  Trotzky.  At  first  he  made  Trotzky  look 
like  a  Mephistopheles.  Then  he  tore  it  up.  There  was  more  of  the 
tenor  in  Trotzky— the  peacock,  performer,  charmer. 

The  historic  struggle  between  Stalin  and  Trotzky  had  not  yet 
commenced,  and  Trotzky  was  recognized  as  the  oigamzer  of  the 
Red  Army.  But  though  still  the  head  of  the  army,  Trotzky  had 
too  much  dynamic  energy  to  make  it  a  full-time  job  in  peace.  He 
had  taken  over  the  ruined  railroads  of  the  country  and  was  trying 
to  bring  order  out  of  their  chaos.  He  wrote  long,  half-page  reviews 
in  the  daily  press  on  European  and  Russian  books  (he  was  one  of 
Russia's  outstanding  literary  critics),  delivered  numerous  speeches, 
and,  in  addition,  preached  puritan  morals.  Urging  "a  new  life/* 
Trotzky  attacked  swearing  and  those  three-ply  Russian  "mother** 
oaths  which,  incidentally,  Lenin  used  on  rare  occasions  and  Stalin 
often,  but  Trotzky  never.  "Cursing,"  Trotzky  thundered,  "is  a 
heritage  of  slavery.'* 

A  strong  puritanical  streak  runs  through  Communism.  It  denies  to 
the  individual  for  the  sake  of  the  whole  and  the  future.  Loose  living 
is  discouraged  not  as  sin  but  because  it  softens  the  soldier  fighting 
the  social  war.  Besides,  the  NEP  was  corroding  morals  as  well  as 
socialist  economy,  and  puritan  self-restraint  seemed  a  necessary  cor- 
rective, I  attended  a  dance  recital  directed  by  Goleizovsky,  former 
ballet  impresario.  It  was  crude  pornography.  The  police  would 
have  been  summoned  if  anybody  had  done  horizontally  what  the 
performers  executed  under  the  guise  of  dance*  A  Soviet  critic  de- 
clared this  "thickly  erotic  style"  incongruous  "in  our  harsh  revo- 
lutionary epoch."  But  these  things  were  an  attempt  to  escape  from 
harshness.  Trotzky  and  Bukharin  prescribed  the  antidote  of  puri- 
tanical discipline.  Bukharin,  stormy  petrel,  thirty-fivc-ycar-old  edi- 
tor of  Prwda,  beloved  by  the  youth  and  by  Lenin-though  Lenin 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  57 

publicly  castigated  him  for  false  theorizing—issued  a  warning  to  the 
younger  generation  to  forget  the  despair  born  of  the  NEP  and 
to  crusade  against  drinking,  smoking,  and  "certain  sexual  laxnesses." 
"Nihilism,"  Bukharin  insisted,  "has  no  place  among  us."  He  sug- 
gested the  creation  of  a  "Communist  Pinkerton."  Yes,  detective  sto- 
ries; Karl  Marx  used  to  read  them  and  liked  them.  They  had  need 
too  of  revolutionary  romanticism  and  civil-war  tales,  Bukharin  con- 
tinued, for  their  political  discussions  were  dry  and  left  the  soul  cold. 

Entertainment  frequently  conforms  to  the  pattern  of  work.  Peo- 
ple bombarded  with  numerous  strong  sensations  during  the  day  crave 
more  during  their  evening  leisure.  Nepmen  who  gambled  for  for- 
tunes in  their  markets  gambled  away  fortunes  in  the  casino,  and 
private  capitalists  perilously  poised  on  the  rim  of  the  Soviet  volcano 
were  in  no  mood  for  contemplative  music  or  fine  literature  or  del- 
icate political  satire.  Peaceful  coexistence  with  this  resurrected  inter- 
nal capitalist  enemy  .subjected  Bolshevik  morale  to  stress. 

In  1922  and  1923,  nevertheless,  the  fires  of  Bolshevik  idealism  from 
which  the  1917  revolution  rose  were  still  burning  high.  The  Krem- 
lin's task  was  to  keep  them  so.  The  call  to  a  better  world  came  from 
leaders  who  shrank  from  personal  adulation.  The  fifth  birthday  of  the 
Soviet  government  was  certainly  cause  for  congratulation;  the  Bol- 
sheviks had  expected  to  be  crushed  long  before  that.  Yet  the  press  re- 
frained from  personal  tributes.  Victory  was  the  achievement  of  all. 
I  have  read  carefully  the  anniversary  issue  of  the  Pravda  of  Novem- 
ber 7,  1922.  On  the  first  page  is  a  facsimile  quotation  from  Lenin 
but  no  other  mention  of  Lenin  or  of  any  other  Bolshevik.  Half 
of  the  second  page  is  devoted  to  a  survey  of  the  civil  war  by 
General  S.  Kamenev.  Not  a  single  personal  name  occurs  in  it.  A 
calendar  of  five  years  of  the  regime  contains  two  casual  references 
to  Lenin,  one  to  Trotzky,  and  one  to  Krylenko.  Then  there  is 
an  article  by  S,  Zorin  in  memory  of  the  Mensheviks  who  died  in 
making  the  Revolution.  The  Mensheviks  were  now  sworn  enemies 
of  the  Bolsheviks.  They  opposed  dictatorship  and  Soviet  principles. 
But  the  official  Pravda  gave  them  the  credit  they  deserved.  For 
"they  too"  says  Zorin,  "participated  in  the  memorable  days  of  the 
Revolution."  Such  an  honest  tribute  became  inconceivable  in  later 
years. 

The  rest  of  the  Pravda  issue  carries  an  article  by  Zinoviev  which 
quotes  Lenin's  statement  that  "every  housewife  must  learn  to  run 
the  government,"  but  has  no  other  reference  to  Lenin  or  anybody 


58  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

else;  an  article  by  Bukharin  with  two  mentions  of  Lenin  but  no 
praise  of  him,  and  no  mention  of  any  other  individual;  a  poem  by 
Demyan  Bedni,  also  purely  impersonal;  and  a  feuilleton  by  Sos- 
novsky,  in  which  he  reminisces  intimately  about  the  early  period 
of  the  Revolution.  In  this  article  Lenin  is  mentioned  seven  times, 
Trotzky  two  times,  Antonov-Avseyenko  twice,  Rakovsky  twice, 
and  Zinoviev,  Svcrdlow,  Voroshilov,  Manuilsky  (a  Comintern  offi- 
cial), Bukharin,  Joffe,  and  Chicherin  once  each.  Further  contribu- 
tions to  the  paper  likewise  abstain  from  personalities.  Eulogies  are 
conspicuous  by  their  total  absence.  Stalin's  name  does  not  appear  at 
all  in  this  holiday  publication.  The  Pravda  issue  of  February  23, 
1923,  commemorating  the  fifth  anniversary  of  the  formation  of  the 
Red  Army,  was  equally  devoid  of  personal  references,  of  tributes 
to  Lenin  or  Trotzky,  and  of  any  mention  of  Stalin* 

For  comparison  I  have  selected  at  random  a  latter-day  Pravda 
anniversary  issue,  that  of  November  7,  1937.  Staling  name  occurs 
eighty-eight  times,  Lenin's  fifty-four  times.  The  adjective  Stalinist 
is  used  fifteen  times.  Lenin's  name  is  almost  always  coupled  with 
Stalin's.  President  Kalinin  writes,  "The  Bolshevik  party,  educated  by 
Lenin  and  Stalin  .  .  .,"  "the  banner  of  the  party  was  held  by  the 
strong  hands  of  Lenin  and  Stalin.  .  *  ."  Another  hymn  to  Stalin 
reveals  that,  in  1917,  "the  working  class  of  Leningrad,  led  by  Lenin 
and  Stalin,  conquered  for  the  Soviets."  A  contributor  waxes  ecstatic, 
"Today  I  shall  see  Stalin.  I  know  his  face  *  ,  .  that  exalted  figure 
of  a  human  being."  Stalin  is  "the  great  Stalin.**  War  Commissar 
Voroshilov  is  mentioned  twice,  Kalinin  twice,  General  Budenny 
once,  Dimkrov,  head  of  the  Comintern,  once.  No  other  leaders  arc 
mentioned.  But  Kalinin  twice  assails  Kamenev,  Zinoviev,  and  Rykov 
as  "traitors."  Trotzky  and  Bukharin  invariably  are  linked  together 
in  spluttering  epithets:  "The  Trotzky-Bukharin  bandits,  spies, 
wreckers,  plotters,  and  murderers";  "The  Trotzky-Bukharin  agents 
of  Japanese-German  fascism." 

There  was  in  Lenin's  Russia  an  unwritten  but  strict  Bolshevik 
code  against  exaltation  of  the  individual,  no  matter  how  great  his 
services.  Biographical  facts  on  Soviet  personalities  were  rarely  pub- 
lished, and  it  was  bad  taste  to  refer  in  public  to  the  wife  or  children 
or  family  or  habits  or  travels  of  any  outstanding  Bolshevik*  Thar 
was  his  private  affair.  His  wife's  rating  in  society  depended  on  her 
merit  as  a  citizen  and  worker;  the  marriage  certificate  itself  brought 
no  honor  or  social  position,  much  less  publicity.  For  foreign  jour- 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  59 

nalists  whose  editors  wanted  "human  interest  stuff,"  the  Bolshevik 
press  was  a  desert  without  oases. 

My  life  as  a  correspondent  was  divided  between  Moscow  and  the 
provinces.  Once  Henry  G.  Alsberg,  brilliant  occasional  contributor 
to  the  New  York  Nation  and  official  of  the  American  Jewish  Joint 
Distribution  Committee,  went  for  an  inspection  tour  of  the  Ukraine. 
Because  the  ordinary  passenger  cars  were  infested  with  typhus- 
bearing  lice,  he  used  a  private  railway  car  which  had  belonged  to  one 
of  the  Czar's  brothers,  a  grand  duke.  George  Seldes  of  the  Chicago 
Tribune,  Sam  Spewack  of  the  late  New  York  World,  who  has  be- 
come a  successful  playwright,  and  I  gladly  accepted  Alsberg's  offer 
to  go  along.  Both  Seldes  and  Spewack  were  very  anti-Soviet.  Each 
of  us  had  a  comfortable  compartment  to  sleep  in,  and  we  ate  in  3 
large  salon.  We  had  corn  flakes,  canned  milk,  G.  Washington  coffee, 
and  other  luxuries  of  home  which  had  been  bought  in  the  special 
Moscow  canteen  of  Herbert  Hoover's  American  Relief  Administra- 
tion—or Ara,  as  the  Russians  called  it. 

Our  special  car  stopped  at  Kharkov,  the  capital  of  the  Ukraine, 
at  Kiev,  Vinnitsa,  and  Kamenetz-Podolsk.  In  Kharkov,  I  visited 
a  crowded  hospital  where  a  big  hole  in  the  roof  made  the  top  floor 
uninhabitable  and  allowed  cold  and  rain  to  fill  the  whole  building. 
A  woman  in  one  ward  seemed  too  plump  to  be  very  ill  but  the  doc- 
tor explained  that  she  was  swollen  from  hunger.  In  near-by  Crimea, 
two  hundred  thousand  had  died  of  starvation.  Authorities  assured 
me  that  the  cholera  epidemic  "had  been  mastered"  and  typhus  "re- 
duced to  normal  dimensions." 

The  Ukraine  with  its  thirty-odd  million  inhabitants  was  a  world 
of  tragedy.  A  million  homeless  waifs  orphaned  by  war  and  famine 
roamed  the  steppes,  starved,  rode  the  rails,  spread  disease,  and  com- 
mitted crimes.  Every  section  of  the  country  had  tasted  war.  Some 
towns  like  Berdicheff  changed  hands  eighteen  times.  Few  places 
saw  fewer  than  six  or  seven  changes.  Each  change  meant  an  attack 
by  the  assailants,  shelling  and  shooting.  Then  the  retiring  forces 
would  take  away  as  much  as  they  could  carry  and  the  incoming 
victors  would  loot  the  rest.  The  victors  would  set  up  their  own 
government  and  introduce  its  money.  The  peasants  and  townspeople 
were  compelled  to  accept  this  money  in  return  for  goods.  A  month 
later  that  government  would  be  driven  out  of  the  town,  and  the 
money  would  become  worthless.  The  succeeding  government  then 


60  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

brought  Its  money,  and  again  the  population  surrendered  crops  and 
materials  for  another  paper  currency  which  again  became  so  much 
colored  printing  matter  when  a  third  conqueror  came  along.  In 
villages,  peasant  women  carefully  untied  large  bright  handkerchiefs 
and  asked  me  hopefully  whether  their  accumulation  of  bills,  rep- 
resenting years  of  labor  in  fields  and  barn,  would  ever  have  any 
value.  They  showed  me  Czarist  rubles,  Kerensky  rubles,  Petlura  bills, 
Denikin  bills,  Polish  money,  Makhno  money,  Grigoriev  money. 
Every  bandit  chief,  every  rebellious  general,  impoverished  the  in- 
habitants of  his  area  with  this  financial  literature. 

With  rare  exceptions,  all  anti-Bolsheviks  pogromed  the  Jews. 
About  two  million  Jews  lived  in  the  Ukraine.  Thousands  were  mur- 
dered, and  hundreds  of  thousands  robbed  of  all  their  goods  and 
driven  away  from  their  homes.  The  eyes  of  those  who  remained 
revealed  it  all  In  Fastov,  a  small  town  near  Kiev,  a  boy  of  twelve 
who  led  me  around  pointed  to  a  beautiful  young  Jewish  woman 
who  passed  us  and  said,  "She  was  raped  by  eighteen  Cossacks."  Her 
eyes  showed  it,  too. 

On  a  subsequent  trip  to  Minsk,  Homel,  Vitebsk,  and  other  cen- 
ters in  White  Russia,  near  Poland,  I  saw  similar  pictures  of  crushed 
souls,  torn  families,  ruined  railroads  and  bridges,  idle  factories,  deso- 
late farms,  and  ignorant  bewildered  officials.  What  a  job  the  Soviet 
regime  had  undertaken! 

Most  foreign  correspondents  in  Moscow  met  this  difficult  Russian 
situation  with  little  sympathy.  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  one 
Russian  family  of  government  officials  and  one  Jewish  NEP  family. 
Occasionally,  a  visitor  like  Max  Eastman  dropped  down  from  the 
Communist  planet.  A  translator  read  me  the  newspapers  in  the  fore- 
noon. For  the  rest,  I  spent  my  time  with  my  professional  colleagues. 
We  correspondents  were  one  big,  almost  permanent  poker  party. 
Seldes  would  say,  "Here,  hold  my  hand,  I  have  to  get  off  a  story,0 
and  an  hour  later,  his  dispatch  censored  and  filed  for  the  enlighten- 
ment of  waiting  Chicagoans,  he  returned  to  resume  the  real  business 
of  life*  During  this  first  stay  in  Soviet  Russia  I  learned  much  less  than 
I  should  have.  In  general,  the  unfriendly  anti-Soviet  attitude  of  almost 
all  the  correspondents,  which  seemed  based  less  on  knowledge  than 
on  prejudice,  had  the  paradoxical  effect  of  creating  a  generally 
friendly  attitude  in  ine. 

One  fine  day,  Mr.  Ketchum,  a  roving  correspondent  of  the  Lon~ 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  61 

don  Daily  Express,  arrived  in  Moscow.  He  asked  his  colleagues  for 
the  "lowdown."  I  tried,  with  the  woefully  inadequate  data  at  my 
disposal,  to  give  him  a  picture  of  conditions.  He  listened  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  said  with  a  smile,  "Before  I  left  London,  my  chief, 
Lord  Beaverbrook,  called  me  into  his  office  and  said,  'Now  Ketchum, 
you  are  off  to  Russia.  We  don't  care  what  Lenin  is  thinking  or  what 
Trotzky  is  doing.  What  we  want  to  know  is  whether  the  girls 'in 
Moscow  wear  drawers/  "  Ketchum  had  a  generous  expense  account. 

I  myself  had  no  expense  account  and  no  salary.  I  lived  from  check 
to  check.  I  had  an  assignment,  for  irregular  pay,  from  the  Jewish 
Telegraphic  Agency,  but  I  soon  discovered  that  die  fate  of  Russian 
Jewry  was  a  by-product  of  larger  Soviet  developments.  I  devoted 
myself  to  a  study  of  the  broad  scene.  I  wrote  on  it  at  odd  intervals 
for  the  New  York  Evening  Post.  I  wrote  to  the  Post  from  Berlin, 
Warsaw,  Vilna,  Stockholm,  Riga,  Tallinn,  and  Moscow.  After  mail- 
ing each  article  I  waited  until  the  newspaper  with  the  printed  con- 
tribution reached  me  in  Europe.  Then  I  sent  another  article.  For 
several  years  I  could  not  get  myself  to  write  a  correspondence  before 
I  was  sure  that  the  preceding  correspondence  had  been  accepted. 
I  needed  the  encouragement  of  publication.  This  meant  that  I  wrote 
less  and  earned  less  and  had  more  time  for  investigation.  I  think 
my  strongest  instinct  is  curiosity.  When  aroused,  I  suffer  if  I  do 
not  know  what  I  want  to  know,  and  Moscow  aroused  me  power- 
fully. Under  the  bombardment  of  its  kaleidoscopically  changing 
events  there  could  be  no  intellectual  laziness  or  complacency.  I  read 
a  lot,  traveled,  and  talked  with  those  foreign  journalists  who  felt 
Moscow's  excitement.  They  were,  particularly,  Paul  Scheffer,  of 
the  Berliner  Tageblatt,  a  cultured  German,  Walter  Duranty  of  the 
New  York  Times,  and  William  Henry  Chamberlin. 

William  Henry  Chamberlin  of  Philadelphia,  educated  at  Quaker 
Haverford,  wrote  for  the  Christian  Science  Monitor,  one  of  Amer- 
ica's best  dailies.  His  hobby  was  baiting  America,  and  nothing 
amused  him  more  than  quoting  at  length  from  H.  L.  Mencken's 
"Americana"  which  he  did  to  the  accompaniment  of  laughter  and 
with  a  rhythmic  wiggle  of  one  finger.  Though  classmates  probably 
never  thought  of  him  as  rugged  and  though  he  is  the  scholastic  type, 
he  played  poker  eagerly  with  a  glacial  Japanese  expression,  and 
usually  won.  In  Moscow,  where  food  was  limited,  he  faced  special 
difficulties;  he  had  to  have  two  meals  of  meat  per  day,  and  he  ate 
his  weight  in  chocolate  each  year.  If  he  did  not  have  chocolate  his 


62  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

energy  lagged.  Fortunately,  the  Soviet  government  gave  him  special 
permission  to  import  it  in  adequate  quantities.  Sonya,  his  wife  from 
Vinnitsa  who  had  taught  French  in  a  New  York  high  school,  kept 
the  chocolate  and  rationed  him  in  accordance  with  his  literary  out- 
put, which  was  prodigious  anyway.  Chamberlin  had  worked  with 
Heywood  Broun  on  the  New  York  Tribune  and  contributed  to  a 
Soviet  publication  in  America.  He  was  very  pro-Soviet.  Not  so 
Sonya.  She  was  an  eager  hostess  and  whenever  she  met  anybody 
she  was  quick  to  invite  him  for  tea.  Chamberlin  was  one  of  the  few 
serious  students  of  social  conditions  among  the  Moscow  correspond- 
ents. For  most  of  them  Moscow  was  a  hated,  uncomfortable  assign- 
ment which,  they  hoped,  would  serve  as  a  stepping  stone  for  pro- 
motion to  Berlin,  then  London  or  New  York. 

Popular  journalistic  topics  were  opium  and  alcohol.  On  a  red- 
brick wall  near  the  Red  Square  in  Moscow,  the  Bolsheviks  had  cut 
a  slogan  in  stone,  "Religion  is  the  opium  of  the  people."  Authorities 
attributed  it  to  Marx. 

The  Bolsheviks  are  anti-religious  and  anti-church*  The  Russian  re- 
ligious leaders  knew  that  Bolshevism  boded  no  good  for  them-  The 
church  did  what  it  could  to  defeat  the  Soviets  during  the  civil  war. 
The  Soviets  accordingly  treated  the  church  as  a  political  foe.  But 
political  opposition  apart,  the  Bolsheviks  regard  all  religion  as  an  un- 
scientific anachronism,  Their  goal  was  depicted  in  a  large  colored 
poster:  a  sturdy  workingman,  hammer  in  hand,  having  smashed 
churches,  synagogues,  and  mosques  on  earth,  was  seen  mounting  a 
ladder  to  heaven  where  Jesus,  the  Greek  Catholic  god,  Jehovah, 
Allah,  and  a  fire-breathing  black  demon  stood  frightened  at  his 
approach. 

On  Soviet  earth,  in  fact,  many  religious  institutions  had  been 
closed  but  many  remained  open;  religious  worship  was  officially 
free  but  actually  under  very  strong  social  pressure.  Bukharin 
and  Preobrazhensky  affirmed  in  their  ABC  of  Conmmmsin  that  "the 
campaign  against  the  backwardness  of  the  masses  in  the  matter  of 
religion  must  be  conducted  with  patience  and  consideration*  .  .  , 
The  credulous  are  extremely  sensitive,  ...  To  mock  .  .  *  would 
hinder  the  campaign  against  religion.7*  Nevertheless,  mockery  pre- 
vailed over  patience.  Every  religious  holiday  called  forth  an  anti- 
religious  carnival  On  Christmas  Day,  1922,  I  watched  as  young 
Communist  paraders  sang  parodies  of  church  hymns  in  the  streets  of 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  63 

Moscow.  Floats  drawn  by  horses  portrayed  priests,  rabbis,  and  mul- 
lahs performing  rites  while  sticking  one  hand  behind  them  to  re- 
ceive their  pay  from  capitalists.  A  devil  chased  a  priest  who  hid 
under  the  broad  skirts  of  a  peasant  woman— reminder  of  the  profli- 
gacy and  licentiousness  of  the  Greek  Catholic  church  which  Count 
Leo  Tolstoy  and  others  had  exposed.  One  float  represented  a  typical 
Russian  village:  large,  stone  church  with  gilded  bulbous  steeples 
and  gold  cross  in  the  midst  of  crooked,  unsanitary  mud  huts.  A 
young  Communist  on  a  cart  yelled,  "There  is  no  god,  and  if  there 
is  let  him  strike  me  dead  right  now."  Women  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  as  he  passed;  he  seemed  to  be  the  one  part  of  the  parade  that 
impressed  them.  In  the  evening,  effigies  of  the  gods  of  all  religions 
were  burnt  in  a  square  near  the  railway  station  while  couples  danced. 

A  writer  in  the  Soviet  press  protested  that  such  lampooning  an- 
tagonized the  devout  without  even  convincing  the  actors.  Don't  make 
the  church  a  martyr,  he  cautioned.  He  proposed  lecture  courses 
under  the  slogan,  "Down  with  god.  Long  live  science."  Within  two 
years  anti-religious  processions  and  public  spectacles  ceased.  Perse- 
cution of  churchmen  continued.  The  Greek  Catholic,  Roman  Cath- 
olic, and  Jewish  churches  bore  the  brunt  of  the  direct  Bolshevik 
attack.  But  in  the  peripheral  territories  of  the  culturally  more  re- 
tarded Christian  and  Moslem  racial  minorities,  greater  caution  was 
exercised.  The  followers  of  Allah  received  special  treatment  because 
the  authorities  feared  a  violent  reaction  to  repression.  In  Ufa,  Siberia, 
for  instance,  an  all-Russian  Moslem  Church  congress  (there  must 
be  about  ten  million  Moslems  in  Soviet  Russia)  was  permitted  to 
convene  in  June,  1923,  and  it  actually  sent  a  resolution  of  greetings 
to  Lenin  which  appeared  in  the  Bolshevik  press.  It  stated  that  all 
the  faithful  would  pray  to  Allah  for  his  health. 

The  Bolsheviks  did  not  confine  their  efforts  to  persecution  and 
atheistic  propaganda.  They  endeavored  to  split  the  Greek  Catholic 
church.  In  opposition  to  the  central  conservative  church  presided 
over  by  Patriarch  Tikhon,  two  schisms  took  place;  one  result  was, 
the  "Living  Church,"  led  by  Archbishop  Yevdokim  of  Nizhni 
Novgorod,  Bishop  Krasnitsky  of  Moscow,  and  Vedensky,  an  elo- 
quent cultured  priest  whom  on  several  occasions  I  heard  preach  to 
packed  congregations  and  whom  I  once  heard  debate  publicly  with 
Anatole  Lunacharsky,  federal  Soviet  Commissar  of  Education;  the 
other  was  the  Church  of  the  Resurrection  guided  by  Metropolitan 
Antonin  of  Moscow.  Both  groups  wished  to  be  reconciled  to  the 


64  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Soviet  regime  and  hoped  in  return  for  better  treatment.  No  doubt, 
spontaneous  movements  towards  the  reform  of  the  corrupt  Greek 
Catholic  church  were  natural  under  the  impetus  of  the  Revolution. 
But  I  suspect  the  GPU  had  a  hand  in  these  schisms.  I  cannot  prove 
it.  Yet  knowledge  gained  in  later  years  about  Soviet  secret  police 
methods  makes  me  wonder  whether  these  trends  towards  the  puri- 
fication of  Greek  Catholicism  did  not  find  some  of  their  inspiration, 
or  at  least  some  of  their  financing,  in  the  spacious  Lubianka  head- 
quarters of  the  GPU. 

Next  to  religion  the  favorite  theme  of  many  correspondents  was 
Russian  drinking  habits.  The  United  States  was  "dry"  as  a  result  of 
the  Eighteenth  Amendment  and  by  the  same  token  it  was  swamped 
with  bootleg  liquor.  Soviet  Russia,  too,  lived  under  prohibition  and 
drank  samogon,  or  home-brew.  Under  the  Czarist  regime,  vodka, 
a  beverage  with  forty  percent  alcohol  content,  more  or  less,  but 
never  much  less,  was  manufactured  and  sold  as  a  government  mo- 
nopoly* Lenin  and  other  Communists  regarded  this  as  one  of  Czar- 
ism's  most  heinous  crimes.  In  1914,  the  Czar  enacted  prohibition 
because  he  knew  that  otherwise  the  Russian  propensity  for  drunk- 
enness would  paralyze  every  military  effort.  The  Soviet  regime  con- 
tinued this  wise  measure.  But  the  Russians  yearned  for  vodka,  and 
particularly  in  the  villages  the  muzhik  brewed  his  own  from  wheat* 
The  government  established  a  special  commission  headed  by  Smido- 
vitch,  an  old  party  idealist,  to  combat  samogon.  Its  production  was 
punishable  with  death*  Bootlegging  was  counter-revolution-  A 
Pr&vda  article  mercilessly  flayed  a  certain  Professor  Ozerov  who, 
in  the  Moscow  Econoim$t>  advocated  restoration  of  the  govern- 
ment vodka  monopoly.  Under  the  Czar,  the  party  organ  thundered, 
"drunkenness  was  a  social  calamity.  It  poisoned  the  national  organ- 
ism*" After  the  famine  and  suffering  and  consequent  undermining 
of  Russian  physique,  vodka  now  would  **in  several  years  convert 
the  country  into  a  cemetery.**  Ozerov  promised  the  state  an  income 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  million  rubles  in  gold  from  the  vodka  mo- 
nopoly. The  Pravda  spurned  this  polluted  lucre  and  intimated  that  it 
regarded  the  professor  as  a  sly  counter-revolutionist.  In  1 92  3,  the  Soviet 
government,  however,  introduced  the  making  and  distribution  of 
vodka  as  a  government  monopoly.  It  bowed  to  the  reality  of  boot- 
legging—"the  peasants  are  wasting  their  grain  on  it"-it  wanted  the 
gold  income,  and  it  had  to  give  the  population  something  on  which 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  65 

to  spend  its  earnings.  No  shoes  or  apartments  or  pants?  Then  at  least 
alcohol, 

Lenin  was  of  course  big  news  for  every  foreign  journalist.  On 
March  12,  1923,  the  Pravda  took  the  unusual  step  of  publishing 
an  extra  edition  announcing  that  Lenin  had  had  another  attack.  His 
blood  circulation  was  again  irregular  and  that  interfered  with  the 
movement  of  the  right  leg  and  right  arm.  Speech  was  slightly  im- 
paired. Complete  rest  was  ordered.  He  would  not  even  see  news- 
papers because  they  made  him  want  to  participate  in  politics. 

Who  would  succeed  Lenin  if  he  died?  Everybody  guessed  a  dif- 
ferent person.  Going  through  my  files,  I  find  that,  writing  from 
Moscow  to  the  New  York  Evening  Post  of  April  12,  1923,  I  re- 
ported, "Stalin  is  the  least  known  abroad,  yet  the  most  likely  to  wear 
Lenin's  shoes  if  anybody  will."  I  do  not  remember  how  I  reached 
this  conclusion,  for  Stalin  was  also  little  known  in  Russia.  He  had 
played  a  role  in  the  early  days  of  the  Revolution  and  in  the  civil 
war.  Subsequently,  he  quietly  ran  the  Commissariat  of  Nationalities, 
an  important  but  not  a  pivotal  job.  Why  should  I  have  expected  him 
to  be  preferred  over  Trotzky,  Rykov,  Kamenev,  Djerzhinsky,  Zino- 
viev?  The  reasons  became  clear  later. 

The  correspondents  faced  a  problem.  If  Lenin  died  the  censor- 
ship would  certainly  stop  journalists  from  sending  the  news  abroad 
until  it  had  been  published  inside,  and  that  might  be  delayed  pend- 
ing measures  of  security.  Isaac  Don  Levine,  of  the  Hearst  press, 
went  to  London  at  this  time  and  agreed  with  his  office  there  that 
when  Lenin  died  he  would  send  a  telegram  asking  for  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds.  (When  Lenin  died  the  censorship  did  retard  dis- 
patches, Levine  cabled  for  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  but 
his  office  cabled  back  that  he  was  overdrawn  and  not  entitled  to 
another  advance.  It  had  forgotten  the  code  and  it  lost  a  world 
scoop.) 

Once  F.  A.  Mackenzie  gave  a  luncheon  in  honor  of  Robert  Hodg- 
son, the  chief  of  the  British  Mission  in  Moscow.  We  all  drank  to 
the  health  of  King  George  V.  We  drank  to  the  health  of  Warren 
Gamaliel  Harding.  Whereupon,  Isaac  Don  Levine,  who  was  some- 
thing of  an  enfant  terrible,  suggested  that  since  we  were  in  Russia 
we  might  also  drink  to  the  health  of  the  chief  of  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment who  was  ill  and  perhaps  needed  it.  Consternation.  Could 
His  British  Majesty's  agent  drink  to  the  Bolshevik  dictator,  and 


66  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

would  a  lot  of  anti-Bolshevik  newspapermen  also  drink  to  him? 
Clouds  on  numerous  faces  and  smiles  hidden  behind  others.  Was 
the  polite  party  breaking  up?  Arthur  Ransome  saved  the  day.  Ran- 
some  was  the  regular  correspondent  on  the  Manchester  Guardian, 
a  typical  Britisher  with  long  mustache,  pipe,  lanky  legs,  and  broad 
accent.  He  understood  politics  and  had  reported  the  Revolution  from 
its  inception;  he  was  the  friend  of  Lenin,  Trotzky,  Chicherin,  and 
Radek.  But  he  was  also  the  author  of  wonderful  children's  tales. 
And  so  now  he  started  telling  a  children's  story  about  a  snake  and 
a  frog,  and  on  and  on  it  went,  humorous  and  piquant,  with  no 
point,  just  beautiful  words  and  a  laugh  now  and  then  and  shrewd 
observations  on  animals  which  might  be  applicable  to  human  beings. 
When  he  concluded  the  narrative,  the  tranquil  atmosphere  of  polite 
society  had  been  restored,  and  the  guests  dispersed. 

Lenin,  severely  handicapped,  with  bullets  from  a  woman  assas- 
sin's revolver  still  lodged  in  his  body  and  weighed  down  by  paraly- 
sis, saw  further  than  any  other  Bolshevik.  Two  problems  occupied 
his  mind:  administration  and  culture.  He  realized  that  theory 
and  philosophies  availed  nothing  without  efficient  government  serv- 
ice. He  feared  the  rise  of  a  bureaucracy.  All  his  articles  in  the 
last  year  of  his  life  concentrated  on  the  twin  problem  of  bureaucracy 
and  culture.  Unless  Soviet  Departments  functioned  with  obvious 
benefit  to  all,  Lenin  insisted,  the  peasant  would  abandon  his  alliance 
with  the  workers  and  collaborate  with  the  Nepmen,  and  that  would 
spell  catastrophe  for  the  Soviets.  "Better  Less,  but  Better**  was  the 
title  he  gave  to  one  essay  on  these  questions.  In  social,  political,  and 
economic  matters  "we  are  terribly  revolutionary,"  he  sneered,  but 
when  it  comes  to  office  management  the  Bolsheviks  were  worse  than 
conservative.  Russia  was  less  educated  than  other  countries.  The 
Bolshevik  goal  must  be.  "First  study,  second  study,  and  third  study; 
study  and  check  what  you  have  studied." 

The  movement  towards  world  revolution,  he  said,  was  being 
thwarted  by  the  enslavement  of  Germany.  Russia  herself  "lacked 
sufficient  civilization  to  pass  directly  to  socialism."  The  Bolsheviks 
therefore  had  to  build  a  state  which  could  withstand  a  long  siege 
and  that  was  only  possible  with  efficient  administration.  And  again, 
in  another  article:  "To  build  socialism  it  is  necessary  to  be  civilised," 

Lenin  put  great  trust  in  co-operatives.  "The  simple  growth  of  co- 
operatives .  .  .  is  identical  with  the  growth  of  socialism."  Co-op- 
erative stores  could  defeat  the  private  Neprnan  who  was  the  great 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  67 

danger.  The  peasants  and  workers  must  participate  in  these  co-opera- 
tives. Without  mass  participation  in  economic  enterprises  there  is 
no  socialism.  Lenin  advised  a  radical  alteration  of  outlook.  "For- 
merly we  put  the  primary  emphasis  on  the  political  struggle,  on 
the  seizure  of  power.  Now  the  center  of  gravity  has  shifted  for  us 
to  peacetime  cultural  work."  Furthermore:  "Complete  co-operation 
is  only  possible  after  a  full-fledged  cultural  revolution."  From  more 
culture  to  more  co-operatives  and  then  to  socialism.  Finally,  and 
these  are  the  last  published  words  of  Lenin,  he  quoted  Napoleon's 
saying  and  used  the  original  French,  "On  f  engage  et  puts  on  voie" 
This  is  a  typical  Leninist  dialectical  proposition.  Lenin  translated  it 
freely,  "First  you  enter  a  serious  struggle  and  then  you  see  what 
happens."  The  Bolsheviks  staged  the  1917  Revolution  without  know- 
ing what  would  come  of  it.  Now  they  knew  and  they  had  won  a 
victory.  But  the  future  of  the  Russian  Revolution,  Lenin  continued, 
could  not  be  found  in  a  textbook  on  revolution. 

Lenin  was  profoundly  Russian.  He  sensed  Russia  and  had  made 
exact  studies  of  its  conditions,  literature,  and  history.  But  Western 
Europe  was  his  spiritual  home.  He  had  lived  in  it  during  many  years 
of  exile  and  he  respected  its  attainments.  Hitting  hard  and  straight 
as  usual,  he  wrote  on  January  4,  1923,  in  Pravda,  "While  we  are 
talking  nonsense  about  proletarian  culture  and  comparing  it  with 
bourgeois  culture,  statistics  show  how  bad  things  are  [in  Russia] 
in  the  field  of  plain  reading  and  writing.  We  have  made  little  prog- 
ress in  this  respect  since  the  Czar  fell.  This  shows  how  much  real 
hard  work  we  must  do  before  we  rise  to  the  level  of  the  ordinary 
civilized  country  in  Western  Europe."  So  they  were  capitalist  yet 
civilized! 

Lenin  mingled  a  high  appraisal  of  western  culture  with  the  ex- 
pectation that  socialism  would  improve  it.  The  Bolshevik  goal  of 
world  revolution  springs  from  a  conviction  that  socialism  is  better. 
This  consciousness  of  a  mission  to  spread  the  Red  gospel  throughout 
the  "heathen"  bourgeois  world  antedates  1917.  It  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  fact  that  Russia  went  Bolshevik.  But  when  Bolshevism 
did  conquer  Russia  a  second  reason  for  world  revolution  became 
operative:  to  save  Soviet  Russia.  In  the  beginning,  nobody  thought 
that  a  Communist  Russia  could  exist  as  an  island  in  a  capitalist  sea. 
Either  one  or  more  of  the  important  countries  would  adopt  social- 
ism and  break  the  solid  capitalist  front  against  Russia  or  the  Revo- 
lution in  Russia  would  succumb.  That  is  why  a  faction  among  the 


68  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Bolsheviks  rejected  the  1918  Brest-Litovsk  peace  with  Germany. 
They  thought  that  if  the  Kaiser  invaded  proletarian  Russia  the 
workers  of  Germany  would  revolt  in  protest  and  rescue  Bolshevik 
,  Russia.  Signs  of  ferment  were  visible  in  Germany  at  the  time,  and 
a  war  on  the  Soviets  might  accelerate  the  process,  they  contended. 
But  Lenin  refused  to  gamble.  "Germany,"  he  said,  "is  only  preg- 
nant with  revolution  whereas  here  in  Russia  a  perfectly  healthy  baby 
—the  socialist  republic— has  already  been  born,  and  we  may  kill  it 
if  we  start  a  war."  This  "bird  in  the  hand"  principle  implied  no 
renunciation  of  world  revolution;  it  was  simply  a  keen  assessment 
of  probabilities.  As  the  Soviet  regime  grew  stronger  and  older  the 
readiness  to  sacrifice  it  or  its  interests  to  foreign  uprisings  dimin- 
ished. But  while  Lenin  lived,  the  official  attitude  was  that  "the  fate 
of  the  Soviet  government  is  directly  related  to  the  fate  of  the  world 
revolution." 

Accordingly,  every  ray  of  revolutionary  sun  in  Europe  or  Asia 
was  focused  by  a  huge  Bolshevik  magnifying  glass  to  warm  Rus- 
sian hopes.  In  mid-January,  1923,  Poincar£  sent  a  French  army  into 
Germany's  greatest  industrial  region— the  Ruhr*  He  expected  French 
bayonets  to  collect  reparations  and  dig  coal  for  France.  Chicherin 
called  it  "a  crime/'  Excitement  reached  white  heat  in  Moscow*  I 
saw  several  hundred  thousand  truly  enthusiastic  workingmen  parade 
through  the  capital  Similar  processions  defiled  in  provincial  cities. 
A  fortnight  later,  "events  in  Central  Europe/*  had  convinced  the 
Pravda,  "that  without  a  revolution,  society  is  condemned  to  perish. 
Decay  costs  more  than  revolution*  Many  countries  cannot  be  saved 
without  new  regimes."  And  within  a  few  days:  "Only  the  proletariat 
can  save  Germany.  The  bourgeoisie  has  sung  its  song."  The  wish 
is  always  father  to  the  thought  with  sanguine  people.  As  long  ago 
as  1848,  Marx  and  Engels,  the  father  and  mother  of  socialist  science— 
Marxism— imagined  that  "a  specter  is  haunting  Europe— the  specter  of 
Communism."  Their  'disciples  have  frequently,  and  just  as  mistak- 
enly, taken  each  portent  for  the  event  itself.  Karl  Radek,  German 
in  education  and  habits  of  mind,  was  sure  in  1923  the  Russian  and 
German  proletariats  would  soon  unite  to  begin  a  new  phase  of  his- 
tory* But  Russia  was  weak.  The  Soviets  could  do  only  two  things: 
they  sent  half  a  million  poods  of  bread  to  the  Ruhr  workers— that 
was  approximately  twenty-one  pounds  per  man,  very  nice,  nobody 
else  did  as  much,  but  still  only  a  gesture;  and  they  warned  Poland 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  69 

not  to  take  advantage  of  the  French  invasion  by  marching  into  Ger- 
many. Moscow  hinted  action  if  this  happened.  The  Poles  had  mobil- 
ized their  army.  Roman  Knoll,  the  Polish  Charge  d' Affaires  in  Mos- 
cow told  Radek,  who  passed  it  on  to  Chicherin,  that  if  Germany 
went  Communist,  Poland  would  not  object—provided  she  could  an- 
nex German  East  Prussia.  Thereupon  Chicherin  summoned  Knoll 
and  advised  Poland  to  keep  hands  off.  Czechoslovakia  also  found  a 
way  of  informing  Chicherin  that  she  would  not  intervene  against 
a  Communist  Germany  as  long  as  Czechoslovakia's  territory  remained 
secure.  Poland  and  Czechoslovakia  were  allies  of  France.  They  would 
not  have  taken  such  diplomatic  steps  without  France.  It  was  obvious 
that  France  calmly  contemplated  die  prospect  of  a  Communist  Ger- 
many in  the  belief  that  revolution  would  disrupt  Germany  and 
undermine  the  traditional  foe.  Poincar6  and  the  Comintern  dreamt 
the  same  dream—in  vain.  Nothing  happened. 

In  the  summer  of  19*3  I  returned  to  Germany.  The  mark  had 
outrun  the  ruble;  inflation  made  Germans  nervous  and  physically 
sick;  everybody  speculated  in  currency;  kids  talked  about  die  rate 
of  the  dollar  and  pound.  Food  riots  in  numerous  towns  kept  the 
police  busy.  But  it  was  summer  and  I  was  tired  after  nine  months  in 
Russia  and  I  went  to  the  seashore,  Living  costs  had  fallen  so  low  for 
"dollar  princes"  that  I  could  maintain  a  wife,  a  first  son,  his  nurse, 
and  myself  in  a  good  hotel  on  the  Baltic  Riviera. 

Between  swimming  and  tennis  I  wrote  five  articles  on  Soviet 
Russia  and  with  these  in  my  suitcase  I  set  out  to  "conquer"  America. 
From  the  Manhattan  pier  I  went  straight  to  the  Nation  office  at 
20  Vesey  Street.  The  Nation  had  been  my  ideal  goal  when  I  dreamed 
in  youth  of  becoming  a  writer.  At  the  office  I  asked  for  Lewis  Gan- 
nett, one  of  the  editors.  He  was  attending  a  staff  conference,  the 
telephone  girl  said.  I  asked  for  Freda  Kirchwey.  She  was  out  of 
town.  So  instead  of  leaving  my  five  valued  manuscripts,  I  took  them 
home  and  sat  on  them  for  months.  I  did  not  know  that  literary 
agents  existed,  and  I  had  no  connections.  Finally,  on  the  repeated 
suggestions  of  friends,  I  bravely  telephoned  Freda  Kirchwey.  She 
was  very  gracious  but  informed  me  that  a  special  Russian  issue  was 
about  to  go  to  press.  In  the  near  future,  there  would  not  be  much 
room  for  Russian  material,  but  she  would  like  to  see  mine  anyway. 
I  sent  them  in.  In  a  few  days  I  received  a  summons  to  appear  at 
20  Vesey  Street,  and  Ernest  Gruening,  managing  editor,  later  Gov- 


70  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

ernor  of  Alaska,  told  me  they  would  take  three  of  the  five.  I  was 
surprised  and  delighted. 

Charles  Evans  Hughes  was  then  Secretary  of  State,  and  he  op- 
posed diplomatic  recognition  of  the  Soviet  government  because  it 
fomented  world  revolution.  I  wrote  a  four-hundred-word  note  on 
the  subject  and  brought  it  in  to  The  Nation.  Lewis  Gannett  and 
Freda  Kirchwey  read  it  as  I  sat  there.  Lewis  said,  "I  don't  think 
it's  convincing."  Freda  said,  "I  think  it  is  convincing."  Lewis  made 
several  wise  and  constructive  suggestions  which  I  accepted,  and  the 
article  appeared  in  the  next  issue  under  the  editor-given  title,  "What 
Mr.  Hughes  Needs  to  Know."  In  it  I  reported  what  Karl  Radek 
had  said  to  me  in  Moscow,  "Revolutions  are  not  carried  in  suit- 
cases." A  country  must  be  ready  for  revolution  before  revolutionists 
can  do  anything  about  it.  And  I  had  heard  Trotzky  assert  at  a  public 
meeting  that  no  revolution  threatened  the  United  States.  I  simply 
made  the  point  that  there  existed  among  the  Bolsheviks  two  points 
of  view— the  national  and  international— and  "a  constant  struggle  in 
the  Communist  party"  went  on  between  them.  In  the  Internation- 
alist wing  I  included  Radek,  Zinoviev,  and  Bukharin,  who  would 
stake  the  safety  of  the  Russian  regime  in  order  to  effect  a  revolution 
in  some  European  country*  The  so-called  "nationalists"— I  did  not 
mention  names  and  did  not  give  Stalin's  view— felt  that  unless  they 
were  a  success  in  Russia  no  nation  would  be  willing  to  follow  their 
example.  It  now  seems  clear  that,  for  1923,  that  was  a  sound  analysis 
of  the  coming  struggle  for  Bolshevik  power. 

My  problem  was  to  finance  the  trip  back  to  Europe.  Henry 
G.  Alsberg  advised  me  to  offer  my  services  to  The  Nation  as  Rus- 
sian correspondent  and  ask  for  an  advance.  This  appeared  to  be  too 
wild  an  ambition,  and  I  did  not  attempt  it.  The  weeks  dragged  on, 
however,  without  anything  happening,  and  in  despair  one  day  I 
made  an  appointment  with  Freda  Kirchwey.  She  promised  to  con- 
sult Oswald  Garrison  Villard.  When  I  returned  the  verdict  was  that 
I  could  be  staff  correspondent,  without  an  advance,  although  they 
would  undertake  to  accept  a  certain  number  of  contributions*  This 
was  good  news;  I  felt  it  a  great  achievement  to  establish  such  a  con- 
tact with  the  magazine.  A  week  later  I  sold  an  article  on  religion  in 
Russia  to  Current  History  and  another  to  the  Menorah  Journal,  and 
the  income  was  just  enough  for  the  transatlantic  passage  with  a  few 
dollars  to  spare. 

I  was  walking  down  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  on  January 


LENIN'S  RUSSIA  71 

21,  1924,  when  the  afternoon  papers  blazoned  the  news  of  Lenin's 
death.  In  one  hundred  and  forty  years  Europe  had  produced  two 
figures  to  whom  history  will  devote  more  than  a  paragraph  when  the 
nineteenth  century  and  the  first  quarter  of  the  twentieth  are  as 
ancient  as  the  Greek  era  is  to  us.  They  were  Napoleon  and  Lenin. 
Napoleon  was  a  brilliant  failure.  He  failed  in  Egypt,  he  dreamed  in 
vain  of  India,  he  lost  in  Russia  and  met  defeat  in  Europe.  Final 
judgment  of  Lenin  must  be  suspended.  The  best  biographies  are  of 
dead  men.  When  the  effect  of  a  man's  work  lives  long  after  him 
the  definitive  biography  waits.  Lenin's  niche  in  history  will  be  de- 
fined by  the  next  three-fifths  of  the  twentieth  century. 

What  really  made  Lenin  great  is  what  he  wanted.  When  the  goal 
is  limited,  success  is  apt  to  make  one  a  big  little  man.  Lenin  wished 
to  forge  a  new  world,  and  the  stupendousness  of  Lenin's  conception 
enhances  his  concrete  achievement.  Lenin  spurned  personal  triumphs 
and  functioned  through  an  impersonal  weapon— the  Communist 
party.  His  power  lay  in  his  selflessness,  unusual  will,  singleness  of 
purpose  which  sometimes  amounted  to  mania,  and  in  an  uncanny 
faculty  of  seeing  and  doing  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time.  He  set 
the  date  of  the  Bolshevik  Revolution.  If  it  had  been  attempted  sev- 
eral weeks  earlier  or  two  months  later  it  might  have  failed.  History 
revealed  itself  to  him  and  he  made  himself  its  servant. 

Did  Lenin  make  history  or  did  history  make  Lenin?  A  hundred 
Lenins  could  not  have  produced  a  Revolution  in  November,  1917, 
if  Russia  had  not  been  ripe  for  it.  Lesser  men  like  Zinoviev  and 
Kamenev  would  have  missed  the  opportunity;  Lenin  correctly  diag- 
nosed the  symptoms  and  applied  his  cure  at  the  right  juncture. 

Lenin  brought  to  politics  passion,  faith,  and  instinct.  But  these 
were  effective  because  he  harnessed  them  to  a  scientific  mind.  Lenin 
respected  facts.  Again  and  again  he  told  his  followers  that  theories 
deduced  from  books  or  brewed  by  intellectual  alchemy  were  worth- 
less. Political  theory  not  based  on  a  deep  knowledge  of  life  was 
barren,  he  believed.  Lenin  could  understand  the  daily  thinking  of 
a  peasant,  a  soldier,  a  workingman  as  well  as  of  a  French  politician. 
He  combined  a  comprehension  of  broad  issues  with  a  knack  for 
detail.  And  he  could  grasp  the  inner  meaning  of  ordinary  things  like 
bread,  fatigue,  peace,  hope,  personal  dignity. 

In  politics  Lenin  never  lied  and  he  told  as  much  of  the  truth  as 
possible.  No  statesman  tells  the  whole  truth.  Lenin  won  popular 
support  by  demonstrations  of  wisdom.  If  he  thought  he  was  right, 


72  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

mountains  could  not  budge  him.  In  Lenin's  brain,  now  preserved  in 
Moscow  and  being  studied  under  the  microscope,  agility  fathered 
opportunism.  His  opportunism  represented  a  compromise  with  con- 
ditions, rarely  with  principles.  Lenin  was  characterized  by  a  com- 
plete disregard  of  first  public  reactions  to  acts  that  apparently  com- 
promised him.  He  accepted  the  gift  of  the  sealed  railway  car  from 
General  von  Ludendorff  in  order  to  get  back  to  Russia  from  Swit- 
zerland and  lead  the  Revolution.  He  wanted  help  from  the  Allies, 
too.  Lenin  was  plastic  if  necessary,  and  adamant  if  necessary.  "Ulia- 
nov  is  a  bull-dog;  he  has  a  death  grip,"  a  Bolshevik  once  said  of 
Lenin.  Very  true.  But  he  knew  at  what  moment  to  let  go.  That  is 
what  made  the  New  Economic  Policy  a  stroke  of  genius. 

Now  Soviet  Russia  faced  an  enigmatic  future  without  Lenin.  A 
battle  for  the  succession  was  inevitable. 


6.  Six  Lost  Years 

M    ^UROPE  seemed  on  the  verge  of  collapse  at  the  end  of  1923. 
rj     The  collapse  did  not  come.  Improvement  came  instead,.  The 
JL — '  Cassandras,  Communist  and  otherwise,  were  wrong.  Stabiliza- 
tion lasted  six  years  until  the  end  of  1929. 

"Between  1924  and  192$,  Russia,  Germany,  and  most  other  nations 
registered  progress.  Living  standards  rose.  Peace  reigned.  Encour- 
aged by  these  phenomena,  statesmen,  econo?msts,  and  businessmen 
attacked  fundamental  problems,  too.  Here  they  -failed— and  it  was 
the  world's  last  chance.  In  those  six  quiet  years  between  1924  and 
i  $2$  no  solid  base  was  built  -for  European  and  international  life. 
The  second  World  War  of  1939  started  where  the  first  left  off,  in 
191$,  but  it  did  not  loom  as  a  definite  menace  until  1930  when  the 
period  of  stabilization  closed. 

During  the  six  fat  years  from  1924  to,  and  including,  1929  the 
Soviet  Union  lived  under  the  sign  of  the  Trotzky-Stalin  feud.  Ger- 
many struggled  with  reparations,  England  and  France  struggled  with 
one  another  and,  on  the  question  of  war  debts,  with  the  United 
States.  Disarmament  was  in  the  air,  but  it  never  came  down  to  earth. 
Economic  panaceas  were  debated  in  Geneva,  London,  Paris,  and 
other  centers.  Nothing  came  of  them.  Italy  jogged  on  under  Fas- 
cism. China  boiled.  India  was  in  turmoil.  The  United  States  cozwted 
its  stock  and  bond  profits. 

The  era  of  unprecedented  prosperity  in  America  was  terminated 
by  the  stock-market  crash  of  October,  192$,  and  the  subsequent 
business  depession.  Three  lean  years  followed,  preparing  the  United 
States  for  President  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  and  the  New  Deal.  Roose- 
velt first  took  office  on  March  4, 1933. 

Soon  the  same  economic  slump  reached  Germany.  The  Reich  slid 
steadily  downward  from  1930  to  1933.  At  the  bottom  o-f  the  tobog- 
gan was  Adolf  Hitler.  He  assumed  office  on  January  30,  7.933.  Dif- 
ferent countries,  different  solutions,  different  leaders. 
•  In  Soviet  Russia  that  uneasy  symbiosis  of  capitalism  and  socialism 
called  NEP  or  New  Economic  Policy,  which  began  in 

73 


74  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

reached  a  dead  end  in  1929.  That  year  marked  its  grave  and  the 
launching  of  the  high-pressure  industrialization  effort  known  as  the 
Five  Year  Plan.  It  also  marked  the  emergence  of  Joseph  Stalin  as 
the  undisputed  master  of  Soviet  destinies. 

The  era  of  1933  and  after  <was  dominated  by  Stalin,  Hitler,  and 


PART  ONE:  STALIN  VERSUS  TROTZKY 

The  feud  between  Stalin  and  Trotzky  was  a  battle  of  giants  that 
rocked  the  Soviet  Union  for  many  years  and  profoundly  affected 
world  events.  It  was  a  relentless  combat  in  which  neither  man  re- 
laxed his  grip.  Only  death  could  separate  them.  With  his  last  breath, 
Trotzky  flayed  the  dictator  who  prevented  him  from  succeeding 
Lenin.  There  was  venom,  force,  and  the  rage  of  inhibited  genius 
in  Trotzky's  verbal  thrusts  against  the  master  of  the  Kremlin. 

But  Stalin?  Stalin  won.  He  was  master  of  the  Soviet  Union.  Yet 
he  never  suspended  hostilities;  unremittingly  he  pursued  Trotzky. 
Not  content"  with  exiling  him  to  Alma  Ata,  thousands  of  miles  from 
Moscow  in  Central  Asia,  Stalin  deported  him  to  Turkey.  Under 
Stalin  pressure,  the  Turkish  government  then  expelled  him.  There- 
after the  Kremlin  frowned  whenever  any  European  government  with 
which  it  maintained  diplomatic  relations  seemed  inclined  to  grant 
Trotzky  asylum.  Finally  Norway  braved  Stalin's  wrath  and  took  in 
the  famous  exile.  On  Moscow's  insistence,  the  Norwegian  govern- 
ment also  asked  Trotzky  to  go.  He  went  to  Mexico,  Accordingly, 
the  Soviet  government  refused  to  establish  diplomatic  relations  with 
Mexico. 

The  Moscow  trials  were  first  of  all  trials  of  Trotzky  in  absentia. 
Trotzky  in  Norway,  Trotzky  in  Mexico  was  the  chief  defendant  in 
the  legal  proceedings  under  the  klieg  lights  in  Moscow's  Hall  of 
Columns.  The  purges  were  directed  against  Trotzky's  friends,  against 
friends  of  those  friends,  against  Communists  who  might  be  or  might 
become  Trotzkyists.  The  blood  feud  between  the  two  revolutionists 
went  on. 

Tens  of  thousands  of  men  and  women  have  been  shot  and  im- 
prisoned or  sent  to  rot  in  frozen  wastes  because  of  this  war  between 
Trotzky  and  Stalin.  Soviet  domestic  and  foreign  policies  were  per- 
verted by  it.  History  has  been  rewritten  and  changed  because  of  it. 
And  the  whole  labor  movement  of  the  world  was  rent  and  weakened 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  75 

by  the  Trotzky-Stalin  enmity.  In  1939,  I  discussed  the  Soviet  purges 
and  Moscow  trials  with  John  Strachey,  the  British  popularizer  of 
Marxism.  He  said,  "They  helped  to  bring  on  Munich."  Hitler's  vic- 
tory over  Czechoslovakia,  perhaps  even  the  second  World  War, 
reflects  this  fantastic  bout  between  the  Ukrainian  Jew  and  the  son 
of  an  illiterate  Georgian  cobbler. 

Was  this  historic  duel  personal  or  was  it  a  clash  of  ideas?  Trozky 
admitted  that  he  had  a  violent  dislike  for  Stalin.  "He  always  repelled 
me/'  writes  Trotzky  in  his  autobiography,  adding  that  Stalin's  char- 
acteristics were  "a  narrowness  of  interests,  empiricism,  psychological 
crudeness,  and  the  peculiar  cynicism  of  a  provincial."  The  long  con- 
troversy between  the  Stalinites  and  Trotzkyists  concerned  itself  with 
the  world  revolution,  the  Chinese  revolution,  and  the  Kremlin's  eco- 
nomic policies  in  Russia.  It  descended  to  ugly  diatribe  and  invective 
but  always  against  a  background  of  impersonal  ideology  and  theory. 
Yet  years  before  any  of  these  problems  had  arisen  or  could  have 
arisen,  Stalin  was  intriguing  against  Trotzky,  and  Trotzky  was  ap- 
pealing to  Lenin  against  Stalin.  Stalin  appears  to  have  been  jealous 
of  Trotzky  from  the  very  beginning.  In  the  autumn  of  1918,  Gen- 
eral Yudenitch,  a  White  Russian  leader,  advanced  from  Esthonia 
on  Petrograd.  Trotzky  personally  led  the  defense.  For  his  successful 
efforts,  he  was  decorated  with  the  Order  of  the  Red  Banner.  Trotzky 
himself  describes  the  session  of  the  Politbureau,  the  highest  Com- 
munist authority  in  Russia,  at  which  this  distinction  was  decided  on. 
Leo  Kamenev,  assistant  premier  under  Lenin,  proposed  that  Stalin 
be  granted  the  same  decoration.  "What  for?"  exclaimed  Mikhail 
Kalinin,  later  President  of  the  Soviet  Union. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  Bukharin  elucidated.  "Lenin  thought 
this  out.  Stalin  can't  live  if  he  hasn't  got  what  the  other  fellow  has. 
He  can't  forgive  it." 

As  early  as  October  4,  1918,  Trotzky,  then  at  the  front  command- 
ing the  Red  Army,  telegraphed  to  Lenin,  "I  insist  categorically  on 
the  removal  of  Stalin."  Stalin  was  at  Tsaritsin  (later  christened  Stalin- 
grad) on  the  Volga  acting  as  the  political  support  of  Voroshilov  who 
was  in  charge  of  the  Bolshevik  troops  there.  Trotzky  accused  Stalin 
and  Voroshilov  of  creating  a  little  military  kingdom  for  themselves 
and  of  refusing  to  obey  orders  from  headquarters.  Stalin  was  removed 
and  transferred  to  the  southern  front  in  the  Ukraine.  There  Voroshi- 
lov soon  joined  him.  Again  Trotzky  and  Stalin  collided.  January 
10,  1919,  Trotzky  was  telegraphing  to  Moscow  that  "the  Tsaritsin 


76  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

methods  which  had  led  to  the  complete  disintegration  of  the  Tsarit- 
sin  army  cannot  be  permitted  in  the  Ukraine.  .  .  .  The  tactics  of 
Stalin,  Voroshilov,  and  Company  will  mean  the  collapse  of  our  whole 
undertaking."  Lenin  advised  Trotzky  to  compromise  with  Stalin. 
But  no  compromise  could  be  effected  between  these  two.  In  June, 
1919,  the  course  of  the  war  in  the  Ukraine  was  running  against  the 
Bolsheviks.  Stalin  urged  the  Communist  Central  Committee  in  Mos- 
cow to  dismiss  Trotzky  from  the  Red  Army  command.  Trotzky 
thereupon  offered  his  resignation.  It  was  not  accepted. 

Trotzky  was  direct  and  merciless  in  his  criticisms.  Either  he  ig- 
nored individual  psychology  or  else  he  did  not  understand  it.  He 
stepped  on  people's  toes.  And,  says  Trotzky,  Stalin  systematically 
collected  those  on  whose  toes  Trotzky  had  trod.  Trotzky  could  not 
subordinate  himself  to  anybody.  He  even  found  difficulty  in  submit- 
ting to  Lenin  and  declined  to  be  Lenin's  right-hand  man.  He  pre- 
ferred a  field  of  activity  for  himself  where  he  would  be  first. 

Trotzky  was  an  erratic,  capricious  individualist,  Trotzky's  speeches 
and  articles  warmed  and  thrilled  multitudes,  but  in  his  personal  rela- 
tions he  was  cold.  People  were  cold  to  him.  Even  Lenin,  of  a  friendly, 
sunny  disposition,  could  not  get  close  to  Trotzky  and  wrote  to  him 
as  "Esteemed  Comrade/'  instead  of  "Dear  Comrade."  Chicherin  used 
to  say  to  me,  "Trotzky  was  a  prima  donna."  There  was  something 
of  the  pedant  in  Trotzky.  He  was  a  master  administrator  and  organ- 
izer and  insisted  on  the  execution  of  instructions  and  on  the  strictest 
attention  to  details.  In  his  personal  dress  and  habits  he  was  neat  His 
desk  was  a  model  of  order.  He  tried  to  teach  Russians  punctuality. 
These  elements  in  his  character  made  him  a  successful  army  leader 
but  a  poor  politician.  He  never  obtained  a  hold  on  the  party  machine, 
and  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  tried.  In  his  consciousness  of 
superiority,  he  placed  himself  above  the  battle  and  therefore  lost  it- 

When  Lenin  suffered  his  first  stroke  in  May,  1921,  Trotzky  was 
convalescing  in  a  village  just  outside  Moscow.  Lenin  might  have  died* 
Trotzky  was  the  next  ranking  leader  in  Russia.  Yet  for  three  days 
Trotzky  was  not  informed  about  Lenin's  illness.  Trotzky  believed 
that  Stalin,  Zinoviev,  and  Kamenev,  already  intriguing  against  him, 
deliberately  kept  him  in  ignorance,  But  where  were  Trotzky's  secre- 
taries? Did  he  have  no  party  henchmen  who  could  have  rushed  'out 
by  car  to  tell  him  and  bring  him  into  town?  Trotzky  held  his  head 
so  high  above  the  clouds  that  his  feet  never  stood  on  the  solid  ground 
of  party  organization.  He  was  a  Gibraltar  without  a  hinterland,  & 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  77 

lone  lion,  a  dreadnaught  sailing  the  seas  without  escort.  He  was  there- 
fore easily  vulnerable  to  attack.  The  enemy  could  creep  up  on  him 
in  stealth.  Stalin  is  not  nearly  as  good  a  speaker  or  writer  as  Trotzky, 
and  has  much  less  education,  culture,  and  Marxist  training.  But  the 
party  secretaries  were  his  lieutenants.  That  counted  for  more  than  a 
million  striking  phrases. 

When  Lenin  died  in  January,  1924,  Trotzky  had  gone  for  a  cure 
to  the  Caucasus,  then  a  four-day  trip  from  Moscow.  He  did  not 
return  to  the  capital  for  the  funeral.  But  this  was  of  only  minor  im- 
portance. Stalin,  Zinoviev,  and  Kamenev  had  already  prepared  the 
ground  for  their  attack  on  Trotzky's  political  future.  They  con- 
trolled the  pivotal  Central  Committee  and  had  so  out-maneuvered 
Trotzky  that  he  was  the  Opposition.  But  his  was  a  strong  Opposition. 
The  government  offices  were  honeycombed  with  Trotzkyites.  The 
university  students,  who  always  played  an  important  role  in  Russian 
political  life,  staunchly  supported  Trotzky.  A  resolution  of  the  Red 
Army's  Communists,  dated  January  18,  placed  them  behind  Trotzky. 
Factory  meetings  and  provincial  organizations  telegraphed  approval 
of  his  views.  Yet  when  the  regular  National  Conference  of  the  Com- 
munist party  met  in  Moscow  the  fourth  week  of  May,  1924,  Trotzky 
did  not  have  a  single  delegate.  He  himself  failed  of  election  as  a 
delegate. 

In  addition  to  Trotzky,  the  Opposition  had  other  able  leaders. 
This  is  what  the  Stalin-Zinoviev-Kamenev  triumvirate  did  with  them 
before  the  National  Conference  convened: 

V.  V.  Osinsky,  scintillating  Bolshevik  economist,  scion  of  the 
princely  house  of  Obolensky,  was  kept  in  Stockholm  as  Soviet  trade 
representative. 

Sapronov,  a  young  workingman  who  had  forged  his  way  to  the 
front  rank  of  the  party,  was  ordered  to  Vladivostok,  a  ten-day  rail 
trip  from  Moscow. 

Antonov-Avseyenko,  untamable  revolutionary  with  untamable 
hair,  who  had  stormed  the  Petrograd  Winter  Palace  on  November  7, 
1917,  was  dispatched  on  a  mission  to  China. 

Preobrazhensky,  co-author  with  Bukharin  of  the  ABC  of  Commu- 
nism but  now  seeing  Communism  differently  from  Bukharin,  and 
from  Stalin,  received  instructions  to  participate  in  the  Anglo-Russian 
negotiations  in  London. 

Simultaneously,  commissariats,  offices,  and  universities  were  rigor- 
ously combed  of  pro-Trotzky  elements.  In  Trotzky's  absence  and 


78  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

without  his  knowledge,  Skliansky,  his  first  assistant  in  the  War  De- 
partment, was  discharged,  and  Frunze  appointed  in  his  stead.  Frunze 
straightway  attacked  his  new  chief  in  the  press.  General  Muralov, 
loyal  friend  of  Trotzky,  commander  of  the  Moscow  garrison,  found 
himself  in  a  distant  military  post.  Stalin  was  taking  no  chances. 

These  and  similar  shifts  destroyed,  neutralized,  or  terrorized  the 
Trotzkyists.  The  national  party  conference  of  May,  1924,  therefore 
gave  the  triumvirate  leadership  a  unanimous  vote  of  confidence.  But 
Trotzky  was  not  yet  finished  by  any  means.  Stalin,  Zinoviev,  and 
Kamenev  might  hold  the  party  machine,  but  Trotzky  still  had  a 
powerful  appeal  to  the  youth,  the  army,  and  the  rank-and-file  Com- 
munist and  workingman.  The  "Lenin  and  Trotzky"  legend  shielded 
him.  At  the  conference,  Nadezhda  Krupskaya,  Lenin's  widow,  an 
old  party  leader  and  educator,  rose  to  Trotzky's  defense.  Likewise 
Boris  Souvarine,  representative  of  the  French  Communist  party, 
asked  for  the  special  privilege  of  the  floor  and,  speaking  French,  said, 
"To  the  working  class  of  the  world  Trotzky's  name  is  synonymous 
with  the  revolution."  Stalin  knew  this  was  true.  It  was  too  early  to 
take  Trotzky's  scalp. 

Stalin  continued  diligently  to  dig  the  ground  from  under  Trotzky's 
political  feet.  Trotzky  moved  away  and  did  not  even  snipe  back. 
Suddenly  Trotzky  fired  a  broadside  at  his  enemies;  he  published  a 
book.  It  appeared  at  the  end  of  1924  and  the  dust  storm  it  raised  did 
not  subside  for  years.  The  two-volume  work  was  entitled  /^/7>  ic 
reviewed  the  exciting  events  preceding  the  Bolshevik  revolution. 
The  dynamite  was  in  an  introduction  called  "Lessons  of  October." 
(The  Bolshevik  Revolution  occurred  on  October  25,  according  to 
the  old  Gregorian  calendar,  November  7,  Julian  style.)  Trotzky 
recalled  that  Zinoviev  and  Kamenev  opposed  Lenin  and  sought  to 
dissuade  the  Communists  from  seizing  power.  He  cited  Lenin's  de- 
nunciations of  these  "deserters."  If  they,  and  Rykov,  Nogin,  Miliutin, 
and  other  fainthearted  Bolsheviks  had  had  their  way,  Trotzky  empha- 
sized, there  would  have  been  no  Soviet  regime. 

Trotzky  was  not  born  yesterday.  The  major  part  of  his  forty-five 
years  had  been  spent  in  active  politics.  And  he  must  have  known  that 
those  whom  he  assailed  would  strike  back.  He  attacked  with  the  best 
weapon  he  had,  his  pen.  He  was  the  artist  in  politics-  But  their  arsenal 
did  not  lack  ammunition,  either;  it  contained  wire-pulling  devices, 
intrigue,  unscrupulousness,  demagogy*  Hitherto  Stalin,  Zinoviev,  and 
Kamenev  had  condemned  Trotzky  for  trying  to  convert  the  party 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  79 

to  Trotskyism.  But  they  did  not  define  Trotskyism.  They  said  he 
wished  to  organize  his  own  fraction  within  the  party,  and  that  is 
treason  against  the  Communist  code:  the  party  must  be  a  "monolith," 
solid.  But  these  charges  were  vague.  Now  Trotzky  gave  his  enemies 
a  wonderful  opportunity.  For  he  was  pulling  down  the  prestige  of 
two  party  leaders,  and  the  motive  could  be  none  other  than  political, 
a  step  to  the  fulfillment  of  his  own  ambition.  Thousands  of  like- 
worded  resolutions  poured  in  from  Communist  and  non-Communist 
groups  condemning  Trotzky's  "aggression."  He  had  raked  up  old 
sins.  They  would,  too.  Had  he  not  quarreled  with  Lenin  in  those 
hair-splitting,  tempest-in-a-teapot  theoretical  discussions  of  the  pre- 
Revolution  emigration?  Once  he  called  Lenin  "unscrupulous."  Lenin 
had  branded  Trotzky  an  "empty  phrasemonger."  These  squabbles 
were  forgotten  in  1917  and  during  the  subsequent  years  of  intimate 
collaboration.  Now  the  Stalinists  refurbished  them.  Trotzky  had  been 
a  Menshevik— cardinal  sin.  He  had  entered  the  Bolshevik  party  for 
the  first  time  in  1917.  Cautiously,  moreover,  Stalin,  Zinoviev,  and 
Kamenev  commenced  to  minimize  Trotzky's  part  in  the  Revolution 
and  civil  war.  Stalin  once  had  declared  publicly,  "All  the  practical 
work  of  organizing  the  insurrection  was  conducted  by  Trotzky." 
That  did  not  make  it  impossible  to  assert  the  opposite  a  few  years 
later. 

The  anti-Trotzky  barrage  worked  so  successfully  that  in  January, 
1925,  the  triumvirs  put  Frunze  in  Trotzky's  place  as  war  minister. 

Luck  now  played  a  cruel  trick  on  Trotzky.  His  temperature  rose 
and  stayed  abnormally  high  for  months.  He  took  to  his  bed  and  could 
do  no  work.  The  Stalin  leadership  exploited  this  interval.  Still  Stalin 
did  not  dare  to  destroy  Trotzky  completely.  Trotzky's  name  fired 
the  imagination  of  millions.  In  1925,  Trotzky  asked  Bukharin,  who 
was  doing  much  of  Stalin's  thinking  at  this  time,  why  the  party  had 
become  a  lifeless  mechanism.  Bukharin  replied,  "We  are  afraid  of 
you.  That  is  why  there  is  no  democracy  in  the  party." 

Spring,  1925.  Trotzky,  unemployed,  knocked  at  the  Kremlin  gate 
for  a  job.  He  got  three:  chairman  of  the  Chief  Concessions  Com- 
mittee, chairman  of  the  Electro-Technical  Authority,  and  chairman 
of  the  Industrial  Commission  for  Scientific  Research— all  subordinate 
tasks  requiring  meticulous  attention  to  a  million  minor  matters.  Stalin 
wished  to  bury  Trotzky  under  a  mountain  of  detail.  If  Trotzky 
slipped  on  one  detail  it  would  be  magnified  into  a  mountain  and  be 
made  the  subject  of  an  attack  on  him.  Trotzky  nevertheless  wel- 


80  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

corned  his  new  role.  He  hoped  to  wait  till  the  ill  wind  blew  over. 
He  regarded  this  early  phase  of  the  New  Economic  Policy  (NEP) 
as  the  revolutionary  ebb.  His  turn  would  come  with  the  inevitable 
resurgence  of  revolutionary  61an,  he  thought.  He  conceived  of  him- 
self as  cast  for  the  role  of  generalissimo  in  smashing  offensives.  A 
mediocre  major  could  manage  things  in  a  muddy  trench.  .  .  .  This 
was  one  of  Trotzky's  many  political  blunders;  history  kept  Bolshe- 
vism in  the  trench  for  many  long  years. 

Trotzky  wanted  opportunities  offered  to  youth  to  enter  govern- 
ment and  party  service.  He  feared  that  sclerosis  would  harden  the 
arteries  of  the  Soviets  and  conduce  to  conservatism.  He  wanted  the 
lid  lifted  on  criticism  within  the  party  ranks.  He  was  afraid  of  the 
NEP,  He  had  advocated  it  long  before  it  was  enacted.  He  voted  for 
it*  Now  it  alarmed  him.  The  hundred  million  peasants  were  that 
marty  private  capitalists.  The  new  privileges  brought  them  by  the 
NEP  made  them  stronger  economically*  They  would  encroach  on 
the  socialist  city  and  crush  the  Bolshevik  revolution-  All  Bolsheviks, 
Stalinists  as  well  as  Trotzkyists,  were  disturbed  by  this  menace,  and 
Stalin  introduced  the  first  Five  Year  Plan  in  1928,  to  destroy  it*  But 
the  time  factor  and  personal  temperament  were  elements  in  this  con- 
troversy. Trotzky's  culture  and  nerves  made  him  a  westerner.  He 
was  impatient.  While  the  party  leadership  boasted  of  its  economic 
achievements,  Trotzky  complained  of  the  slow  pace  of  progress. 

The  dilemma  was  that  progress  created  problems.  One  of  Russia's 
blights  was  recurrent  famine.  The  Bolsheviks  proposed  to  stamp  it 
out  and  they  began  by  trying  to  restore  the  peasant's  initiative*  But 
if  he  raised  more  he  would  have  more  money  for  the  purchase  of 
manufactured  goods  and  the  government  was  not  yet  producing 
sufficient  industrial  goods*  Of  course,  the  government  could  import 
the  commodities  which  the  peasant  wanted  to  buy.  But  if  everything 
the  peasantry  earned  went  abroad  to  buy  foreign  articles  then  the 
Bolsheviks  could  not  finance  their  own  domestic  industrialization 
program,  and  Russia  would  remain  an  agrarian  country.  It  was  the 
historic  function  of  Bolshevism,  however,  to  industrialize  Russia, 
increase  the  number  of  factory  workers— the  proletariat— thereby 
making  Russia  more  independent  economically  and  less  vulnerable 
to  outside  attack. 

To  the  Trotzkyists  the  peasant,  being  a  private  capitalist,  was  an 
enemy  of  socialism.  In  a  poor,  technically  backward  country  like 
Russia,  they  argued,  with  seventy-five  percent  of  the  population  resid- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  81 

ing  in  villages,  you  could  therefore  never  have  socialism.  At  best,  the 
city  could  become  industrialized  at  the  expense  of  the  peasants,  and 
meanwhile  the  Bolsheviks  could  hope  for  and  foment  revolutions 
abroad.  The  sovietization  of  western  industrialized  Europe  would 
save  Soviet  Russia  from  being  engulfed  by  its  capitalistic  peasant 
masses.  This  was  Trotzky's  theory  of  "Permanent  Revolution."  But 
the  attempt  at  a  revolution  in  Germany  in  1923  failed.  No  other 
major  and  successful  revolution  seemed  to  impend.  This  meant  that 
the  Russian  peasant  would  have  to  be  antagonized  and  milked  indefi- 
nitely. The  Kremlin  could  not  face  such  a  problem  with  equanimity. 
Neither  could  it  solve  the  problem. 

It  tried  hard.  By  the  end  of  1926  most  of  the  old  factories  had  been 
reopened  and  reconditioned.  New  factories  were  being  built.  Work- 
ers' wages  had  mounted  to  ninety-one  percent  of  pre-War  wages. 
The  ruble  was  stable,  and  the  billions  and  trillions  were  gone.  A 
gigantic  Soviet  effort  from  1921  to  1927  had  brought  Russia  back  to 
1913  economic  levels.  But  with  the  slack  taken  up  the  rate  of  advance 
diminished.  The  government  accordingly  curtailed  its  industrializa- 
tion program  because  it  refused  to  squeeze  the  peasant  inordinately. 
This  infuriated  the  Opposition. 

Preobrazhensky,  a  Trotzkyist  economist,  showed  that  in  1925  and 
1926  the  workingman  was  spending  six  percent  of  his  annual  income 
on  vodka  because  he  had  nothing  else  to  spend  it  on.  The  six  percent 
represented  half  of  his  wage  increase.  The  Trotzkyists  insisted  that  to 
cut  the  Gordian  knot  they  had  to  industrialize  with  fierce  rapidity, 
introduce  western  technique,  and  thus  ultimately  produce  an  ade- 
quate supply  of  manufactured  goods  at  lower  prices.  If  this  entailed 
inflation  they  were  reconciled  to  it. 

The,  city  workers  wanted  more  industrialization  because  it  prom- 
ised more  jobs  and  more  goods.  The  peasants  wanted  less  industri- 
alization. But  some  peasants  were  migrating  to  the  cities  because  of 
the  empty  shelves  in  village  stores  and  the  chances  of  work  in  town. 
In  1924,  1,672,000  peasants  moved  to  urban  centers,  in  1925,  2,780,- 
ooo,  and  in '192 6,  3,200,000.  The  government  had  to  employ  them  or 
invite  an  economic  crisis  with  political  implications.  To  employ 
them  it  had  to  industrialize.  To  industrialize  it  had  to  make  the  village 
pay  by  giving  it  less  goods  at  higher  prices.  That  would  induce 
further  migration  from  the  villages  and,  thus,  further  industrializa- 
tion. This  was  the  inevitable  vicious  circle  produced  by  the  NEP. 
The  Stalin  leadership  was  endeavoring  to  break  through  the  circle. 


82  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

At  the  end  of  1925,  a  startling  development  occurred.  Zinoviev 
and  Kamenev  deserted  Stalin  and  joined  Trotzky.  Trotzky  boasted 
that  they  had  been  converted  to  his  political  program.  But  he  him- 
self once  remarked  sarcastically  that  Kamenev  and  Zinoviev  "lacked 
that  little  detail  called  character."  They  turned  their  coats  several 
times,  and  Zinoviev  was  especially  disliked  despite  his  talents.  It  is, 
of  course,  quite  conceivable  that  the  intimate  knowledge  of  Soviet 
affairs  gained  as  members  of  the  ruling  triumvirate  convinced  them 
that  the  government's  policy  was  leading  the  country  into  a  morass. 
But  it  is  also  likely  that  they  suspected  Stalin  of  plotting  to  get  rid 
of  them,  and  hastily  formed  self-protective  alliances  with  Trotzky 
whom  they  had  previously  maligned  and  persecuted.  Trotzky  was 
not  above  grasping  the  proffered  aid. 

Stalinist  spokesmen  admitted  that  capitalism  was  growing  in  city 
and  village,  but  they  argued  that  socialism's  growth  exceeded  that  of 
capitalism*  This  provoked  an  indecisive  battle  of  statistics.  Even  the 
naked  eye,  however,  saw  a  new  class  of  rich  peasants  or  kulaks. 
In  1925,  Bukharin,  the  right-winger,  said  to  the  peasants,  "Enrich 
yourself."  In  the  same  year  a  federal  decree  permitted  the  renting 
of  land.  This  was  a  reactionary  innovation.  Land  had  been  nation- 
alized on  the  first  day  of  the  Revolution.  Nobody  owned  land* 
Nobody  could  buy  or  sell  land.  Now  it  could  be  rented.  The  authori- 
ties submitted  that  they  merely  legalized  an  existing  situation;  poor 
peasants  who  lacked  equipment  or  hands  to  till  their  fields  had  been 
leasing  it  to  wealthier  peasants  under  myriad  guises— fictitious  mar- 
riages, fake  partnerships,  false  co-operatives. 

The  enrichment  of  the  peasantry  really  signified  the  enrichment 
of  one  or  two  small  upper  classes  of  peasants  and  the  impoverishment 
of  the  others.  Class  differentiation  had  overtaken  the  countryside— 
the  Soviet  countryside!  "Is  this  what  we  fought  for?"  Communists 
asked-  The  Soviet  record  from  1921  to  1926  showed  a  series  of  con- 
cessions which  the  farming  population  had  wrung  from  the  unwilling 
Bolsheviks  by  passive  weight  rather  than  by  political  action.  This 
was  ominous. 

What  to  do?  In  the  city  the  government  started  taxing  the  private 
capitalistic  Nepmen  out  of  existence.  The  assessor  would  enter  a 
store  and  demand  3,000  rubles  in  taxes.  The  Nepman  claimed  that 
his  whole  enterprise  was  worth  less  than  that.  *Tm  sorry,"  was  his 
only  comfort.  I  knew  personally  of  several  cases  in  which  the  store- 
keeper simply  walked  out  of  his  premises  and  never  returned.  Co- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  83 

operative  and  state  stores  took  their  place.  The  Nepman  went  "under- 
ground" and  speculated. 

To  crush  capitalist  competition  in  the  village,  kulaks  were  arrested, 
heavily  taxed,  and  dispossessed.  By  so  doing,  the  Soviet  regime  often 
killed  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  eggs.  The  moment  a  peasant 
produced  a  large  surplus  for  city  consumption  he  became  too  pros- 
perous for  the  safety  of  socialism,  and  so  he  was  economically 
decapitated. 

A  good  deal  of  this  went  on  under  the  pressure  of  the  Opposition's 
propaganda.  But  such  negative,  destructive  methods  of  "building 
socialism"  could  not  be  applied  for  a  long  time  without  deleterious 
results  to  the  national  economy  and  without  spreading  disaffection 
among  the  peasantry.  The  peasant  who  was  not  a  kulak  hoped  to 
become  one.  Who  could  blame  a  man  for  wanting  to  earn  more?  But 
when  he  saw  the  fate  that  overtook  the  kulaks  he  lost  his  ambition, 
and  the  state  consequently  lost  crops.  In  1928,  all  cities  were  short 
of  bread. 

Economic  difficulties  in  1926  and  1927  encouraged  the  Trotzkyists 
to  intensify  their  efforts.  At  party  meetings  Opposition  spokesmen 
interjected  remarks  and  attacked  the  Stalin  leadership.  At  a  meeting 
in  the  Moscow  Avtopribor  factory  which  produced  automobile  ac- 
cessories, Radek,  Piatakov,  Sapronov,  and  Zinoviev  spoke— certainly 
important  leaders— and  at  one  in  the  morning  Trotzky  arrived  and 
took  the  floor.  The  work  of  the  Opposition  seemed  so  methodical 
as  to  create  the  impression  of  an  organized  fraction  inside  the  party. 
Communist  psychology  is  hostile  to  fractions. 

On  one  occasion  the  Communist  Central  Committee  discussed  a 
motion  to  exclude  Comrade  Osovsky  from  the  party  for  proposing 
the  legalization  of  a  second  political  party  in  Soviet  Russia.  Trotzky 
and  some  of  his  friends  opposed  Osovsky's  exclusion;  it  was  voted 
by  a  large  majority  nevertheless.  Logically,  the  Opposition's  tactics, 
if  long  tolerated,  would  have  implied  acceptance  into  Soviet  life  of 
a  second  Communist  party— as  the  Republican  party  is  a  second 
capitalist  party  in  the  United  States.  But  that  was  inconceivable 
under  a  dictatorship.  The  Opposition's  obstructions  at  meetings  caused 
considerable  resentment  among  workingmen  and  Communists,  and 
Trotzky  himself  saw  the  necessity  of  beating  a  retreat.  On  October 
1 6,  1926,  the  Opposition  published  a  declaration  promising  to  refrain 
from  fractional  work. 

The  truce  was  short-lived.  Soon  the  Opposition  returned  to  the 


84  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

fray.  This  time  the  battlefield  was  not  within  party  meetings.  The 
Opposition  commenced  calling  its  own  secret  meetings.  Gatherings 
took  place  in  workingmen's  homes  or  in  factory  cellars  and  were 
attended  by  a  few  score  or  a  few  hundred  people.  Trotzky  says  he 
sometimes  addressed  four  such  meetings  a  day.  The  great  orator  who 
had  spoken  to  whole  divisions  of  troops  at  the  front  before  sending 
them  into  the  firing  line  and  whom  I  had  heard  addressing  thousands 
in  big  Moscow  halls,  now  appeared  in  small  apartments  in  the  prole- 
tarian districts.  With  the  bed  pushed  into  one  corner  and  baby's  crib 
piled  on  the  bed,  chairs  and  tables  removed,  sweating  humanity 
packed  tightly  into  dingy  quarters  to  listen  to  Russia's  Demosthenes. 
It  must  have  reminded  him  of  his  youthful  activities  under  the  Czarist 
regime.  Sometimes,  too,  the  Opposition  dared  to  call  large  open 
meetings  which  attracted  thousands. 

The  Opposition  proposed  a  ten-biliion-ruble  forced  loan  from  the 
kulaks,  Nepmen,  and  non-Communist  government  officials.  They 
advocated,  in  addition,  the  seizure  of  two  and  a  half  million  tons  of 
grain  from  prosperous  peasants.  They  advocated  super-industrializa- 
tion* But  they  could  offer  no  constructive  suggestion  as  to  how  to 
do  it  without  driving  the  peasantry,  which  paid,  into  an  anti-Bolshevik 
fury*  Trotzky  correctly  diagnosed.  He  was  a  brilliant  analyst;  that 
made  him  a  great  orator  and  journalist.  But  he  could  not  prescribe, 
His  own  followers  felt  this*  The  country  felt  it,  too. 

Events  abroad  now  exacerbated  the  Stalin-Trotzky  feud  and  has* 
tened  Trotzky's  doom.  In  May,  1926,  the  British  coal  industry  was 
paralyzed  by  a  strike.  The  General  Council  of  the  British  Trade 
Union  Congress  called  a  general  strike  to  help  the  miners.  Moscow's 
heart  skipped  a  beat.  Was  England  marching  to  revolution?  The 
Soviet  Trade  Unions  telegraphed  large  sums  of  gold  for  the  relief 
of  the  striking  miners.  The  general  strike,  however,  aroused  violent 
public  hostility  in  Britain.  Inspired  by  Winston  Churchill,  volunteer 
groups  and  the  authorities  took  stringent  action.  Soon  Ramsay  Mac- 
Donald,  J.  H.  Thomas,  and  other  conservative  figures  in  the  Trade 
Union  movement  called  off  the  general  strike,  and  before  long  the 
miners  had  to  go  back  to  work* 

The  Trotzkyists  tried  to  pin  the  failure  of  the  British  strike  on 
Stalin.  In  1925,  at  the  suggestion  of  Tornsky,  leader  of  the  Soviet 
trade  unions  and  a  right-wing  Bolshevik,  the  Russian  and  British 
trade  unions  had  formed  an  Anglo-Russian  Committee.  This  collab- 
oration, it  was  hoped,  would  check  hostile  moves  by  the  British  gov- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  85 

eminent  against  Soviet  Russia  and  strengthen  the  working-class  move- 
ment in  Europe.  Trotzky  first  approved,  but  then  decided  that  such 
co-operation  with  an  organization  led  by  conservative  labor  leaders 
hampered  the  growth  of  Communism  in  foreign  countries.  He 
wanted  the  Communist  party  in  England  to  go  out  into  the  open  and 
fight  the  MacDonalds  and  Snowdens.  He  had  no  faith  in  united 
fronts.  The  collapse  of  the  British  strike  apparently  proved  him  right. 
Actually,  however,  the  setback  in  England  was  a  setback  for  the 
Trotzky  Opposition  in  Russia;  it  showed  that  the  prospect  of  rev- 
olution in  an  advanced  European  country  was  not  bright,  and  yet 
one  of  the  pillars  of  the  entire  Trotzky  platform  at  home  was  the 
belief  in  revolution  abroad. 

In  1927,  the  Chinese  Revolution  crumpled.  The  Soviet  peoples 
have  always  had  a  keen  sympathy  for  China.  One  school  of  Bolshevik 
thought  assumed  that  "the  infantry  of  the  East,"  the  teeming  hun- 
dreds of  millions  in  Asia,  would  make  the  first  assault  on  the  capital- 
ist rear  after  which  "the  cavalry  of  the  West,"  Europe's  organized 
workers,  would  finish  the  job  by  a  frontal  drive,  Hopes  therefore 
rose  high  when  the  Chinese  Nationalists  under  Dr.  Sun  Yat-sen 
established  a  government  in  the  southern  Chinese  city  of  Canton. 
Dr.  Sun  openly  advocated  intimate  collaboration  with  Moscow.  The 
Soviet  government  sent  a  large  sum  of  money  to  finance  a  military 
training  school  headed  by  General  Chiang  Kai-shek  at  Whampoa, 
Canton.  The  Soviet  government  delegated  Michael  M.  Borodin,  for- 
merly of  Chicago,  as  its  representative  in  southern  China.  Before 
long  he  was  the  real  leader  of  the  Chinese  Revolution.  General  Galen, 
a  Russian  officer  who  became  better  known  later  as  Marshal  Bluecher, 
went  to  China  with  a  military  staff  to  assist  Borodin.  The  Chinese 
Nationalists  won  signal  successes. 

During  this  period,  the  Chinese  Communists,  on  instructions  from 
Moscow,  were  members  of  the  Kuomintang,  the  Chinese  Nationalist 
party  which  included  rich  merchants,  provincial  war  lords,  peasants, 
bankers,  workingmen,  and  coolies.  Stalin  told  the  Communist  Inter- 
national on  November  30,  1926,  that  "the  exit  of  Chinese  Commu- 
nists from  the  Kuomintang  would  be  the  gravest  error."  He  likewise 
questioned  the  wisdom  of  organizing  Soviets  in  China  in  opposition 
to  the  Kuomintang  government.  The  Trotzkyists  advocated  both 
these  measures. 

Foreign  Commissar  Chicherin  later  told  me  of  a  debate  on  China  in 
the  Politbureau  which  he  attended.  JRadek  predicted  that  Chiang  Kai- 


86  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

shek  would  betray  the  Revolution.  Stalin  vehemently  disagreed.  The 
next  day  news  came  from  China  that  Chiang  was  executing  the  Com- 
munists and  left  Kuomintangists.  "That  is  why,"  Chicherin  said  to 
me,  "Stalin  then  took  the  Trotzkyist  line  in  China."  Chicherin  asked 
me  not  to  publish  this  until  he  died. 

The  Stalin  leadership  thereupon  adopted  the  policy  of  fostering 
peasant  Soviets  in  China.  The  Trotzkyists  crowed  in  triumph.  Stalin 
countered  that  when  the  Opposition  wanted  Soviets  it  was  too  early. 
Radek,  the  Opposition's  China  expert,  said:  But  you  wanted  them 
too  late,  when  reaction  was  in  flood  throughout  China.  When  the 
Trotzkyists  proposed  forming  Chinese  Soviets,  the  Communists  and 
left-wingers  still  had  influence  and  arms.  Now  they  had  lost  them. 

The  Bolshevik  majority  probably  miscalculated  the  tempo  of  Chi- 
nese events  and  stuck  too  long  to  Chiang  Kai-shek.  But  I  doubt 
whether  the  Chinese  Revolution  could  have  been  saved  by  Trotzky, 
The  counter-revolutionary  forces  in  China,  foreign  and  domestic, 
were  stronger  than  the  Revolution.  The  Trotzkyists  could  try  to 
convince  Russia  that  they  had  been  right  and  Stalin  wrong.  But 
politics  is  not  a  matter  of  having  the  correct  answer.  The  crushing 
of  the  Chinese  Revolution  was  a  fact,  and  it  diminished  Trotzky's 
prospects  in  the  Soviet  Union  for,  one  after  the  other,  the  hopes  of 
world  revolution  were  fading.  In  Russia  there  was  economic  stabil- 
ity if  not  prosperity,  and  progress  despite  poverty.  Moreover,  unity 
is  a  Communist  fetish  and  Trotzky  threatened  to  split  the  party. 
Many  followers  of  Trotzky  left  the  Opposition  because  they  dis- 
approved of  its  methods  even  when  they  accepted  its  ideas.  They 
objected  to  its  secret  printing  press,  its  clandestinely  distributed  pam- 
phlets and  street  demonstrations. 

Nevertheless,  Trotzky  resisted  political  death.  The  stars  of  the  Bol- 
shevik firmament— Trotzky,  Kamenev,  Rakovsky,  Zinoviev,  Radek, 
Osinsky,  Alexandra  Kollontai,  Muralov,  Smilga,  Preobrazhensky— 
were  still  in  the  Opposition.  Krupskaya,  Lenin's  widow,  did  not 
stand  with  either  side.  But  she  knew  Lenin's  last  testament.  It  was  a 
political  document.  (He  had  had  no  property  to  give  away*)  He  put 
it  in  her  safekeeping  in  December,  1921.  In  it  he  wrote,  "Comrade 
Stalin,  having  become  general  secretary  of  the  party,  has  concen- 
trated tremendous  power  in  his  hands,  and  I  am  not  sure  he  always 
knows  how  to  use  that  power  with  sufficient  caution/*  On  January  4, 
1923,  Lenin  asked  Krupskaya  for  the  testament  and  added  this  strik- 
ing postscript,  "Stalin  is  too  rude.  ...  I  propose  to  the  comrades  to 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  87 

find  a  way  of  removing  Stalin.  .  .  .  This  circumstance  may  seem  an 
insignificant  trifle.  But  I  think  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  pre- 
venting a  split  in  the  party,  and  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  rela- 
tions between  Stalin  and  Trotzky  ...  it  is  not  a  trifle,  or  it  is  a 
trifle  that  may  acquire  decisive  significance."  Lenin  foresaw  the 
great  contest.  His  testament  is  to  this  day  unpublished  in  the  Soviet 
Union.  Krupskaya  read  it  twice  to  meetings  of  the  Central  Com- 
mittee. Once  Stalin  himself  had  to  read  it  aloud  at  a  secret  session. 
It  has  been  carried  by  word  of  mouth— but  not  very  far,  strangely 
enough.  Few  Russians  of  my  acquaintance  ever  heard  of  Lenin's  will. 

The  Trotzkyists  were  a  large  group  of  generals  leading  a  small 
army.  Yet  they  were  difficult  to  vanquish.  Stalin  required  another 
weapon  before  he  could  administer  the  final  blow.  He  found  it  in 
the  foreign  situation.  The  relations  between  the  Soviet  and  non- 
Soviet  worlds  were  marked  by  mutual  suspicion  and  hatred.  But 
Russia  was  weak  and  needed  outside  aid  and  a  respite  from  hostility 
and  therefore  sought  to  get  along  with  the  other  governments.  As 
early  as  1925  I  had  been  able  to  report  that  the  Communists  were 
"ready  to  scrap  political  principles  for  practical  prizes."  The  great 
powers,  on  the  other  hand,  failed  to  realize  that  Europe  could  never 
settle  down  until  it  settled  with  Moscow.  Direct  anti-Soviet  mili- 
tary intervention  was  now  out  of  the  question.  Mussolini,  striving  to 
be  first,  recognized  the  Soviet  government  in  1923;  Ramsay  Mac- 
Donald  followed  suit  in  February,  1924;  France  exchanged  ambassa- 
dors with  Red  Moscow  in  October,  1924;  the  Soviets  scrapped  an  oil 
concession  they  had  granted  Harry  F.  Sinclair  in  Northern  Sakhalin 
and  gave  it  to  Japan,  thus  paying  for  Tokio's  recognition  in  January, 
1925.  Nevertheless,  the  Soviet  regime  continued  to  be  the  object  of 
financial  embargoes,  trade  boycotts,  social  hostility,  and  diplomatic 
frigidity  on  the  part  of  bourgeois  nations. 

The  great  powers  explained  their  uncompromising  attitude  to- 
ward Soviet  Russia  by  the  Kremlin's  refusal  to  pay  debts.  But  they 
themselves  did  not  shine  by  example  in  this  matter.  Moreover,  when 
they  subsequently  needed  Russian  support  they  forgot  the  debts. 
They  explained  it,  further,  by  Communist  propaganda  and  the  ex- 
istence of  a  Bolshevik  menace  to  the  capitalist  countries.  Why  should 
they  build  up  a  real  or  potential  enemy?  Communist  propaganda 
has  undoubtedly  been  a  serious  irritant,  and  the  British  were  espe- 
cially annoyed  by  Moscow's  role  in  China  and  in  the  coal  and  gen- 
eral strikes.  Governments  must  of  course  take  steps  to  counteract 


88  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

influences  they  think  harmful.  But  statesmen  who  wished  to  pacify 
a  continent,  prevent  another  war,  and  salvage  world  economy  should 
have  seen  the  larger  aspects  of  Soviet  Russia's  role  in  world  affairs. 
Neither  Communism  nor  the  Soviet  government  has  ever  been  a 
serious  threat  to  the  British  Empire  or  Great  Britain,  or  to  British 
capitalism.  Czarism  was  a  much  greater  threat  to  India,  yet  England 
and  the  Czar  became  war  allies.  If  anything,  the  Communists  made 
British  labor  more  anti-Communist.  The  same  applies  to  other  bour- 
geois nations.  Viewed  in  the  perspective  of  history,  and  forgetting 
Moscow's  stupid  day-to-day  sniping  at  other  world  powers,  the 
non-Soviet  nations  have  committed  innumerable  blunders  in  their 
relations  with  Soviet  Russia.  They  were  blunders  because  while  they 
hurt  Russia  they  hurt  the  blunderers  no  less. 

On  May  24,  1927,  the  British  government  severed  diplomatic 
relations  with  Russia.  The  ground  was  propaganda.  The  move  got 
the  British  nowhere.  They  subsequently  were  forced  to  resume 
these  relations.  Lord  Balfour  said  that  a  break  with  Russia  "carries 
with  it  obvious  dangers.  Does  it  carry  with  it  obvious  advantages? 
...  I  fail  to  see  them."  Prime  Minister  Baldwin  and  Foreign  Min- 
ister Sir  Austen  Chamberlain  (half-brother  of  Neville  Chamberlain), 
in  a  solemn  matter  that  concerned  not  only  England  and  Russia  but 
the  peace  of  hemispheres  and  the  lives  of  millions,  frivolously  vented 
their  emotional  animosity  towards  Bolshevism  and  overlooked  the 
practical  considerations*  The  British  initiative  soon  spoiled  Franco- 
Soviet  relations,  too. 

I  arrived  in  Moscow  from  a  trip  abroad  in  June,  1927.  On  all  sides 
Soviet  acquaintances  plied  me  with  questions:  "When  will  the  war 
break  out?"  "Will  they  attack  us  through  Poland  or  where?"  I  said, 
"You're  crazy,"  to  intimate  friends  and  argued  with  but  did  not 
convince  high  Soviet  officials.  Moscow  was  panicky.  The  peasants 
bought  salt*  From  time  immemorial  they  have  done  this  when  they 
fear  war.  Villages  held  back  their  grain.  The  cities  felt  the  shortage. 
Yet  all  this  commotion  was  artificially  created  by  the  Stalinists  to 
crush  Trotzky.  When  I  spent  eight  days  with  Foreign  Commissar 
Chicherin  in  Wiesbaden,  Germany,  in  1929,  he  said  to  me,  "I  re- 
turned to  Moscow  from  western  Europe  in  June,  1927.  Everybody 
was  talking  war.  I  tried  to  dissuade  them,  'Nobody  is  planning  to 
attack  us/  I  insisted.  But  then  a  colleague  enlightened  me*  He  said, 
*Sh!  We  know.  But  we  need  this  against  Trotzky/  " 

Later  too  Maxim  Litvinov  told  me  he  did  not  think  the  British 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  89 

government  was  attempting  to  organize  a  war  against  Russia  in 
1927.  "That  was  merely  idle  gossip  here  of  some  people  and  the 
press."  He  continued,  "It  is  wrong  to  suppose,  as  many  of  us  do, 
that  Russia  is  the  center  of  all  international  affairs.  England  broke 
with  us  because  she  hoped  that  others  would  follow  her  example 
and  that  as  a  result  the  Soviet  government  would  become  more 
amenable  to  British  pressure."  But  Stalinist  propaganda  created 
the  impression  that  war  was  coming  tomorrow.  Having  done  so, 
the  party  leadership  demanded  of  the  Trotzky  Opposition  what  it 
would  do  in  case  of  war.  Would  it  continue  its  assaults  on  the  party 
while  the  capitalists  fought  the  fatherland? 

How  did  Trotzky  answer?  I  will  not  relent;  I  will  be  like  Clemen- 
ceau,  Trotzky  said.  When  the  Germans  were  marching  on  Paris  in 
1917,  he  explained,  Clemenceau  assailed  the  French  cabinet  for  its 
ineptitude,  and  ultimately  brought  about  its  fall.  He  then  led  France 
to  victory.  Trotzky  promised  to  do  the  same.  He  would  defend 
the  Soviet  Union  under  the  present  Stalin  leadership  if  the  enemy 
attacked.  But  he  would  at  the  same  time  attack  Stalin.  The  party 
leadership  used  this  admission  to  sow  further  prejudice  against 
Trotzky. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  with  a  number  of  other  Americans,  I  spent 
six  and  a  quarter  hours  with  Joseph  Stalin.  Professor  Jerome  Davis 
of  the  Divinity  School  of  Yale  University  conducted  a  group  of 
Americans  to  and  through  the  Soviet  Union  in  the  summer  of  1927. 
The  Russians  called  it  "the  American  Labor  Delegation,"  but  most 
of  its  members,  I  believe,  represented  nobody  but  themselves,  and 
only  John  Brophy  of  the  Miners'  Federation  and  James  Maurer  of 
Pennsylvania  were  labor  leaders.  The  group  included  Stuart  Chase, 
Paul  HL  Douglas,  economist,  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  Robert  Dunn, 
radical  labor  research  student,  and  I.  Israels,  New  York  lawyer. 
When  they  went  for  their  interview  with  Stalin  on  September  9, 
1927,  they  invited  Anne  O'Hare  McCormick  and  me  to  go  along. 
We  saw  Stalin  not  in  the  Kremlin  but  just  outside  it  in  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Central  Committee  within  Moscow's  old  Chinese 
wall. 

We  entered  Stalin's  large  reception  room  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  We  sat  with  Stalin  until  seven-fifteen  in  the  evening. 
During  all  this  time  Stalin  never  once  left  the  room.  He  never  once 
sent  out  a  message  or  received  a  message.  There  was  no  telephone 


90  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

in  the  room.  Here  was  the  man  at  the  helm  of  Soviet  Russia.  All 
threads  ended  in  his  hand.  Yet  he  had  deliberately  cut  himself  off 
from  everything  and  everybody  for  almost  an  entire  working  day. 
He  had  so  organized  his  work  that  he  could  devote  himself  exclu- 
sively to  his  visitors.  This  concentration  is  characteristic  of  Stalin. 

Twice  during  our  prolonged  stay,  on  instructions  previously  is- 
sued, a  typical  Russian  working  woman  brought  in  cheese,  sausage, 
and  caviar  sandwiches  and  a  large  steaming  samovar—the  word  means 
"self-cooker"— with  tumblers  for  tea  with  lemon.  This  woman  was 
the  only  person  to  enter  the  room. 

When  we  arrived  Stalin  gave  each  of  us  a  sharp,  energetic  hand- 
shake and  invited  us  to  occupy  chairs  around  a  long  table  covered 
with  green  felt  cloth.  He  wore  high  black  leather  boots,  and  a 
civilian  khaki  suit  the  trousers  of  which  were  stuffed  into  his  boots 
below  the  knee.  His  body  is  solid  but  not  fat  and  he  moves  quickly 
and  softly.  If  I  had  seen  him  without  knowing  who  he  was,  he 
would  never  have  impressed  me.  He  looked  like  any  one  of  a  mil- 
lion Soviet  workingmen. 

Stalin  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table.  I  sat  first  on  his  left  making 
bad  pencil  sketches  of  his  head  and  keeping  notes  which  I  now 
have  before  me.  My  notes  read,  "Deep  pock  marks  over  his  face," 
"crafty  eyes,"  "low  forehead,"  "thick  bushy  black  hair,"  "ugly, 
short,  black  and  gold  teeth  when  smiles."  He  smiled  little.  He  was 
busy.  But  at  conferences  and  public  meetings,  during  periods  of 
relaxation,  I  had  seen  him  laugh  uproariously. 

Trotzky  waves  the  magic  wand  of  a  magnetic  personality  and 
captures  his  interlocutor.  Stalin  does  not.  But  as  he  talked  to  us 
hour  after  hour  my  respect  for  his  strength,  will,  and  faith  grew* 
He  built  up  this  impression  as  he  built  up  his  political  position- 
slowly,  methodically,  brick  by  brick.  Nothing  Stalin  said  through- 
out the  interview  was  brilliant.  He  was  pedestrian,  solid  and  simple. 
His  statements  interested  professors  of  economy  and  would  have 
been  intelligible  to  factory  hands.  The  questions  had  been  sub- 
mitted to  him  in  advance,  and  he  probably  prepared  the  answers  in 
advance.  Sometimes  he  did  not  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  question, 
and  rambled  before  he  reached  its  pith,  but  finally  he  did  get  to 
the  point.  His  replies  were  always  long  and  thorough.  His  men- 
tality lacked  the  witty  epigram  or  the  remark  with  insight  which 
can  light  up  a  whole  field  of  thought.  He  plowed  long  and  deep* 
His  complete  composure,  the  complete  absence  of  nerves,  and  his 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  91 

calm  voice  reflected  inner  power.  One  could  see  that  he  might  be 
a  man  of  iron. 

The  questions  posed  to  Stalin  dealt  with  theoretical  Marxism, 
Leninism,  and  imperialism.  He  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  drawn 
into  a  discussion  of  his  differences  with  Trotzky.  That  was  not  a 
subject  for  a  Communist  leader  to  discuss  with  non-Communists. 
He  did  say  this:  Lenin  "proved  that  it  was  possible  to  construct 
a  complete  socialist  society  in  a  land  of  the  dictatorship  of  the  pro- 
letariat encircled  by  imperialist  states."  I  do  not  know  where  or 
how  Lenin  proved  that  socialism  could  be  established  in  one  coun- 
try. It  was  the  bone  of  contention  between  Trotzky  and  Stalin. 
Trotzky's  view  was  diametrically  opposed  to  Stalin's.  Both  Trotzky 
and  Stalin  cited  Lenin  in  support  of  their  conjectures,  but  I  do  not 
think  that  a  case  is  won  if  it  can  lean  on  a  quotation  from  Lenin 
or  an  interpretation  of  a  quotation  from  Lenin.  To  date,  socialism 
has  not  been  established  in  the  Soviet  Union.  That  may  or  may 
not  mean  that  it  cannot  be. 

More  questions  to  Stalin.  Is  there  personal  incentive  in  Russia? 
Does  the  American  Communist  party  get  its  orders  and  money  from 
Moscow?  He  said  it  might  under  certain  circumstances.  Must  a 
Communist  be  an  atheist?  While  he  was  answering  this  question 
the  chiming  of  bells  in  a  church  across  the  street  drowned  out  his 
voice.  He  smiled  and  we  laughed.  (In  later  years,  church  bells  were 
silenced  by  decree.)  Yes,  a  Communist  must  be  an  atheist. 

These  questions  and  more  questions  were  put  to  Stalin.  After 
three  hours  one  could  see  delegates  sitting  on  the  edges  of  their 
chairs,  and  Jerome  Davis  was  getting  ready  to  say  something  like, 
"Thank  you,  Mr.  Stalin,  for  your  kindness  in  granting  us  so  much 
of  your  time,"  but  Stalin  never  gave  him  a  chance.  Finally,  at 
the  end  of  four  hours,  Davis  did  deliver  his  speech.  But  Stalin 
said,  "No,  no.  I  have  answered  your  questions.  Now  you  must 
answer  mine."  And  for  two  and  a  quarter  hours  he  asked  ques- 
tions and  the  Americans  answered.  He  inquired  why  so  few  Amer- 
ican workers  belonged  to  trade  unions,  whether  unemployment  in- 
surance existed  in  America  as  in  Russia,  why  there  was  no  labor 
party  in  the  United  States,  and  why  the  American  government  had 
not  yet  recognized  Soviet  Russia.  That  was  all.  He  gave  each  one 
a  second  bone-crushing  handshake  and  we  left.  I  felt  that  Stalin 
was  typical  of  many  Bolsheviks— unsentimental,  steel-willed,  unscru- 
pulous, and  irresistible. 


92  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

A  few  weeks  after  this  interview  Stalin  started  Trotzky  on  the  trek 
which  ended  near  Mexico  City.  Trotzky  knew  that  his  defiance  of 
party  discipline  could  not  continue  much  longer  with  impunity. 
He  had  to  win  or  succumb.  On  November  7,  1927,  ten  years  from 
the  day  he,  with  Lenin,  and  others  had  made  the  Revolution,  he 
made  another  bid  for  power,  this  time  not  against  a  bourgeois  regime 
but  against  the  Stalin  regime.  There  were  rumors  on  the  eve  of  the 
anniversary  that  the  army,  massed  in  the  Red  Square  in  front  of 
the  Lenin  mausoleum  for  the  annual  parade,  would  demonstrate 
against  Stalin.  Some  courageous  soldier  or  officer  would  cry  out 
"Down  with  Stalin,"  and  others  would  echo  the  slogan.  Nothing 
happened.  But  the  mood  that  day  was  tense.  The  Chinese  students 
of  Moscow's  Sun  Yat-sen  University,  participating  in  the  march, 
formed  a  long,  sinuous  dragon.  In  the  middle  of  the  square  they 
threw  Trotzkyist  proclamations  in  the  air.  The  GPU  arrested  some 
of  the  Chinese.  In  the  afternoon,  pictures  of  Trotzky  were  torn 
down  from  buildings.  At  one  place  near  the  center  of  town,  early 
in  the  afternoon,  Trotzky  himself  came  out  on  a  balcony  and  com- 
menced to  address  the  civilian  parade  of  workingmen  as  it  moved 
towards  the  Red  Square.  Russians  climbed  up  and  stopped  him* 
Later  I  saw  Trotzky  and  Kamenev  slowly  driving  down  the  Tver- 
skaya  Street  toward  Strasnaya  Square  in  a  big  black  limousine.  What 
were  they  thinking?  They  had  failed  to  rouse  the  population;  the 
match  had  not  met  any  fuel.  Their  doom  was  near. 

Several  days  later  the  Communist  party  expelled  Trotzky  from 
its  ranks.  For  a  Communist,  membership  in  the  party  is  everything, 
It  is  his  ticket  to  work,  political  activity,  and  happiness.  Outside  it 
he  exists  only  as  a  shadow.  A  cardinal  ex-communicated  by  the 
church,  a  king  forced  into  abdication  and  exile—these  mildly  sug- 
gest the  tragedy  of  a  Trotzky  deprived  of  his  red  membership  card 
in  the  Communist  party. 

That  very  day  I  received  a  telephone  summons  to  visit  Adolf  A. 
Joffe,  the  Soviet  diplomat,  former  Ambassador  to  Germany  and 
China,  negotiator  of  the  Soviet  peace  with  Poland  and  of  numerous 
treaties,  among  them  the  Rapallo  Pact,  long  an  intimate  friend  and 
warm  admirer  of  Trotzky.  Joffe  was  in  bed,  very  ill.  He  had  been 
suffering  for  many  months.  He  looked  like  a  Jewish  rabbi,  with 
very  high  brow,  thin  black  hair  and  beard,  delicate  thick  fingers, 
pale  face,  and  sad,  sad  eyes.  He  almost  frightened  me-  I  could  not 
imagine  why  he  had  asked  me  to  come.  I  had  never  met  him  before. 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  ,  93 

Apparently  he  had  read  my  Oil  Imperialism  which  dealt  with  his 
work  as  chairman  of  the  Chief  Concessions  Committee,  and  we  had 
an  intimate  mutual  friend  who  must  have  talked  to  him  about  me. 
He  asked  me  about  conditions  in  Europe  and  America.  Did  I  think 
a  revolution  possible  in  Germany? 

I  said,  "No."  Germany  had  regained  her  social  equilibrium. 

China?  I  was  pessimistic  there,  too. 

But  England  had  had  the  General  Strike,  he  argued.  The  workers 
were  displeased  with  their  reactionary  leaders.  I  replied  that  I  had 
sensed  little  revolutionary  sentiment  in  England.  He  rested  often 
during  this  conversation  and  appeared  to  be  in  constant  pain.  He 
would  stop  and  swallow  hard,  or  prop  himself  up  on  one  elbow 
and  pour  himself  medicine  from  one  of  a  dozen  bottles  which  stood 
on  his  little  night  table.  He  inquired  about  American  conditions,  I 
spoke  of  stenographers  wearing  silk  stockings  and  playing  the  stock 
market. 

It  was  then  that  Joffe  showed  me  papers  relating  to  his  personal 
activities  while  Ambassador  to  Germany  in  1918,  which  I  have  al- 
ready described.  He  had  fostered  and  financed  revolution  there,  the 
papers  proved.  "Would  not  the  possibilities  of  revolution  be  en- 
hanced," he  suggested,  "if  certain  forces  did  more  to  encourage  the 
European  proletariat?"  This  was  the  nearest  he  came  to  a  direct 
criticism  of  Stalin.  I  said  I  could  not  of  course  guess  what  might 
happen  in  different  circumstances  but  I  had  not  observed  any  mount- 
ing tide  of  revolution  anywhere.  We  talked  on  this  subject  for  a 
while.  Pain  obviously  tortured  him.  I  went  home. 

Five  days  later  Joffe  committed  suicide.  He  left  a  letter  addressed 
to  Trotzky.  Joffe  killed  himself  because  he  was  very  sick.  But  he 
was  also  sick  at  heart.  Too  sick  to  help  the  Revolution  with  his  life, 
he  wished  to  aid  it  with  his  death.  He  wished  to  arouse  anger  against 
the  Stalin  leadership.  If  he  had  seen  any  prospect  of  revolution 
abroad  he  might  have  been  reconciled  to  a  prolongation  of  his 
physical  agony.  But  he  knew  just  as  well  as  I  did  that  the  chances 
of  world  revolution  were  slim. 

Joffe's  body  was  laid  out  in  the  conference  chamber  of  the  Com- 
missariat of  Foreign  Affairs.  Chicherin,  Litvinov,  and  Karakhan,  as 
chiefs  of  the  commissariat,  stood  near  the  door  to  greet  mourners. 
Trotzky,  Kamenev,  and  Radek,  walking  abreast,  passed  Chicherin, 
Litvinov,  and  Karakhan  and  completely  ignored  them.  Such  was 
the  bitterness. 


94  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  funeral  took  place  at  a  cemetery  near  Moscow.  Thousands 
of  Trotzky  sympathizers  attended  without  interference  from  the 
police.  Very  soon  any  such  demonstration  would  become  unthink- 
able. Trotzky,  Zinoviev,  Kamenev,  and  others  spoke.  All  the  while 
a  dear  friend  of  mine,  George  Andreichin,  Macedonian  peasant 
turned  Bolshevik,  lay  on  a  limb  of  a  tree  just  above  the  open  grave 
yelling  at  intervals:  "Long  Live  Trotzky,'*  "Long  Live  the  World 
Revolution,"  "Down  with  the  party  bureaucrats,"  "Up  the 
youth.  .  .  ." 

The  ceremonies  finished,  everybody  crowded  towards  Trotzky 
to  give  him  an  ovation.  Appeals  were  made  to  the  people  to  go 
home.  They  stayed,  and  Trotzky  for  a  long  time  could  not  get  out 
of  the  cemetery.  Finally  young  men  linked  elbows  and  formed  two 
human  chains  facing  one  another  with  a  narrow  corridor  in  between 
through  which  Trotzky  could  pass  to  the  exit.  While  this  opera- 
tion was  proceeding  Trotzky  waited  alone  in  a  kind  of  wide  brick 
shed  opening  on  the  cemetery.  But  he  never  stood  still.  He  walked 
like  a  pacing  tiger,  zigzagging  all  the  time.  I  was  near  by  and  had 
the  definite  impression  that  he  feared  assassination.  When  the  chains 
were  finally  formed  the  crowd  surged  in  the  direction  of  the  corri- 
dor. Trotzky  thereupon  rushed  in  the  opposite  direction  through 
an  almost  empty  part  of  the  cemetery  and  jumped  into  a  waiting 
auto.  That  was  the  last  time  I  saw  Trotzky. 

On  January  id,  1928,  the  foreign  correspondents  went  to  the 
railway  station.  Trotzky  was  leaving  for  his  Central  Asia  exile.  A 
tremendous  mob  filled  the  station  for  a  sympathetic  send-off.  Ra- 
kovsky  was  there*  Trotzkyists  climbed  on  to  the  train  and  led  the 
cheering.  But  why  doesn't  the  train  leave?  It  is  long  past  its  sched- 
uled departure.  The  assembled  multitude  calls  for  Trotzky  to  ap- 
pear. No  Trotzky.  Finally  the  train  leaves.  We  went  home  disap- 
pointed. Days  later  we  discovered  that  the  GPU,  seeing  the  demon- 
stration, the  last  of  its  kind  in  Soviet  Russia,  canceled  Trotzky*s 
departure.  He  left  the  next  day  in  secret.  Trotzky  refused  to  walk. 
GPU  men  carried  him  down  the  stairs  from  his  apartment  into  the 
car,  and  from  the  auto  into  the  sleeper. 

A  political  gulf  separated  Stalin  and  Trotzky.  But  the  personal 
rivalry  between  them  cannot  be  overlooked.  Even  when  two  per- 
sons are  ready  to  give  their  lives  for  the  same  cause  or  spend  their 
energies  for  the  same  organization  they  may  hamper  one  another's 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  95 

work  or  destroy  one  another  out  of  petty  considerations.  Lenin's 
authority  might  have  kept  Stalin  and  Trotzky  at  peace. 

Emphasis  has  often  been  placed  and  misplaced  on  the  theoretical 
chasm  between  Stalin's  position  and  Trotzky's.  In  many  cases, 
however,  the  cleavage  was  a  question  of  speed  and  timing.  Both 
Trotzky  and  Stalin  wanted  Soviets  in  China,  Trotzky  earlier,  Stalin 
later.  A  few  months,  to  be  sure,  may  make  all  the  difference  between 
success  and  failure.  But  if  Trotzky  and  Stalin  had  not  been  political 
enemies  moving  at  cross-purposes  they  might  have  arrived  at  a  com- 
promise on  the  China  issue. 

Trotzky  advocated  suppression  of  the  rich  peasant  kulak  in  1926. 
Stalin  suppressed  the  kulak  after  he  had  suppressed  Trotzky  in 
1928.  Stalin's  Five  Year  Plan  in  1929  provoked  little  adverse  criti- 
cism from  Trotzky.  The  honest  Trotzkyist,  Christian  G.  Rakovsky, 
went  into  exile  for  his  anti-Stalin  opinions  in  1928  and  sincerely 
repented  and  backed  Stalin's  program  in  1934.  Trotzky's  violent 
words  and  Stalin's  violent  acts  made  reconciliation  between  their 
followers  difficult. 

At  one  period,  Stalin's  Moscow  headquarters  branded  all  foreign 
Socialists  as  "social  fascists."  A  little  while  later  these  same  "social 
fascists"  were  eagerly  sought  by  the  Communists  as  allies.  Another 
year  elapsed  and  those  allies  in  the  Popular  Front  were  spattered 
with  Moscow's  blackest  mud.  Trotzky,  too,  objected  to  compacts 
with  non-Bolsheviks.  Once  he  had  favored  them.  Once  Lenin  had 
favored  them.  Lenin  supported  Kerensky  against  the  armed  revolt 
of  General  Kornilov,  choosing  the  smaller  of  two  evils.  On  the  eve 
of  the  Revolution,  Lenin  urged  a  compromise  with  anti-Soviet  Rus- 
sians. What  then  is  the  "correct"  Communist  line  on  the  question 
of  Popular  Fronts?  There  were  similar  shifts  in  the  Bolshevik  atti- 
tude Coward  many  other  questions,  shifts  due  to  time  or  greater 
intelligence  or  more  experience  or  changes  in  the  world  situation. 

It  is  possible,  therefore,  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  theory  and 
policy  in  the  struggle  between  Stalin  and  Trotzky.  Lenin  refused 
to  recommend  Stalin  for  the  Bolshevik  leadership  not  because  he 
disapproved  of  Stalin's  ideas  on  economics  and  social  philosophy  but 
because  of  Stalin's  rudeness  and  power-hunger.  Stalin  and  Trotzky 
were  much  closer  politically  than  Stalin  and  Bukharin  or  Stalin 
and  Rykov.  Yet  Stalin  could  work  with  Bukharin  arid  Rykov. 

The  Trotzky-Stalin  controversy  crippled  the  Bolshevik  Revolu- 
tion. Trotzky  often  stirred  the  Communists  to  a  realization  of  threat- 


96  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

ening  dangers.  That  was  his  service  to  the  Soviet  Union.  But  under 
his  assaults  the  Stalinists  developed  an  unfortunate  defense;  since 
Trotzky  charged  that  Stalin  was  always  wrong  the  Stalinists  in- 
sisted that  Stalin  was  always  right.  Trotzky  said  Stalin  was  inferior 
and  mediocre.  The  Stalinists  replied  that  Stalin  was  a  superior  genius. 
Out  of  this  arose  the  doctrine  of  Stalin's  infallibility.  Stalin  at  the 
summit  seemed  to  become  another  person;  instead  of  shrinking  from 
the  limelight  as  he  had  in  the  early  phase  of  his  career,  he  was  for- 
ever seeking  it.  These  new  psychological  manifestations  in  Stalin 
have  affected  history,  and  Russia  is  a  sadder  place  as  a  result. 

As  soon  as  Trotzky  was  banished  from  Moscow  a  new  align- 
ment of  Soviet  political  forces  began  to  crystallize.  Stalin  had  occu- 
pied a  central  position  between  Trotzky  and  the  more  conservative 
leaders  like  Rykov,  Bukharin,  Sokolnikov,  and  Tomsky.  While 
Stalin  fought  Trotzky,  the  Right  applauded  Stalin.  He  helped  to 
thwart  radical  anti-NEP  and  anti-kulak  tendencies.  Stalin  appre- 
ciated their  assistance  against  Trotzky.  But  with  the  elimination  of 
Trotzky,  Stalin  was  furthest  Left.  Now  he  proceeded  to  tax  and 
arrest  kulaks  and  private  Nepmen.  A  strong  right-wing  opposition 
to  Stalin  emerged.  Yet  this  right-wing  tried  to  form  a  coalition  with 
Zinoviev  and  Kamenev,  who  had  first  been  centrist  friends  of  Stalin 
and  then  leftist  friends  of  Trotzky. 

At  9  A.M.  on  July  11,  1928,  Gregory  Sokolnikov  rang  the  bell 
of  Kamenev's  Moscow  apartment  without  previous  appointment  ana 
asked  to  see  him.  He  remained  an  hour  and  while  he  was  still  clos- 
eted with  Kamenev,  Bukharin  arrived,  likewise  unheralded.  When 
both  departed,  Kamenev  wrote  out  a  detailed  memorandum  on  these 
conversations.  Several  of  his  friends  were  later  allowed  to  make  copies 
of  this  report,  and  within  very  few  days  one  copy  reached*Srne*  I 
took  full  notes  which  I  still  have. 

This  meeting  draws  aside  the  curtain  to  reveal  an  intimate  view 
of  the  higher  realms  of  Soviet  internal  politics.  Sokolnikov  called 
early  in  the  morning  in  the  hope  of  evading  the  watchfulness  of 
the  GPU,  Bukharin  had  not  telephoned  because  he  did  not  want  to 
be  detected  by  wiretappers  of  the  secret  police.  The  understanding 
between  Sokolnilcov  and  Bukharin  was  that  if  Sokolnikov  did  not 
return  to  Bukharin  within  an  hour  Bukharin  would  join  them  at 
Kamenev's. 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  97 

Sokolnikov,  in  his  preliminary  tete-2t-tete  with  Kamenev,  stated 
that  Bukharin  had  definitely  broken  with  Stalin.  Bukharin  preferred 
Kamenev  and  Zinoviev  to  Stalin.  Sokolnikov  said  this  twice  to  make 
it  more  impressive.  Bukharin  was  offering  Kamenev  and  Zinoviev 
an  alliance  against  Stalin.  Sokolnikov  declared  that  Bukharin  was 
in  a  tragic  position  and  feared  another  Kamenev-Zinoviev-Stalin  bloc. 
Tomsky  and  Rykov,  the  Right  oppositionists,  were  more  and  more 
hostile  to  Stalin's  leftist  trend.  They  condemned  Stalin  as  inconsis- 
tent. He  wanted  to  retain  the  NEP  and  destroy  the  Nepmen,  kulaks, 
and  foreign  concessionaires. 

At  this  point,  Bukharin  arrived.  Bukharin  was  extremely  nervous 
and  spoke  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  without  stopping.  He  stated 
that  Stalin's  policy  was  undermining  the  Soviet  regime.  His  differ- 
ences with  Stalin  were  now  deeper  than  ever.  Bukharin  had  not 
talked  to  Stalin  for  several  weeks.  Politbureau  meetings  recently 
had  been  very  stormy  with  members  calling  one  another  "liar"  and 
"scoundrel."  Stalin,  he  said,  was  completely  unprincipled,  and  his 
main  purpose  was  to  subject  everybody  to  his  power.  Bukharin  af- 
firmed that  he,  Rykov,  and  Tomsky  aimed  to  bring  Kamenev  and 
Zinoviev  back  into  the  Politbureau  and  to  oust  Stalin.  The  Stalinites, 
Bukharin  predicted,  would  soon  apply  to  Kamenev  for  help.  "You 
can't  put  a  single  document  into  Stalin's  hands  without  his  using  it 
against  you."  Bukharin  suspected  that  Stalin  would  soon  try  to 
remove  him  from  the  editorship  of  the  Pravda.  Stalin  now  would 
propose  a  stricter  policy  of  exploiting  the  peasantry.  Since  the  peas- 
ants would  resist  and  since  civil  war  might  result,  they  needed  strong 
united  leadership.  Bukharin  told  Kamenev  that  he  was  not  talking 
to  him  in  the  interests  of  a  personal  conspiracy  or  to  make  a  palace 
coup;  the  fate  of  the  Revolution  was  at  stake.  In  matters  of  Comin- 
tern ]%licy,  Stalin  was  very  Right  and  conservative.  He  had  expelled 
the  Comintern  from  the  Kremlin. 

"Stalin  will  destroy  all  of  us,"  Bukharin  exclaimed, 

"What  are  your  forces?"  Kamenev  probed. 

Bukharin  declared  that  Tomsky,  Rykov,  Uglanov,  and  Andreyev 
were  with  him  and  against  Stalin.  The  Leningrad  party  organiza- 
tion opposed  Stalin  but  was  afraid  to  have  him  removed  lest  the 
regime  be  weakened,  Stalin  had  won  the  favor  of  the  Ukrainian 
Communists  by  removing  Lazar  Kaganovitch,  Moscow's  chief  rep- 
resentative in  die  Ukraine,  whom  they  disliked  for  his  Jewish  origin. 


98  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Yagoda  and  Trilesser,  high  officials  in  the  GPU,  would  also  side 
with  the  anti-Stalin  forces,  according  to  Bukharin.  Kalinin  and  Voro- 
shilov  had  deserted  them.  Stalin  held  them  by  "special  tongs." 
"Molotov,"  Bukharin  said,  "is  a  fool.  He  tries  to  teach  me  Marx- 


ism." 


Bukharin  added  that  Stalin  wanted  very  much  to  be  recognized 
as  a  theoretician.  "Stalin,"  he  said,  "is  an  opponent  of  the  Genghis 
Khan  variety  and  has  no  scruples."  There  was  no  point  in  starting 
a  discussion  in  the  Central  Committee  of  the  party  because  if  they 
accused  Stalin  of  driving  the  country  to  hunger  and  crisis  he  would 
charge  them  with  supporting  the  kulaks.  The  trouble  was  that  the 
state  and  party  were  united  in  one  bureaucracy  and  that  the  police 
would  be  used  to  suppress  any  ideological  party  opposition.  Stalin 
is  revengeful  and  adept  in  the  art  of  "knifing  in  the  back."  Recently 
when  Stalin  divined  that  Bukharin  was  about  to  attack  him  at  the 
Politbureau  session  he  had  addressed  Bukharin  endearingly  as  "Bu- 
kashka"  and  said,  "Bukashka  dear,  you  and  I  are  the  Himalayas,  The 
others  are  pigmies."  When  the  Politbureau  assembled,  Stalin  launched 
into  a  violent  personal  attack  on  Bukharin*  Thereupon,  Bukharin 
revealed  Stalin's  statement  about  their  being  Himalayas.  Stalin  coun- 
tered that  Bukharin  had  invented  the  whole  conversation  in  order 
to  turn  the  Politbureau  against  him.  Stalin,  Bukharin  said,  had  con- 
verted the  Politbureau  into  an  advisory  body  for  his  own  acts.  He 
would  lead  the  country  to  civil  war  and  then  suppress  the  insurrec; 
tion  which  he  himself  had  provoked. 

Bukharin  asked  Katnenev  to  keep  in  touch  with  him  but  not  to 
use  the  telephone.  He  explained  that  only  Rykov  and  Tomsky  knew 
that  he  had  gone  to  see  Kamenev. 

One  by  one  Prime  Minister  Rykov,  Bukharin,  Zinoviev,  Karne- 
nev,  Sokolnikov,  and  other  right-wingers  were  deprived  of  every 
vestige  of  authority  or  political  power.  They  lost  their  jobs.  By 
1929,  Stalin  was  supreme  dictator.  One  by  one,  in  subsequent  years, 
they  were  tried  in  Moscow  and  sentenced  to  be  executed.  They 
were  purged  because  in  a  dictatorship  they  dared  to  deviate  from 
the  opinions  of  the  dictator.  In  democratic  countries  such  deviations 
lead  to  factions  or  intrigues  within  parties  or  to  the  formation  of 
not  very  dissimilar  parties.  In  Soviet  Russia  they  led  to  the  execution 
cellar. 

Stalin  now  entered  upon  the  "great  offensive,"  the  great  adven- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  99 

ture,  the  great  experiment  in  smashing  capitalism  in  one  country 
and  setting  up  a  socialist  economic  system.  That  was  the  Five  Year 
Plan. 

PART  Two:  SEMI-SANE  INTERLUDE 

Watch  a  man  playing  tennis  or  arguing  with  a  waiter  and  you 
may  be  able  to  judge  how  he  conducts  his  business.  Human  psy- 
chology is  not  departmentalized.  Hitler's  first  important  political  act 
revealed  the  man. 

It  was  the  evening  of  November  8,  19313.  Commissioner  von  Kahr, 
Governor  of  Bavaria,  and  General  von  Lossow,  commander  of  the 
Reichswehr  in  Bavaria,  defying  the  federal  government,  were  set- 
ting up  their  own  regional  dictatorship.  Kahf  and  Lossow  called  a 
meeting  in  the  Buergerbraeukeller  (Citizen's  Beer  Cellar),  a  large  Mu- 
nich assembly  hall,  to  explain  their  action. 

Germany  threatened  to  fall  to  pieces.  Chaos  ruled  in  Bavaria.  The 
situation  had  revolutionary  possibilities.  Adolf  Hitler  resolved  to  ex- 
ploit them.  He  had  talked  passionately  to  groups  of  Ehrhardt  Frei- 
korps  members,  to  Racists  and  extreme  Nationalists.  He  had  oratori- 
cal talents.  He  was  one  leader  of  a  small  party.  But  "voices"  told 
him  he  would  be  master  of  Germany. 

Three  thousand  listeners  packed  the  Munich  beer  hall.  Governor 
von  Kahr  and  the  giant  von  Lossow  were  on  the  stage.  Kahr  was 
speaking.  "Hitler  .  .  .  noiselessly  entered  the  hall/*  writes  Konrad 
Heiden  in  his  biography  of  Hitler.  "Pistol  in  hand,  he  rushed  toward 
the  platform  where  Kahr  was  standing.  .  .  .  He  gave  the  impression 
of  a  raving  lunatic.  His  men  posted  a  machine  gun  at  the  entrance 
of  the  hall.  Hitler  himself,  now  hardly  in  command  of  his  senses, 
leapt  on  to  a  chair,  fired  a  pistol-shot  toward  the  ceiling,  leapt  down 
again,  and  dashed  on  through  the  hall  to  the  platform."  He  climbed 
up  on  the  stage.  His  lips  covered  with  white  foam,  he  announced 
that  the  "national  revolution  has  begun";  his  Storm  Troopers  were 
in  occupation  of  the  barracks  of  the  Reichswehr  and  police.  This 
^'was  a  lie.  "Then,  in  peremptory  tones,"  writes  Heiden,  "he  sum- 
moned Kahr,  as  well  as  Lossow  ...  to  follow  him."  They  followed. 
After  all,  there  was  no  sense  in  being  shot  by  a  maniac.  Hitler  locked 
Kahr  and  Lossow  in  a  room  and  delivered  a  long  speech  to  them. 
He  aimed  his  revolver  at  them.  He  declared  that  he  was  removing 
them  from  office  and  appointing  himself  Chancellor  of  Germany 
and  Ludendorff  chief  of  the  army.  Then  he  put  his  pistol  to  his  own 


100  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

temple  and  cried  out,  "Unless  I  am  victorious  tomorrow,  I  shall  be 
a  dead  man." 

Hitler  had  only  three  hundred  men  at  the  Munich  beer  hall.  He 
had,  however,  his  own  hysterical  courage  and  a  revolver.  With  his 
sense  of  the  dramatic  and  his  boundless  egotism  and  self -faith  he 
had  assumed  that  if  he  subdued  for  a  moment  what  was  in  front  of 
him  the  whole  battle  would  be  won.  By  surprise  he  paralyzed  his 
opponents.  But  soon  they  recovered.  Hitler  had  to  release  Kahr 
and  Lossow.  The  Reichswehr  refused  to  join  the  insurrection  against 
the  Reich.  Its  monocled  commander-in-chief,  General  von  Seeckt, 
telegraphed  from  Berlin  that  "he  would  have  the  Putsch  suppressed." 
The  next  day,  a  Hitler-Ludendorff  march  on  Munich  ended  in  blood- 
shed and  Hitler's  flight.  He  was  arrested  three  days  later.  Three  days 
after  he  had  declared  himself  Chancellor  of  Germany  he  sat  in  a 
prison  cell. 

Hitler's  personal  Blitzkrieg  in  the'  Munich  beer  hall  bears  all  the 
marks  of  Nazi  war  strategy  in  1939  and  1940  and,  too,  of  his  con- 
duct in  home  politics— the  blood  purge  of  June  30,  1934,  for  in- 
stance. Hitler  tore  down  the  aisle  in  the  beer  hall  just  as  his  motor- 
ized columns  cut  ribbons  through  Poland  and  just  as  his  army  raced 
to  the  English  Channel  ports  without  regard  to  what  was  at  its  flanks 
or  rear.  Hitler  always  believed  in  the  paralyzing  effect  of  lightning 
action.  To  startle  is  to  win  half  the  battle.  To  give  the  impression 
of  strength  is  to  win  strength.  It  worked  often.  In  1923,  it  landed 
Hitler  in  jail. 

The  Nation  of  June  3,  1925,  published  an  article  of  mine  from 
Berlin  saying,  "Legal  justice  in  Germany,  as  in  Soviet  Russia,  is 
class  justice.  In  Moscow  a  member  of  the  bourgeoisie  and  a  mem- 
ber of  the  proletariat  commit  the  same  crime.  The  worker  receives 
the  lesser  punishment.  In  Germany  Hitler  arranges  a  Putsch  and 
the  Communists  plan  an  insurrection.  Hitler  spends  six  months  in 
a  palace-prison  and  is  then  released  to  continue  his  activities;  the 
Reds  get  ten  or  fifteen  years'  hard  labor." 

This  article  was  shown  to  Hitler  and  translated  to  him,  for  he 
reads  only  German.  On  looking  through  my  old  clippings  recently 
I  was  astounded  to  find  in  The  Nation  of  September  2,  1925,  a  letter 
from  Adolf  Hitler  complaining  against  my  statement  about  him.  I 
had,  of  course,  seen  the  letter  at  the  time,  but  I  had  forgotten  about 
it  and  so  had  the  editors  of  The  Nation;  Hitler  was  one  of  many 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  101 

insignificant  German  gang-politicians.  The  Nation  printed  his  letter 
and  threw  the  original  into  the  wastebasket. 

Hitler's  letter  read  as  follows: 

Uffingy  June  28 
To  the  Editor  of  The  Nation: 

Sir:  In  your  issue  of  June  3  Mr.  Louis  Fischer  says  that  'Hitler  spent 
six  months  in  a  palace  prison  and  was  then  released.' 

I  was  in  prison  at  Sanberg  a.S  thirteen  months  in  all.  A  special  decree 
on  April  i,  1924,  deprived  me  of  all  previous  privileges.  All  privileges 
theretofore  granted  the  prisoner  were  either  abridged  or  wiped  out. 
Count  Arco  was  still  benefited  by  these  alleviations. 

—ADOLF  HITLER. 

Two  things  are  of  interest:  Hitler's  insistence  on  being  credited 
with  a  longer  prison  term,  and  his  jealousy  of  Count  Arco,  who 
murdered  Kurt  Eisner.  Hitler  was  delivered  to  the  prison  on  No- 
vember u,  1923.  He  was  sentenced  to  five  years'  incarceration  on 
April  i,  1924.  He  was  released  on  December  20,  1924.  Hitler,  there- 
fore, spent  thirteen  months  in  prison.  This  time  Hitler  told  the  truth. 
But  he  served  only  nine  months  of  a  five-year  sentence.  I  had  mis- 
takenly put  it  at  six  months.  R.  T.  Clark  says  in  The  Fall  of  the 
German  Republic  that  Hitler  "was  treated  more  as  a  guest  than  as  a 
prisoner."  The  real  point  is  that  Hitler  was  released  after  a  short 
sojourn  in  jail  and  allowed  "to  continue  his  activities."  What  if  he 
had  remained  under  lock  and  key  for  the  full  term— until  April  i, 
1929?  Would  that  have  altered  the  world's  fate? 

The  failure  of  the  Ludendorff-Hitler  revolt  induced  the  reaction- 
aries to  submit  to  the  Republic.  Submission  was  now  easier  because 
the  Socialists  no  longer  dominated  the  Reich.  On  August  13,  1923, 
Gustav  Stresemann,  leader  of  the  moderate  right  People's  Party,  had 
taken  office  in  Berlin.  That  placated  the  extreme  Right. 

This  recession  of  the  threat  to  the  Republic  from  the  Right  coin- 
cided with  the  collapse  of  violent  Left  opposition.  In  the  autumn  of 
1923,  the  German  Communists  planned  a  revolution.  Preparations 
progressed  far  and  a  number  of  Russians  arrived  to  help.  But  Moscow 
vacillated.  It  decided  on  the  revolt  and  then  revoked  the  instruc- 
tions. Later  it  again  gave  the  signal  to  proceed,  only  to  cancel  it  a 
second  time.  This  last  order  was  delayed  in  reaching  Hamburg,  and 
some  workingmen  of  that  port  erected  barricades,  seized  streets  and 
warehouses,  and  fought  the  police  until  a  messenger  arrived  from 
Berlin  countermanding  the  struggle. 


102  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  defeat  of  leftist  and  rightist  violence  against  the  democratic 
Reich  coincided  with  the  defeat  of  the  Reich's  own  violence  in  the 
Ruhr.  Young  Nazis  and  Communists  had  committed  acts  of  sabotage 
against  the  French  occupation  of  the  Ruhr.  Factory  owners  had 
obstructed  French  efforts  to  normalize  industrial  production.  The 
German  federal  treasury  had  covered  their  losses  and  was  bank- 
rupting itself  in  the  process.  Stresemann  knew  this  strategy  of  pas- 
sive resistance  was  doomed,  and  he  peremptorily  stopped  it. 

Germany  entered  a  period  of  relative  tranquillity.  In  1923  it  had 
looked  like  the  end  of  the  Republic.  Suddenly,  in  1924,  there  was 
peace.  The  Ruhr  episode  exposed  the  folly  of  an  openly  anti-Allied 
policy.  The  endeavors  of  Rathenau  and  Wirth  to  co-operate  with 
England  and  France  had  been  regarded  by  many  Germans  as  a  na- 
tional crime.  Now  the  majority  began  to  see  Allied-German  col- 
laboration as  a  national  necessity* 

Germany  had  to  heal  the  wounds  of  war  and  inflation  and  pay 
tribute  to  the  Allies.  Poincar£  had  invaded  the  Ruhr  on  the  excuse 
of  German  non-payment  of  reparations;  that  convinced  the  Germans 
they  must  pay. 

The  Allies  had  saddled  Germany  with  reparations  until  May  i, 
1956.  Statesmen  and  nations  took  that  seriously.  The  motive  behind 
such  a  prolonged  indemnity,  obviously,  was  not  to  repair  war  dam- 
ages. Its  first  purpose  was  to  punish  Germany  for  having  started  the 
War.  But  the  Germans  angrily  denied  that  the  war  guilt  rested  solely 
upon  them,  and  cited  secret  diplomatic  documents  to  demonstrate 
that  the  roots  of  the  first  World  War  lay  in  the  conflicting  ambi- 
tions of  empires.  Its  second  purpose  was  to  keep  Germany  too  weak 
to  start  another  war.  But  a  weak  Germany  could  not  pay  repara- 
tions. By  1924,  it  was  generally  agreed  that  Germany  was  unable 
to  pay  reparations  unless  she  received  foreign  loans.  Apparently, 
then,  it  was  necessary  to  strengthen  Germany  with  credits  in  order 
to  weaken  her  by  reparations. 

^^Ajnerica  furnished  most  of  the  credits.  With  the  credits,  Germany 
woulcl  pay  reparations  to  the  Allies.  With  the  reparations  the  Allies 
would  pay  their  debts  to  America. 

This  attempted  business  solution  of  the  reparations  muddle  was 
called  the  Dawes  Plan  after  Charles  G.  Dawes,  Chicago  banker,  for- 
mer United  States  Vice  President  and  Ambassador  to  London.  It 
was  administered  in  Berlin  by  S.  Parker  Gilbert,  an  American,  who 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  103 

graduated  from  that  job  to  a  partnership  in  J.  P.  Morgan  and  Com- 
pany. He  ran  the  show  because  his  country  was  paying  the  bills. 

The  Dawes.  plan  went  into  effect  on  September  i,  1924.  In  1924- 
25,  Mr.  Gilbert  collected  one  billion  marks  from  Germany.  (The 
mark  had  been  stabilized  at  4.2  to  the  dollar;  this  sum  therefore 
equaled  approximately  two  hundred  and  thirty-eight  million  dollars.) 
The  next  year  he  got  one  billion  two  hundred  and  twenty  million 
marks;  and  one  and  a  half  billion  in  1926-27.  For  1927-28  the  pre- 
scribed total  rose  to  two  billion  marks,  and  in  1928-29  the  peak  was 
reached  with  two  and  a  half  billion.  This  was  the  "standard  year": 
and  the  two  and  a  half  billion  would  be  paid  annually  until  1956. 
It  was  the  plan  of  an  optimist. 

Where  did  Germany  obtain  these  colossal  sums?  She  pawned  her 
railways  to  the  Reparations  Commission  and  levied  a  railway  tax 
which  increased  fares  and  freight  rates  twenty-seven  percent  and 
correspondingly  reduced  traffic;  she  taxed  the  coffee,  tea,  cocoa,  to- 
bacco, and  whiskey  which  her  citizens  consumed;  she  cut  her  bud- 
get; she  taxed  her  industries.  All  the  proceeds  went  to  S.  Parker 
Gilbert.  Germany  also  gave  France  coal  and  labor  for  nothing. 

Mr.  Gilbert  deposited  the  marks  in  a  Berlin  bank.  The  Allies, 
however,  wanted  the  money  in  their  own  countries.  That  was  not 
Germany's  concern.  The  transfer  abroad  was  Gilbert's  affair.  But 
he  knew  that  if  he  bought  pounds,  dollars,  and  francs  with  his  marks 
and  shipped  them  out,  the  heavy  loss  of  capital  would  cripple  Ger- 
many's economy  unless  she  could  get  in  foreign  countries  at  least  as 
much  money  as  he  sent  to  foreign  countries.  One  way  of  getting 
money  abroad  is  by  exporting  goods.  But  world  commerce  lan- 
guished and  countries  were  limiting  their  purchases  of  German 
goods.  Germany  accordingly  had  recourse  to  another  way  of  get- 
ting money  abroad;  she  borrowed  it.  She  borrowed  it  from  Amer- 
ica, and  to  a  lesser  extent  from  England,  Holland,  and  Switzerland 
so  that  she  could  pay  reparations  to  the  Allies.  During  the  first  four 
years  of  the  Dawes  Plan,  Mr.  Gilbert  reported,  Germany j>aid_five 
and  a  half  billion  marks  in  reparations  and  borrowed,  on  long  terms, 
six  billion  marks.  Germany  paid^out  less  tha$  she  took  in.  The 
Dawes  Plan  was  thus  a  moratorium  based  on  the  assumption  that 
after  a  period  of  economic  recuperation,  and  as  a  result  of  build- 
ing up  her  own  trade  and  financial  surpluses,  Germany  could  pay 
reparations  without  foreign  loans.  That  day  never  arrived. 

Both  sides  complained. 


104  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  Germans  complained.  Reparations  depressed  the  German 
standard  of  living.  Germany  counted  1,900,000  fully  jobless  and 
600,000  part-time  workers  in  1926  despite  the  foreign  money  pour- 
ing into  the  country.  The  money  remained  partially  uninvested  in 
industry— already  overexpanded  during  inflation—and  floated  around 
on  the  stock  market  where  it  stimulated  speculation  and  easy  profits. 
The  mere  interest  on  foreign  loans  was  mounting  so  rapidly  that  it 
constituted  a  brake  on  economic  recovery. 

The  British  complained.  During  1925-26,  Great  Britain  received 
sixty-three  million  dollars  from  Germany  in  reparations:  in  1926-27, 
twice  that  much.  Yet  here  is  a  typical  British  reaction:  the  British 
Electrical  and  Allied  Manufacturers'  Association  published  a  pamph- 
let on  German  economic  conditions  which  said,  "It  is  essential  for 
manufacturers  in  this  country  to  press  for  a  drastic  revision  or  even 
abolition  of  the  Dawes  Plan  in  their  own  interests."  "In  their  own 
interests"  Britons  wanted  less  for  Britain.  Why?  Because  a  contract- 
ing domestic  market  and  the  need  of  incteasing  exports  to  repay 
loans  and  pay  services  on  loans  were  compelling  Germany  to  push 
her  exports  and  compete  against  British  producers  throughout  the 
world  and  even  in  England  proper.  Traditional  free  traders  in  Eng- 
land were  beginning  to  favor  protective  tariffs  at  home  and  in  their 
empire  to  keep  out  foreign  commodities. 

The  British  also  hoped  that  along  with  reparations  ail  interna- 
tional indebtedness  would  be  stricken  from  the  cumbersome  ledgers* 

Others  also  favored  debt  cancellation.  Newton  D.  Baker,  U*  S. 
Secretary  of  War  during  the  World  War,  advised  cancellation.  Irv- 
ing Fisher,  Yale  economics  professor,  and  Thomas  N.  Perkins,  a 
New  England  banker,  urged  cancellation.  The  New  York  World 
and  the  New  York  Times  urged  it.  But  the  bulk  of  Americans  could 
scarcely  understand  why  money  which  they  had  loaned  to  foreigners 
should  not  be  repaid. 

The  inter-Allied  debt  agreements  were  to  continue  in  force  until 
1986.  They  have  long  ceased  being  worth  the  scraps  of  thick  white 
paper  on  which  they  are  printed.  Yet  for  many  months,  busy  finan- 
ciers, government  officials,  and  economists  worked  on  every  comma, 
digit,  and  syllable  of  these  documents.  The  relations  between  nations 
were  embittered  or  ameliorated,  international  trade  was  facilitated 
or  thwarted,  and  the  value  of  moneys  and  savings  fluctuated  in  ac- 
cordance with  whether  or  not  these  debt  negotiations  were  pro- 
ceeding smoothly. 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  105 

Suppose  a  wise  statesman  had  foreseen  the  ephemeral  nature  of 
the  debt  agreements  and  their  threat  to  peace  and  world  business, 
but  his  country  had  given  him  no  mandate  to  cancel  them.  He  could 
have  tried  to  mold  public  opinion.  Suppose,  as  is  likely,  he  had  failed. 
What  could  he  have  done?  History  shows  that  he  would  have  been 
right  to  cancel.  Yet  in  a  democracy  he  could  have  done  nothing. 

In  this  respect,  the  American  political  system  is  no  different  from 
European  democracies.  A  British  cabinet  pursuing  an  unpopular 
policy  could  the  same  day  be  ousted  by  Parliament.  An  American 
president  could  not  be.  But  he  would  need  congressional  approval 
and  might  not  find  it.  Moreover,  presidents  and  legislators  have  their 
ears  close  to  the  ground,  not  only  in  an  election  year,  and  they, 
rarely  make  a  move  against  the  ascertained  opinion  of  the  majority 
of  the  electorate.  Often,  indeed,  a  minority  has  deterred  the  execu- 
tive and  the  legislature  from  taking  a  novel  though  desirable  course, 
desirable  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events  and  in  the  subsequent 
view  of  the  public  itself.  Democracies  are  handicapped  by  the  time- 
lag  of  public  opinion. 

Is  dictatorship  the  cure  for  this  democratic  dilemma?  The  dictator 
might  very  well  adopt  a  wrong  policy.  Unchecked,  he  might  lead 
to  disaster.  I  do  not  know  the  solution  to  this  problem.  But  with 
regard  to  reparations  and  war  debts  it  never  arose.  No  statesman 
had  sufficient  vision.  America  insisted  on  debt  payments  and  France 
insisted  on  reparations  payments. 

As  long  as  the  United  States  imposed  a  high  tariff  on  European 
imports,  the  European  debtors  could  not  meet  their  obligations.  "I 
say  without  hesitation,"  asserted  Senator  Reed  Smoot  of  Utah,  "that 
the  loans  we  made  to  foreign  countries  and  that  the  banks  are  now 
making  to  foreign  countries  cannot  be  paid."  Smoot  knew  because 
he  was  the  co-author  of  the  tariff  law.  Professor  Ernest  M.  Patterson 
of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  proposed  that  "instead  of  raising 
American  tariffs  we  should  carefully  but  definitely  lower  them." 
Nobody  listened;  Americans  wanted  to  have  their  tariffs  and  eat 
debt  payments  too. 

Debt  payments  just  lapsed,  while  reparations  were  annulled  by 
common  consent  in  1932.  But  at  least  from  1924  until  their  disap- 
pearance, reparations  stayed  the  rough  hands  of  French  generals  and 
politicians.  The  Dawes  Plan  failed  to  solve  all  of  Germany's  economic 
problems  or  to  satisfy  creditor  and  debtor  nations.  But  it  kept  the 
German  mark  stable  and  improved  German  business  conditions.  If  the 


106  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

impression  of  national  prosperity  was  somewhat  illusory,  the  Dawes 
era  seemed  like  heaven  to  Germans  who  had  experienced  war  and 
inflation.  The  ruins  of  the  past  were  repaired  and  there  was  much 
new  construction.  The  nation's  nerves  enjoyed  a  vacation. 

Politics  reflected  the  change.  1924  was  a  sane  interlude  in  the  his- 
tory of  Europe.  The  narrow-mindedness  of  hobnailed,  saber-rattling 
reactionaries  gave  way  to  British,  French,  and  German  governments 
whose  thinking  was  tinged  with  internationalism;  the  post-War  years 
had  proved  that  nationalistic  introspection  made  bad  matters  worse. 
In  England,  Ramsay  MacDonald,  the  head  of  the  Labor  Party,  and 
in  France,  Edouard  Herriot,  leader  of  the  Radical  Socialists  (who 
were  neither  radical  nor  socialist),  came  into  office.  In  the  new  at- 
mosphere, an  idea  was  born  which  took  shape  in  the  treaties  signed 
at  Locarno,  Switzerland,  on  October  16,  1925,  by  Chancellor  Luther 
and  Foreign  Minister  Stresemann  for  Germany,  Vandervelde  for 
Belgium,  Briand  for  France,  Austen  Chamberlain  for  England,  and 
Mussolini  for  Italy.  Formal  signature  took  place  in  London  on  De- 
cember i,  1925.  By  the  terms  of  the  Locarno  Pact,  Germany  re- 
nounced forever  all  claims  to  the  provinces  of  Alsace  and  Lorraine 
which  she  had  taken  from  France  in  1870  and  held  until  Novem- 
ber, 1918.  A  strip  of  German  territory  fifty  kilometers  wide  east 
of  the  Rhine  River  would  be  perpetually  demilitarized. 

Versailles  was  a  dictated  peace.  But  at  Locarno,  Germany  volun- 
tarily accepted  much  of  what  she  had  acquiesced  to  under  duress 
at  the  Paris  Peace  Conference.  She  did  so  in  order  to  wean  the 
French  from  their  intransigent  hostility  towards  the  Reich.  As  a 
reward  for  Locarno,  Germany  was  admitted  into  the  League  of 
Nations  with  a  permanent  seat  in  the  League  Council.  For  the  first 
time  since  1914,  Germany  and  the  Western  Powers  met  as  equals, 
not  as  vanquished  and  conquerors. 

Editors  and  politicians  throughout  the  world  hailed  the  Locarno 
Pact  as  the  dawn  of  a  glorious  era  of  peace.  "The  spirit  of  Lo- 
carno" was  invested  with  miraculous  healing  qualities.  "Locarno'* 
became  a  symbol  of  good  will.  But  "the  spirit  of  Locarno"  was  in  part 
a  product  of  imaginative  wishful-thinking.  European  rivalries  per- 
sisted. The  French  army  still  occupied  the  German  Rhineland. 

Locarno  was  something,  but  not  enough.  The  War  increased  the 
number  of  countries  in  Europe  from  twenty-six  to  thirty-five  and 
lengthened  Europe's  frontier's  by  seven  thousand  miles.  That  meant 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  107 

more  armies  and  fortresses  to  guard  them.  It  meant  more  walls  over 
which  merchandise  had  to  jump— after  paying  heavy  duties  for  the 
privilege  of  jumping.  Each  new  nation  in  Europe  wanted  to  build 
its  own  factories  and  protect  them  by  barring  foreign  goods.  This 
hurt  the  old  exporting  nations  like  England,  Germany,  Austria,  and 
France,  and  it  ruined  the  new  industrializing  little  states  which  could 
scarcely  afford  expensive  plants  producing  inferior  commodities  at 
high  cost.  Economic  nationalism  was  the  curse  of  post-War  Europe. 

Some  minds  grasped  this  truth  between  1924  and  1929.  But  first 
it  was  necessary  to  modify  economic  geography.  The  peace  agree- 
ments were  drafted  under  the  sign  of  national  self-determination. 
Wilsonism,  as  incorporated  in  the  peace  treaties,  was  a  license  to 
European  racial  jealousies  to  run  amuck.  When  self-determination 
could  be  implemented  at  the  expense  of  the  former  enemy,  the  Allies 
were  the  most  enthusiastic  Wilsonites.  But  self-determination  never 
stopped  the  Allies  from  giving  the  South  Tirol  Austrians  to  Italy, 
the  Upper  Silesian  Germans  to  Poland,  and  Hungarians  to  Rumania. 
The  peace  of  1919  was  political.  To  set  up  a  counterweight  to  Ger- 
many, and,  secondarily,  to  Hungary,  the  peace  conference  carved 
out  new  countries  whose  safety  required  them  to  enter  the  French 
military  orbit.  Czechoslovakia,  Poland,  Rumania,  and  Yugoslavia 
owed  their  lives  to  this  conception.  Wilsonism  helped  to  establish 
a  new  French  solar  system  of  armed  security.  As  far  as  possible, 
except  for  the  Germans  and  Hungarians,  attempts  were  made  to 
concentrate  races  under  a  single  flag  so  that  one  part  of  a  nationality 
did  not  remain  on  one  side  of  a  frontier  and  another  part  on  the 
other.  But  it  mattered  little  to  the  map-designers  if  iron  were  sepa- 
rated from  the  coal  needed  to  smelt  it  or  if  industries  were  cut  off 
from  their  markets.  Soon,  the  farsighted  understood.  Rectification 
of  frontiers,  however,  was  impossible  in  Versailles  Europe  without 
force  or  the  threat  of  force.  The  only  feasible  revision,  and  the 
revision  needed  most  urgently,  was  the  opening  of  frontiers  to  the 
free  passage  of  goods. 

Before  the  first  World  War,  Germany  enjoyed  a  practical  world 
monopoly  of  potash.  The  peace  treaty  transferred  large  German 
deposits  to  France.  That  fostered  wild  competition  between  the 
two  countries.  Finally,  a  meeting  in  Lugano,  Switzerland,  on  April 
10,  1926,  launched  the  International  Potash  Syndicate.  German  pot- 
ash producers  would  not  sell  in  France  nor  French  potash  producers 
in  Germany.  Of  the  rest  of  the  world  market,  Germany  got  seventy 


108  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

percent,  France  thirty  percent.  Prices  and  profits  rose.  Buyers  did 
not  like  it.  American  interests  protested  and  refused  to  participate 
in  a  gigantic  loan  floated  by  the  Potash  Syndicate.  But  London  took 
up  the  issue  and  oversubscribed  it  many  times  within  a  quarter  of 
an  hour. 

On  the  same  principle,  and  likewise  in  the  1926  "Spirit  of  Lo- 
carno," the  electric-bulb  manufacturers  of  Germany,  the  United 
States,  Holland,  France,  Denmark,  Sweden,  Norway,  England,  Italy, 
and  Japan,  the  bottle-makers  of  England,  Germany,  Czechoslovakia, 
and  Scandinavia,  and  the  iron-pipe  producers  of  Poland,  France,  Ger- 
many, Belgium,  and  Czechoslovakia  formed  international  pools. 

These  were  preliminaries.  The  test  was  the  European  iron  and 
steel  industry.  Always  it  had  been  Englishmen,  like  John  Maynard 
Keynes,  and  Liberal  and  Labor  leaders,  who  criticized  the  Versailles 
Treaty.  Lloyd  George,  one  of  its  authors,  now  regarded  it  skepti- 
cally. Ex-Premier  Nitti  of  Italy  pleaded  for  its  emendation.  The 
French  and  Belgians,  on  the  other  hand,  swore  by  every  letter  of 
it.  Suddenly,  everything  changed. 

On  September  30,  1926,  the  heavy  industrialists  of  the  German 
Ruhr,  the  French  Comite  des  Forges,  and  the  Belgian  and  Luxem- 
bourg iron  and  steel  magnates  formed  an  international  cartel,  or 
trust,  to  co-ordinate  production  and  exports.  This  "Steel  Locarno" 
followed  the  Locarno  Pact  even  as  Stresemann  had  suggested  Lo- 
carno twenty-three  days  after  the  Dawes  Plan  went  into  operation, 

Germany  joined  the  League  of  Nations  on  September  6,  1926, 
During  this  League  session,  Gustav  Stresemann  and  Aristide  Briand 
slipped  away  from  Geneva  and  crossed  the  French  border  to  a 
charming  restaurant  at  Thoiry.  Amidst  good  food  and  fine  wine 
and  enveloped  in  the  smoke  of  Stresemann's  fat  cigars  and  Briand's 
ceaseless  cigarettes,  they  talked  five  hours.  An  American  journalist 
lunching  downstairs  was  unaware  of  the  informal  proceedings  on 
the  second  floor,  but  soon  the  polyglot  correspondents'  corps  at 
Geneva  learned  that  somewhere,  but  exactly  where  they  did  not 
know,  a  world-shaking  event  was  taking  place.  A  man-hunt  started. 
The  French  and  German  foreign  ministers,  still  "ex-enemies,"  in  1926, 
were  actually  enjoying  a  friendly  meal  together.  The  fact  itself  was  in- 
vested with  f  ar-reaching  significance,  but  it  soon  appeared  that  their 
conversation,  too,  encouraged  optimists  in  hoping  for  a  Franco-Ger- 
man entente,  or,  at  least,  an  end  of  hostilities*  With  their  cigars  and 
cigarettes,  Stresemann  and  Briand  were  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace. 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  109 

At  the  same  League  session,  Sir  Austen  Chamberlain  represented 
Great  Britain.  From  Geneva  he  did  not  go  straight  home;  he  went 
instead  to  Livorno,  Italy,  and  met  Benito  Mussolini.  The  British  pa- 
pers nonchalantly  called  it  a  "pleasure  trip."  The  Italian  press,  more 
honest  sometimes  because  controlled,  intimated  that  Livorno  aimed 
to  offset  Thoiry. 

What  happened  on  the  Duce's  yacht  at  Livorno?  The  Giornale 
(f  Italia  affirmed  that  France  and  Germany  could  not  alter  the  Ver- 
sailles Treaty  without  Italian  and  British  consent.  England,  said  this 
authoritative  Fascist  organ,  was  first  among  the  nations  to  recognize 
the  "progressive  character  of  Italian  Fascism";  England  at  Versailles 
had  obstructed  Italian  claims  less  than  other  powers;  both  nations 
had  similar  interests  in  the  Mediterranean.  The  daily  Lavoro  cau- 
tioned Germany  and  France  against  the  steel  pact  which  infringed  on 
Italian  as  well  as  British  interests. 

The  Diplomatic  Correspondent  of  the  London  Daily  Telegraph, 
often  the  voice  of  his  Foreign  Office,  reminded  Italy  that  "the  recent 
development  of  her  metal  industries,  and  her  lack  of  native  coal 
resources,  would  render  any  Franco-German  coal  and  steel  combine 
a  matter  of  serious  economic  concern  for  the  peninsula."  A  few  days 
later  he  warned  Italy  against  supporting  any  revamping  of  Versailles' 
or  any  "cash  settlement"  for  the  evacuation  of  the  Rhineland.  His 
hint  to  the  Italians  to  remain  aloof  from  the  Franco-German  iron 
and  steel  cartel  mirrored  a  strong  British  opposition  to  it.  England 
imports  iron  and  exports  coal,  and  she  feared  that  a  dovetailing  of 
Rhineland  and  Alsace-Lorraine  industries  would  give  the  continental 
trusts  an  advantage  over  her.  Judge  Gary  of  the  U.  S.  Steel  Cor- 
poration said  the  cartel  was  a  blow  against  the  British  steel  industry. 
British  influence  therefore  persuaded  Polish  coal  and  steel  manu- 
facturers to  shun  the  cartel.  Poland  was  normally  anti-German  and 
pro-French.  But  when  France  moved  closer  to  Germany,  Poland 
moved  closer  to  England,  especially  since  the  London  City  could 
become  either  the  source  of  loans  for  the  money-starved  Polish  in- 
dustries or  the  intermediary  between  Wall  Street  and  Warsaw. 

Herein  lay  the  tragedy  of  Europe.  Every  action  provoked  an  equal 
and  opposite  reaction.  Find  a  friend  and  you  made  an  enemy.  No 
sooner  did  Briand  and  Stresemann  contemplate  a  step  towards  paci- 
fication than  Chamberlain  and  Mussolini,  suspecting  it  might  be 
aimed  against  them,  as  indeed  it  might  have  been,  rushed  to  sabotage 


110  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

it.  No  sooner  did  France  and  Germany  plan  to  lower  an  economic 
frontier  than  England,  Italy,  and  Poland  complained. 

International  obstacles  to  a  European  settlement  were  reinforced 
by  discordant  intra-national  tendencies.  Stresemann's  rightist  ene- 
mies at  home  resented  his  cordial  approaches  to  France.  And  the 
moment  Briand  succeeded  in  establishing  a  relaxed  atmosphere  by 
breaking  bread  with  Stresemann  at  Thoiry,  his  superior,  Premier 
Poincarl,  delivered  a  sizzling  anti-German  speech  at  Bar-le-Duc, 
stressing  the  point  which  always  offended  Germans  most,  Germany's 
war  guilt.  The  German  press  thereupon  attacked  Poincare  for  stab- 
bing peace  in  the  back,  and  Stresemann  at  Cologne  demanded  the 
evacuation  of  the  Rhineland.  To  aggravate  matters,  a  French  lieu- 
tenant in  the  German  town  of  Gemersheim  shot  a  German  civilian, 
and  at  Neustadt  in  the  occupied  zone  a  French  soldier  was  killed 
by  a  German.  Chauvinist  elements  in  both  countries  made  political- 
party  capital  out  of  these  and  similar  incidents.  Germans  said  they 
were  reasons  for  evacuation;  Frenchmen  said  they  were  reasons  for 
continued  occupation. 

The  yearning  toward  economic  internationalism  and  political  san- 
ity tried  to  overcome  these  obstructions.  In  1926  and  1927,  the  pres- 
tige of  the  League  of  Nations  was  at  its  peak.  Peace  hopes  mounted 
high.  They  fed  on  talk.  A  floundering  continent  groped  for  a  solu- 
tion that  would  save  it.  The  International  Chamber  of  Commerce 
issued  a  manifesto  declaring  that  "trade  barriers  are  working  havoc 
throughout  Europe.  .  .  .  They  should  be  abolished  wherever  pos- 
sible, or  at  least  greatly  modified."  These  were  the  constructive 
ideas:  customs  unions,  reduced  .  tariffs,  and  international  cartels. 
Briand  paraded  as  the  prophet  of  USE— the  United  States  of  Europe. 
Others  called  it  Pan-Europa.  In  France,  progressives  broached  a 
scheme  for  a  European  federal  reserve  bank  to  control  all  curren- 
cies. At  The  Hague  conference  on  reparations  in  1929,  Gustav  Strese- 
mann lifted  his  voice— the  German  dailies  devoted  special  attention 
to  the  idealistic  tone  of  his  voice— and  attacked  the  "barriers  which 
barred  the  emergence  of  a  world  economy  and,  particularly,  of  a 
European  economy.5*  But  editors  in  western  capitals  asked  whether 
Stresemann's  goal  was  a  Utopia  or,  perhaps,  more  foreign  trade  for 
German  businessmen.  Even  in  England,  mother  of  free  trade  (and, 
therefore,  of  parliaments?)  an  intelligent  industrialist  like  Lord  Mel- 
chett  seconded  Lord  Beaverbook's  campaign  for  free  trade  within 
the  empire— which  meant  keeping  foreign  competitors  out  of  it— 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  111 

and  protectionism  against  the  rest  of  the  world.  Britain  took  this 
course.  In  spite  of  idealistic  outpourings,  the  trend  was  away  from 
a  European  customs  union  and  towards  more  protection. 

Economic  internationalism  is  no  cure-all.  But  without  it  there 
could  be  no  solution  in  Europe.  Economic  nationalism  is  waste- 
ful. Raised  to  the  ultimate  degree  it  is  Fascism,  striving  for  autarchy 
or  self -containment.  The  vague  outline  of  two  possible  choices  open 
to  the  capitalist  world  began  to  come  into  focus  in  1929:  either  the 
world  would  pool  its  resources  and  distribute  its  goods  through  un- 
hampered channels  of  international  trade,  or  some  countries,  no  mat- 
ter what  they  preached  at  the  time,  would  try  to  produce  and  own 
everything  they  required  and  to  seize  what  they  required  but  did 
not  own.  The  first  signs  of  the  threatening  struggle  between  Fascism 
and  non-Fascism  were  discernible  a  decade  before  the  two  came  to 
bloody  grips. 

Intellectuals,  hardboiled  bankers,  radicals,  and  statesmen  aired 
plenty  of  plans  for  economic  salvation  and  war  prevention.  But  the 
very  fact  that  these  blueprints  remained  on  paper  deepened  pessi- 
mism and  social  discontent.  The  longer  the  proposals  for  European 
peace  were  discussed  in  public  the  more  obvious  it  became  that  gov- 
ernments had  not  yet  converted  them  into  reality.  This  applied 
equally  to  disarmament. 

The  Preparatory  Commission  for  Disarmament  met  intermittently 
at  Geneva  from  May  16,  1926  to  April  26,  1927,  and  again  and 
again  up  to  1929,  and  after.  Experts  attempted  to  determine  which 
end  of  a  cannon  was  defensive  and  which  offensive,  whether  com- 
mercial airplanes  could  serve  military  purposes  and  whether  fortresses 
were  for  attack  or  defense.  Diplomats  jousted  in  marble-hailed  lists 
with  brilliant  phrases  as  lances  and  memoranda  as  armor.  All  lost.  By 
the  spring  of  1929,  the  League  of  Nations  had  published  fourteen 
thousand  pages  of  reports  on  disarmament  debates,  but  not  a  single 
soldier  or  gun  or  ship  or  plane  had  been  eliminated  from  the  world's 
military  establishments.  On  the  contrary,  all  nations  had  accelerated 
the  pace  of  reamament.  It  seemed  to  me  then  that  all  Europe  was 
arming  and  that  the  Allies'  ambitious  international  effort  to  reduce 
Germany  to  a  military  nonentity  had  failed.  If  Europe  had  wished 
to  disarm,  it  might  have  seized  the  opportunity  in  1919  and  1920 
when  Germany  was  practically  a  military  zero.  Nothing  had  been 
done  then,  and  now  it  was  too  late. 


112  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

The  Kellogg  Pact  was  signed  in  Paris  on  August  27,  1928.  All 
the  great  powers,  including  Russia,  Japan,  and  Germany,  and  scores 
of  smaller  states  joined  the  United  States  in  renouncing  .war  as  an 
instrument  of  national  policy.  But  when  U.  S.  Senator  Capper  pro- 
posed legislation  for  an  embargo  on  arms  shipments  to  any  aggres- 
sor who  had  violated  this  solemn  and  almost  universal  pact  he  found 
little  support.  People  preferred  a  peace  without  teeth.  And  they 
never  really  put  any  faith  in  the  pact,  for  the  year  of  the  Kellogg 
accord  marked  a  sharp  rise  in  armaments. 

Hopes  inflated  by  talk  were  deflated  by  acts.  The  war  psychosis 
born  of  the  first  World  War  had  barely  yielded  to  the  peace  psy- 
chosis in  1925  when  the  nations  started  preparing  for  new  wars. 
Idealism  turned  sour  and  disillusionment  spread.  The  disappoint- 
ment was  not  so  much  with  1914-18  as  with  1919-29.  The  war  was 
a  gruesome  calamity.  But  it  was  the  dismal  aftermath  that  made  it 
2,  complete  waste.  If  out  of  the  war  a  better  Europe,  and  even  a 
better  life,  had  risen,  the  bloodshed  might  have  been  condoned  or 
forgiven.  But  the  utter  bankruptcy  of  governments  and  statesman- 
ship in  the  post-War  era  impelled  people  to  re-examine  the  War 
and  mark  it  down  in  value.  Many  of  the  anti-war  novels  and  plays 
really  reflected  the  failure  of  the  peace.  Consciously,  or  by  an  in- 
stinctive reaction,  authors,  intellectuals,  and  others  found  the  hor- 
rors of  the  war  more  ghastly  as  they  realized  that  in  liquidating  the 
first  War  the  ground  had  been  prepared  for  a  second. 

All  Germans  believed  the  peace  wronged  them;  some  took  the 
view  that  they  must  oppose  the  efforts  to  carry  it  out.  Most  post- 
War  German  governments,  however,  acted  on  the  assumption  that 
fulfillment  of  obligations  would  help  Germany,  and,  incidentally, 
Europe.  But  every  economic  difficulty  in  Germany,  every  refusal 
of  the  powers  to  unite  the  continent,  and  every  step  toward  Euro- 
pean rearmament  undermined  the  position  of  those  Germans  who 
favored  collaborating  with  the  Western  Powers.  The  German  So- 
cial Democrats,  for  instance,  voted  against  the  appropriation  for  a 
pocket  cruiser.  The  Nationalists  had  only  to  publish  official  Anglo- 
French  news  about  naval  and  army  expansion  to  weaken  the  appeal 
of  the  Socialists. 

Niccolo  Machiavelli  gives  advice  in  The  Prince  on  how  to  treat 
defeated  adversaries;  they  "must  either  be  caressed  or  annihilated.'* 
The  Allies  did  neither.  They  could  not  or  did  not  want  to  annihilate 
Germany,  and  their  rough  caresses  irritated  more  than  they  pla- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  113 

cated.  Reparations,  the  French  occupation  of  the  Rhineland,  and 
the  Versailles  Treaty  were  symbols  to  Germans  of  their  inferiority, 
and  weapons,  therefore,  which  the  reactionaries  could  use  against 
the  democratic  Republic. 

Gustav  Stresemann,  the  author  and  administrator  of  German  for- 
eign policy  from  1923  to  his  death  on  October  3,  1930,  once  out- 
lined his  diplomacy  to  me  when  I  cornered  him  at  a  tea  in  the  Foreign 
Office.  He  said,  "The  three  objects  of  German  policy  are  to  achieve 
the  evacuation  of  the  Rhineland,  to  reduce  and  ultimately  abolish 
reparations,  and  to  alter  the  anomalous  status  of  East  Prussia  separated 
from  the  Fatherland  by  the  so-called  Polish  Corridor.  The  occupation 
of  the  Rhineland,"  he  continued,  "does  not  harm  us  economically,  but 
no  minister  can  remain  in  office  who  does  not  strive  to  clear  the  prov- 
ince and  thus  comply  with  the  wishes  of  all  Germans.  With  respect  to 
East  Prussia,  there  can  never  be  perfect  relations  with  Poland.  Here 
Russia  renders  us  invaluable  assistance. 

"In  view  of  our  immediate  aims:  Reparations,  Rhineland,  East 
Prussia,"  Stresemann  added,  "we  cannot  forego  our  policy  of  an 
understanding  with  France."  The  omission  of  England  was  glar- 
ing and  I  called  attention  to  it.  Franco-German  collaboration  was 
his  pet  child  and  his  words  revealed  resentment  against  London  for 
interfering  with  it.  He  intimated  that  England  feared  the  economic 
rise  of  Germany  and  the  probable  renewal  of  spirited  Anglo-German 
commercial  rivalry. 

To  millions  of  Germans,  however,  reconciliation  with  France  was 
an  inglorious  and  constant  reminder  of  Germany's  defeat.  To  justify 
it  and  to  win  sufficient  votes  for  his  policy  Stresemann  had  to  pro- 
duce results  all  the  time.  When  the  Allies  made  no  concessions  to 
him,  his  political  opponents  on  the  Right  asked  what  sense  there  was 
in  his  kowtowing  to  Paris.  But  the  more^  the  Allies  gave,  the  more 
encouraged  the  Germans^  felt  about :  asking-^Xs  long  as  the  Allies 
held  hostages  in  Germany  in  the  shape  of  reparations  and  the  Rhine- 
land  occupation,  the  German  government  had  to  be  a  democratic 
one  based  on  co-operation  with  the  Allies.  This  restrained  the  Na- 
tionalists. They  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  demagogy  but  could  not  run 
Germany.  When,  however,  the  Allies  had  nothing  more  to  give,  this 
restraint  was  lifted.  Having  j£Ot  all  the  cake,  further  reason  for  good 
behavior  disappeared.  At  The  Hague  reparations  conference  in  1929, 
the  Dawes  Plan  was  superseded  by  the  Owen  D.  Young  Plan,  and 
the  reparations  annuities,  theretofore  unlimited  in  number  and 


114  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

amounting  to  approximately  $600,000,000,  were  now  fixed  at 
$492,000,000  for  the  next  thirty-seven  years,  and  $408,000,000  for 
twenty-two  years  after  that.  Thus  was  Germany's  fate  to  be  settled 
until  1988!  In  pursuance  of  the  Young  Plan  agreement,  the  Allies 
immediately  commenced  to  evacuate  the  Rhineland;  their  last  sol- 
dier departed  in  June,  1930.  This  represented  all  the  Allies  could  sur- 
render as  far  as  their  physical  presence  in  Germany  was  concerned, 
and  for  the  moment  at  least,  the  limits  of  concessions  on  reparations 
had  also  been  reached.  The  Stresemann  policy  of  reconciliation  ac- 
cordingly appeared  less  useful  because  it  could  yield  no  tangible 
fruit,  and  from  1930  the  descent  to  Hitler  grew  very  marked.  Hitler 
supposedly  rose  to  office  on  a  high  wave  of  resentment  against  Ger- 
man enslavement.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  only  became  possible  with 
the  disappearance  of  the  Rhineland  occupation  and,  in  1932,  of 
reparations.  It  is  a  paradoxical  truth,  therefore,  that  Versailles  kept 
Germany  democratic  whereas  Allied  leniency  freed  those  German 
forces  which  ultimately  opened  the  road  to  Fascism.  As  somebody 
has  put  it,  Germany  was  freed  from  her  enemies  so  that  she  might 
become  her  own  enemy. 

That  a  basis  for  Fascism  existed  in  Germany  is  clear  from  the 
assistance  and  adulation  given  to  the  Rathenau  murderers.  The 
humiliation  of  the  defeat  and  the  peace  stored  up  animosity  for  the 
Republic  which  treated  in  friendly  fashion  with  the  traditional  en- 
emy. The  insult  of  the  Rhineland  occupation  added  to  the  economic 
injury  of  reparations.  Desperate,  disgruntled  persons,  especially 
young  persons,  moved  to  an  extreme  in  which  security  became  ugly 
philistinism  and  employment  an  irksome  bar  to  participation  in  the 
adventure  of  Nazism.  Because  they  suffered  from  the  absence  of 
work  and  security  they  grew  to  abhor  both,  and  an  unsettled  life 
of  strife  became  an  object  in  itself. 

But  these  were  the  minority  of  the  population.  The  vast  bulk  of 
Germans  lived  in  relative  prosperity  during  1924  to  19x9*  They  saw 
improvement  and  hoped  for  more.  Art,  the  cinema,  the  theater,  the 
sciences  flourished.  The  liberal  elements  of  the  nation  spread  their 
beliefs.  It  is  a  fallacy  to  suppose  that  Fascism  was  Germany's  inexor- 
able destiny.  To  regard  anything  in  politics  as  inevitable  is  a  fatalism 
which  ignores  the  dynamic  laws  of  society.  Man  is  not  entirely  free, 
but  within  broad  limits  he  can  affect  and  alter  his  fate.  As  in  all  coun- 
tries in  modern  times  a  tug-of-war  went  on  in  Germany  between 
Right  and  Left,  between  employers  and  labor,  between  conserva- 


SIX  LOST  YEARS  115 

tives  and  progressives.  The  outcome  of  this  conflict  was  not  preor- 
dained, and  the  elements  of  peace,  democracy,  and  decency  might 
have  won. 

Part  of  the  responsibility  for  their  defeat  and  the  consequent  ad- 
vent of  Hitler  rests  on  the  shoulders  of  the  rest  of  Europe.  The  Ger- 
man Republic  succumbed  because  the  War-winners  did  riot  do 
enough  to  save  it.  They  operated  against  one  another,  against  Euro- 
pean unity  and  against  Germany.  With  England,  France,  Russia,  and 
Italy,  as  well  as  the  minor  nations,  working  at  cross-purposes,  Ger- 
many was  the  first  big  casualty. 

1930  opened  the  decade  of  aggression,  Fascism,  and  appeasement 
which  ended  in  the  second  World  War.  Several  of  the  dikes  which 
might  have  stemmed  the  dark  tide  were  pierced  or  removed  in  1929. 

One  dike  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  muddy  Tiber  in  the  city 
of  Rome.  The  second  was  on  Wall  Streeet,  New  York. 

The  Lateran  Treaty  between  Pope  Pius  XI  and  Benito  Mussolini 
was  concluded  in  February,  1929,  and  went  into  effect  on  June  7, 
1929.  It  restored  to  the  Pope  his  temporal  power  over  the  one-sixth 
of  a  square  mile  included  within  the  gray  walls  of  the  Vatican  which 
thus  became  a  unique  little  state.  Since  1870,  the  Vatican  had  had 
no  terrestrial  authority.  In  that  period  its  spiritual  authority  had  in- 
creased enormously.  In  1929,  it  regained  its  terrestrial  authority. 

"The  whole  force  of  the  Italian  Catholic  Church  is  now  to  be 
placed  behind  the  Mussolini  dictatorship,"  commented  The  Nation. 
Mussolini  had  encountered  serious  obstacles  in  consolidating  Fas- 
cism in  Italy.  The  Socialists  and  Communists  interfered,  and  so  did 
the  Catholics.  Fascism's  ambitions  are  total;  it  does  not  merely  wish 
to  rule  certain  acres.  It  aspires  to  conquer  the  heart  and  mind,  par- 
ticularly of  youth,  and  on  these  the  strength  of  Roman  Catholicism 
was  founded.  A  fierce  struggle  accordingly  ensued  between  Catholi- 
cism and  Fascism.  On  the  part  of  the  Church,  k  was  fought  subtly. 
Mussolini  used  repression  and  propaganda. 

The  Lateran  Treaty  was  a  peace  treaty  between  the  Roman 
Church  and  Fascism.  It  strengthened  Mussolini  who  needed  the 
popular  support  which  amicable  relations  with  the  Vatican  brings 

to  a  government  of  Catholic  Italy.  He  paid  the  Vatican  a  large  sum 

&  jj.      •  t_  •  — "- "- *"" — — -«— ~~— 

of  nionejr  and  conceded  its  right  to  sovereignty. 

^TKeT  repercussions  of  this  pact  reached  to  Germany,  Poland,  Spain, 
and  Portugal  where  Fascist  movements  were  striving  for  influence 


116  THE  POST-WAR  .PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

over  Catholic  populations.  Hostility  to  Fascism  ceased  to  be  the  un- 
alterable tenet  of  Catholics  after  the  Pope  became  reconciled  to  the 
Duce.  Innumerable  German  Catholics,  to  be  sure,  persisted  in  their 
abhorrence  of  Fascism,  and  Cardinal  Faulhaber  of  Munich  pursued 
the  struggle  against  Nazism  with  rare  courage.  Nevertheless,  promi- 
nent Catholic  politicians  now  began  to  lean  further  towards  Hitler; 
and  it  was  von  Papen,  a  leader  of  the  German  Catholic  Center 
Party  and  owner  of  its  daily  newspaper  Germania,  who  actually 
opened  the  door  for  Hitler's  entry  into  office. 

American  capitalism  had  served  as  another  bulwark  against  Fas- 
cism. But  in  1929,  American  capitalism  ran  into  a  little  trouble.  It 
had  been  warned  by  men  like  Paul  M.  Warburg  who,  criticizing  the 
Federal  Reserve  system  in  March,  1929,  declared  that  "if  orgies  of 
unrestrained  speculation  are  permitted  to  spread  too  far,  the  ulti- 
mate collapse  is  certain  not  only  to  affect  the  speculators  themselves, 
but  also  to  bring  about  a  general  depression  involving  the  entire 
country."  Some  people  pulled  out  and  lived  happily  ever  afterwards, 
but  the  American  stock-market  public  as  a  whole  was  too  money- 
mad  to  pay  attention  to  dull  economists.  Installment  plans,  eighteen 
million  bathtubs,  and  millions  of  automobiles,  symbols  of  the  Coolidge 
Age,  were  as  destructive  of  sobriety  as  bootleg  liquor,  and  the  crash 
came  on  October  24. 

The  American  stock-market  collapse  and  the  subsequent  eco- 
nomic slump  had  more  to  do  with  the  advent  of  Hitler  than  the 
Treaty  of  Versailles.  The  boom  Germany  experienced  between  ^24 
and  1929  was  stimulated  by  borrowing  abroad,  chiefly  in  the  United 
States.  Germany  borrowed  abroad,  approximately,  in  1925,  1,250,- 
000,000  gold  marks;  in  1926,  1,750,000,000  gold  marks;  in  1927, 
1,650,000,000  gold  marks;  and  in  1928,  1,500,000,000  gold  marks; 
but  in  1929,  only  400,000,000  gold  marks,  and  after  that  it  tapered 
off  even  more  sharply.  With  what  results?  German  stock-market 
values  rose  from  100  in  1924-26,  to  148.8  in  1928,  but  dropped  to 
133,9  *n  *929  atl(*  49-6  in  1932.  German  production  was  100  in 
1928,  1014  in  1929,  83.6  in  1930,  69.1  in  1931,  and  55,3  in  1932. 
Then  came  Hitler.  Unemployment  stood  at  1,913,842  in  1929,  and 
5,737,000  in  1932.  That  helped  Hitler.  Unintentionally,  and  in  con- 
sequence of  what  appeared  to  be  purely  American  events,  the  United 
States  contributed  to  the  coming  of  Fascism  in  Germany. 


7-  Personal 

G3ING  to  Russia  from  Germany  or  France  was  like  going 
to  another  planet.  Probably  nothing  would  please  an  astron- 
omer more  than  to  fly  to  Mars  or  some  other  star,  and  there 
set  up  his  telescopes  and  measuring  paraphernalia  to  observe  our 
planet's  movements.  From  Moscow,  one  got  a  better  view  of  the 
chaos  on  non-Soviet  planets. 

Soviet  Russia  was  not-Europe  and  not- America.  Each  time  I  left 
Russia  I  understood  it  better.  Each  time  I  got  disgusted  with  Russia 
I  had  only  to  return  to  central  and  western  Europe.  The  disgust 
dwindled. 

The  Russian  Revolution  was  a  vast  churning  process.  What  had 
been  on  top  was  ground  to  the  bottom,  and  what  had  been  on  the 
bottom  ruled.  The  mass  of  peasants  and  workingmen,  long  separated 
from  light  and  sun  by  a  thin  crust  of  royalty,  aristocracy,  and  plu- 
tocracy, pushed  lava-like  to  the  surface  and  flowed  far  and  wide, 
covering  the  former  upper  stratum  as  it  moved. 

I  had  never  been  in  Czarist  Russia.  But  when  I  first  visited  Soviet 
Russia  in  1922,  much  of  Czarist  Russia  still  stood  intact.  Czarism  in 
its  ugly  elegance  was  too  brittle  to  change,  too  dumb  to  improve,  too 
selfish  to  share.  Czarism  made  the  Bolshevik  Revolution  and  handed 
it  to  Lenin.  Revolution  is  always  the  old  cook's  last  meal;  he  pre- 
pares the  ingredients,  the  new  cook  puts  them  pn  the  fire.  The  con- 
trast between  palace  and  slum  hovel,  and  between  manor  house  and 
tumbled-down  peasant  hut  supplied  the  fuel  of  Russia's  rebellion.  By 
1922,  the  Revolution  had  not  yet  removed  the  hovels  and  huts.  It 
therefore  took  all  the  more  pains  to  preserve  the  palaces.  The  peasant 
in  homespun  shirt  and  with  shoes  made  of  wood-shavings,  who  tim- 
orously toured  the  gorgeous  homes  of  the  Romanov  kings  felt  bet- 
ter when  he  returned  to  sleep  under  his  thatch  roof  while  the  cow 
mooed  in  the  next  room.  He  felt  superior  because  he  had  ousted  his 
superiors.  The  concrete  proof  was  that  he  and  his  wife  had  just  vis- 
ited the  Czarina's  bedroom.  The  worker  was  fed  on  dreams,  theories, 
and  hatred  of  the  past.  The  Bolsheviks  told  him  that  everything  be- 

117 


118  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

longed  to  him;  it  was  his  factory,  his  city,  his  summer  resort,  his 
government,  his  future.  It  gave  him  an  illusion  of  wealth.  He  be- 
lieved it  because  no  other  owner  existed;  the  former  capitalists,  land- 
lords, and  nobles  had  been  exiled  or  killed. 

In  a  village,  near  Kharkov  the  peasants  asked  me  whether  I  knew 
the  Rudenskys.  The  family  had  owned  the  land  of  the  entire  vil- 
lage. During  the  civil  war,  the  peasants  had  murdered  Rudensky 
and  his  wife.  Two  sons,  officers  in  the  White  Russian  army  of  Deni- 
kin,  died  fighting.  But  one  son  escaped  abroad.  He  worked  as  a  waiter 
in  Paris.  Did  I  know  him?  Ivan  Rudensky,  the  only  heir  to  their 
land.  The  Soviets  had  nationalized  the  land.  It  had  ceased  to  be  pri- 
vate property.  The  peasants  saw  the  strength  of  the  Soviet  regime. 
But  they  would  have  felt  more  comfortable  if  Ivan  were  dead  in- 
stead of  washing  dishes  in  Montmartre.  The  business  of  the  Bol- 
sheviks was  to  prove  that  the  past  was  irrevocable. 

One  of  my  most  memorable  early  experiences  in  Russia  was  the 
trial  of  Boris  Savinkov.  It  contained  more  drama  than  many  of  the 
later  trials  staged  when  Moscow  had  learned  the  tricks  of  publicity. 
A  strange,  startling  individual  stood  in  the  dock  answering  charges 
punishable  by  death.  But  actually  the  trial  was  a  funeral;  an  anti- 
Bolshevik  chapter  of  Russia's  past  was  about  to  admit  bankruptcy, 
commit  suicide  in  the  witness  box,  and  be  publicly  interred. 

Boris  Savinkov  was  a  terrorist,  a  revolutionist,  and  a  good  novel- 
ist. He  had  tried  to  assassinate  Lenin  and  had  made  plans  to  blow 
up  Trotzky's  train.  He  staged  a  three-day  anti-Bolshevik  uprising  of 
the  Right  Social  Revolutionaries  in  the  town  of  Yaroslav  in  1918. 
He  admitted  all  this  at  his  trial  on  the  evening  of  August  21,  1924. 

Savinkov  testified  that  he  had  stolen  into  Russia  a  week  before 
from  Poland  and  the  GPU  had  caught  him  in  a  house  in  Minsk. 
The  courtroom  held  about  150  people.  Among  them  were  Djer- 
zhinsky,  first  chief  of  the  secret  police,  Leo  Kamenev,  assistant 
prime  minister,  Chicherin,  Radek,  Karakhan,  and  other  Soviet  ce- 
lebrities. Proceedings  were  taking  place  before  Russia's  Supreme 
Court.  At  the  press  table,  I  remember  Walter  Duranty  of  the  New 
York  Times  and  Albert  Rhys  Williams,  who  understood  what  was 
Tolstoyan  in  the  soul  of  the  Russian  peasant. 

Savinkov  sat  in  the  witness  box  between  two  soldiers  with  fixed 
bayonets.  He  was  about  fifty.  The  right  side  of  his  face  looked  as 
though  a  hand  had  pushed  it  upward,  and  in  the  left  cheek  there  was 
a  deep  gash  from  cheek  bone  to  jowl.  His  eyes  gave  the  impression 


PERSONAL  119 

of  looking  at  something  they  had  looked  at  before— death.  By  die 
time  I  arrived  he  had  been  testifying  for  three  hours.  He  told  of 
his  pre-revolutionary  activity;  he  had  participated  in  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  Czarist  Minister  Plehve  and  of  the  Grand  Duke  Sergei. 
"I  also  took  part  in  many  other  terrorist  attempts.  I  am  a  man  who 
worked  all  his  life  for  the  people  and  in  their  name.  ...  I  loved 
Russia  and  felt  deeply  devoted  to  its  working  people." 

Then  why  had  he  fought  the  Bolsheviks?  Because  they  had  sup- 
pressed the  democratic  Constituent  Assembly  and  because  "I 
thought  the  masses  would  not  follow  the  Communist  party."  In  that 
he  admitted  his  error.  "The  majority  of  Russia's  workers  and  peas- 
ants are  for  the  Communists."  This  statement  was  worth  the  trial, 
for  Savinkov  had  a  name  in  Russia  and  here  he  was  in  court  making 
his  obeisance  to  the  Soviet  regime. 

"I  am  a  revolutionary.  I  am  not  a  criminal,"  Savinkov  exclaimed, 
and  those  present  listened  with  a  respect  that  echoed  agreement.  "I 
am  a  prisoner  of  war.  I  fought  and  lost.  Judge  me  as  you  wish.  Right 
or  wrong,  misguided  or  not,  the  Russian  people  is  my  people  and  I 
submit  to  its  will." 

He  resumed  his  seat.  Chief  Justice  Ulrich,  young,  pudgy,  jovial 
(I  interview  him  a  few  days  later),  and  his  two  associates  retired  to 
pass  sentence. 

We  waited.  Savinkov  waited  in  front  of  us.  An  hour  passed  and 
then  two.  We  waited  from  nine  to  midnight.  Savinkov  was  waiting 
to  know  whether  a  bullet  from  the  rifle  of  that  soldier  who  guarded 
him  would  smash  out  his  brain.  Almost  every  ten  minutes  the  two 
soldiers  escorted  him  to  the  lavatory.  He  was  nervous.  Once  I  was 
in  the  washroom  with  him.  He  glanced  around  bewildered  like  a 
baited  animal— a  strong  man,  not  frightened  but  afraid. 

One  o'clock.  Bolshevik  leaders  in  the  audience  suggested  that  the 
verdict  would  not  be  delivered  until  tomorrow.  Tomorrow!  How 
would  Savinkov  sleep  tonight?  Uncertainty  would  be  worse  than  an 
immediate  firing  squad. 

Shortly  after  one  o'clock,  a  tall  sailor  came  in  and  shouted,  "The 
court  is  coming."  We  rose.  Ulrich  began  to  read.  "Whereas"  and  he 
read  a  list  of  Savinkov's  admissions,  "whereas"  and  he  listed  Savin- 
kov's  sins  against  the  revolution,  "whereas"  and  he  enumerated  the 
proletarian  lives  that  Savinkov's  activities  had  cost,  "whereas"  and 
"whereas"  and  "whereas."  The  air  throbbed.  My  heart  knocked  hard 
against  rny  ribs.  It  was  difficult  to  listen.  I  stood  about  four  feet 


120  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

frbrn  Savinkov.  How  was  he  able  to  stand  upright?  ".  .  .  is  sen- 
tenced to  death,"  I  heard  Ulrich  say.  Before  anyone  had  time  to 
react,  Ulrich  went  on,  "Nevertheless,  in  view  of  .  .  ."  It  was  like 
a  sudden  discharge  of  pent-up  electricity.  A  cold  hand  had  ceased 
clutching  at  die  heart.  In  view  of  Savinkov's  confession  of  guilt,  in 
view  of  his  readiness  to  serve  the  Revolution,  the  death  sentence  was 
commuted  to  ten  years'  imprisonment. 

I  watched  at  the  exit  door  to  see  Savinkov  leave.  In  his  black  over- 
coat pocket  was  a  large  whiskey  bottle,  half -full  His  guards  had 
allowed  him  to  gulp  from  it  during  the  long  wait, 

I  wondered  why  Savinkov  should  have  wanted  to  enter  Russia  in 
1924  and  risk  a  death  sentence  or  a  life  in  prison.  He  must  have 
known  that  there  was  no  chance  of  crushing  Bolshevism.  I  have  a 
conjectural  interpretation  of  Savinkov's  act  which  is  probably  very 
near  the  truth,  and  it  is  based  on  the  adventure  of  another  anti-Bol- 
shevik. In  1924,  Vitali  Shulgin,  a  Russian  Monarchist  politician  and 
writer,  entered  Russia.  We  know  this  story  because  it  has  been  told 
authentically.  Shulgin  had  left  Russia  in  1920.  In  the  same  year,  his 
son  who  fought  in  the  White  armies  was  reported  missing.  After  that, 
Shulgin  lived  in  European  exile.  In  1923,  a  Russian  came  to  him  with 
a  letter  of  introduction  and  informed  him  that  his  son  was  living  in 
Soviet  Russia  under  an  assumed  name.  Did  he  want  to  see  him?  Yes, 
but  how  could  he?  Well,  he  could  go  to  Russia  illegally.  There  were 
many  Monarchists  in  Russia  who  would  be  glad  to  see  him.  In  fact, 
there  might  be  an  opportunity  of  restoring  the  Czars.  Shulgin  was 
eager  to  accept.  But  his  informant  told  him  that  the  road  was  diffi- 
cult and  expensive.  Shulgin  borrowed  the  money.  His  new  friend 
escorted  him  to  the  Polish  city  of  Rovno,  near  the  Soviet  frontier. 
Here  several  fellow-Monarchists  housed  them.  They  told  Shulgin 
he  must  grow  a  beard  to  avoid  detection  and  practice  running  in 
the  woods  in  case  the  GPU  border  guards  should  fire  at  them  as 
they  crept  into  Soviet  territory.  Shulgin  grew  the  beard  and  became 
a  skillful  dodger.  Finally,  they  made  their  way  into  Russia,  avoid- 
ing the  GPU.  His  friend  brought  him  to  Kiev  where  a  number  of 
Monarchists  came  to  see  him.  Shulgin  also  traveled  to  Moscow,  and 
after  looking  up  old  political  associates  he  left  Soviet  Russia  by 
stealth* 

But  Shulgin  learned  later  that  it  was  the  GPU  that  had  arranged 
every  detail  of  his  "illegal"  trip.  The  Russian  who  originally  sug- 
gested the  idea  was  a  GPU  agent.  He  had  advised  on  the  beard  and 


PERSONAL  121 

the  running  exercise  to  make  the  whole  thing  seem  more  plausible. 
The  "Monarchists"  who  talked  with  him  in  Kiev  were  officials  of 
the  GPU.  The  GPU  also  facilitated  his  easy  exit  without  visa.  The 
GPU  did  this  to  find  out  whether  Shulgin  had  any  of  his  own  con- 
tacts in  Russia,  and  the  people  he  interviewed  in  Moscow  were 
caught  in  the  GPU's  net. 

It  seems  certain  that  the  GPU  also  brought  Savinkov  into  Russia. 
He  did  not  suspect  it.  GPU  men  led  him  into  Russia  and  straight 
into  the  arms  of  the  GPU  in  the  house  in  Minsk  where  he  had  ex- 
pected to  find  anti-Soviet  conspirators.  The  purpose  was  to  get  his 
confession  of  past  sins  and  his  tribute  to  Soviet  power. 

The  Encyclopaedia  Britmnica  reports  that  Savinkov  died  in  prison 
in  1925,  the  year  after  his  trial.  The  Soviet  government  made  no 
announcement  of  thfe  fact.  We  in  Moscow  knew  that  he  had  thrown 
himself  out  of  a  window  in  the  top  story  of  the  GPU  prison  on 
Lubianka  Square.  Savinkov,  restless,  dynamic,  adventurous,  could 
not  dwell  in  a  cell  for  ten  years.  He  had  hoped,  Bolsheviks  told  me, 
to  be  reprieved  and  to  give  the  Red  Army  the  benefit  of  his  experi- 
ence as  a  military  leader.  When  he  saw  this  was  an  illusion,  life  lost 
its  meaning  and  he  committed  suicide. 

Not  often  did  sensational  events  like  this  Savinkov  trial  enable 
one  to  get  a  close-up  of  the  Soviet  riddle.  To  know  more  about  it 
I  tried  to  become  acquainted  with  Soviet  statesmen  and  with  ordi- 
nary people.  The  Bolsheviks  were  pleased  to  see  a  serious  approach 
to  the  life  of  their  country.  Moreover,  politicians  talk  freely  when 
they  are  certain  they  will  not  be  quoted— some  politicians,  I  should 
say— and  I  gave  proof  in  Moscow  that  I  could  be  discreet.  What  I 
was  told  in  secret  I  kept  secret.  I  went  on  the  good  journalistic  prin- 
ciple that  a  statesman's  information  is  his  own  until  he  releases  it  for 
publication.  (Death  also  releases.)  Besides,  I  am  good  listener,  and 
most  men  will  talk  about  themselves  or  their  work  to  a  sympathetic 
listener. 

But  the  ordinary  person's  reaction  may  be  a  much  safer  guide  to 
national  sentiment  than  the  views  of  an  official.  The  "man-in-the- 
street,"  however,  rarely  walks  the  streets  of  a  capital  city.  Moscow 
is  not  the  Soviet  Union,  Berlin  is  not  Germany,  Paris  is  certainly 
not  France,  and  Rome  never  was  Italy.  So  I  traveled  a  great  deal, 
and  in  Russia  I  traveled  year  in  and  year  out  to  the  same  towns 
and  villages  to  meet  the  same  workingmen,  minor  officials,  and  peas- 


122  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

ants.  That  enabled  me  to  gain  their  confidence,  to  understand  them 
better,  and  to  make  comparisons.  One  often  goes  to  a  place  the  first 
time  in  order  to  go  there  the  second  time.  I  liked  especially  to  visit 
the  warm  Caucasus.  I  never  go  north  if  I  can  go  south,  and  I  worship 
the  sun.  My  interest  in  oil  politics  took  me  frequently  to  Baku,  the 
hot  city  on  the  salty  Caspian,  "the  finger,"  as  Chicherin  once  said, 
"that  points  to  Asia." 

In  1926,  Oil  Imperialism,  my  first  book,  was  published.  Ernestine 
Evans  called  it  "a  political  detective  story."  It  traces  the  intrigues 
and  schemes  of  governments  and  international  oil  trusts  to  obtain 
control  of  the  oil  fields  of  Russia,  Persia,  and  Turkey.  (Russia's 
petroleum  resources  are  as  great  as  those  of  the  United  States.) 

Oil  moves  navies,  merchant  marines,  automobiles,  factories,  and 
airplanes.  Lord  Curzon,  British  Foreign  Minister,  said  in  November, 
1918,  that  "the  Allies  floated  to  victory  on  a  wave  of  oil." 

I  became  interested  in  oil  politics  during  the  Genoa  Conference 
in  1922.  The  protocols  of  the  conference  show  as  little  reference 
to  petroleum  as  to  helium  gas.  Officially,  none  of  the  world's  diplo- 
mats who  attended  the  sessions  ever  mentioned  oil.  Nevertheless,  oil 
was  the  key  to  its  deliberations.  Samuel  Spewack  first  called  attention 
to  this  fact  in  sensational  dispatches  from  Genoa  to  the  New  York 
World.  Sir  Henri  Deterding,  of  the  Royal  Dutch  Shell,  and  Walter 
C.  Teagle,  with  whom  I  subsequently  discussed  oil  problems,  never 
came  within  earshot  of  the  conference,  and  lesser  oil  agents  avoided 
the  limelight  while  they  pulled  wires  unseen.  But  when  one  fol- 
lowed the  wires,  and  fitted  together  the  pieces  of  the  puzzle  it  became 
obvious  that  Moscow's  refusal  to  surrender  its  oil  wealth  was  the 
bar  to  a  reconciliation  between  Russia  and  the  rest  of  Europe.  The 
oil  companies  stood  in  the  way  of  a  diplomatic  settlement.  Genoa 
was  part  of  an  intriguing  network.  Petrol  magnates  hampered  states- 
men and  inspired  statesmen. 

I  worked  on  the  book  for  eight  months,  starting  in  Moscow,  con- 
tinuing in  Berlin  and  London,  and  finishing  in  New  York.  I  ran- 
sacked libraries  in  two  continents. 

I  met  many  oil  men.  They  talked  little  and  knew  a  lot.  Mr.  Boris 
Said,  for  instance,  represented  the  Standard  Oil  in  London.  Quite 
casually,  one  day,  he  suggested  that  there  was  in  the  Soviet  Embassy 
in  London  a  letter  from  the  British  Foreign  office  showing  how  Lord 
Curzon  had  attempted  to  obtain  a  concession,  from  the  Soviet  gov- 
ernment for  the  Royal  Dutch  Shell,  Standard's  rival.  I  persuaded 


PERSONAL  123 

Counsellor  Bogomolov  to  give  me  the  letter  and  printed  it.  Mr.  Ivy 
Lee,  the  Rockefellers'  clever  counsel  on  public  relations,  also  helped 
me  with  information  and  documents.  Publication  served  his  pur- 
poses and  mine,  too. 

Oil  Imperialism  was  published  in  New  York  and  London  and 
translated  into  French,  German,  and  Russian.  The  income  from 
the  book  was  small  yet  by  my  standards  substantial.  As  an  author,  I 
got  more  lecture  dates  in  the  United  States.  More  people  had  heard 
my  name  even  if  they  had  not  read  the  book,  and  my  journalistic 
work  was  thereby  facilitated. 

Unfortunately  but  naturally,  the  fact  that  an  official  has  seen  your 
name  in  print  may  mean  all  the  difference  between  an  interview 
and  no  interview,  or  between  talkativeness  and  reticence.  A  card  of 
introduction  from  a  chance  acquaintance  may  open  a  diplomat's  door 
which  all  your  knowledge  of  his  subject  could  not  unlock.  Indeed, 
even  the  print  on  the  card  may  make  a  difference.  Once  I  was  talk- 
ing in  the  German  Foreign  Office  on  the  Wilhelmstrasse  with  M. 
Schlesinger,  in  charge  ,of  commercial  negotiations  with  the  Soviet 
government.  A  liveried  attendant  brought  in  a  card  and  handed  it 
to  Schlesinger.  "But  who  is  he?"  Schlesinger  said,  with  some  irrita- 
tion. "I  don't  know  him."  The  lackey  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Then 
Schlesinger  moved  his  finger  back  and  forth  over  the  name  on  the 
card.  The  letters  were  embossed.  "All  right,"  he  instructed  the 
lackey,  "ask  him  to  wait." 

This  reminds  me  of  an  interview  I  had  with  Joseph  P.  Kennedy, 
U.  S.  Ambassador  in  London,  in  October,  1939.  I  thought  it  might 
be  interesting  to  listen  in  wartime  to  an  American  ambassador  of 
the  Roosevelt  administration  who  had  out-Chamberlained  Neville 
Chamberlain  during  pre-War  appeasement.  I  telephoned  for  an  ap- 
pointment and  received  it.  As  I  was  about  to  enter  the  ambassador's 
office,  Bill  Hillman,  formerly  of  the  Hearst  news  service,  now  Euro- 
pean representative  for  Collier's  Magazine  and  NBC,  walked  out, 
and  we  quickly  arranged  to  meet  that  same  evening  at  the  Caf6 
Royal.  Inside,  Mr.  Kennedy's  bespectacled,  strawberry-colored  face 
wore  a  bored  look,  as  if  to  say,  "What  does  this  fellow  want?  Why 
does  he  come  to  bother  me?"  I  was  sure  he  had  never  heard  of  me 
and  was  merely  seeing  me  as  a  courtesy  to  an  American  journalist.  I 
tried  to  make  him  talk.  I  asked  questions  about  the  situation  in  Eng- 
land and  he  said,  "You  can  know  as  much  about  that  as  I  do."  I 
asked  him  about  certain  official  acts  of  the  British  government  and 


124  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

he  said,  "If  I  knew,  I  wouldn't  tell  you."  I  attempted  to  tell  him 
something  and  he  showed  lack  of  interest.  After  about  fifteen  min- 
utes of  this,  I  felt  I  was  wasting  my  time  and  his,  when  suddenly 
his  whole  manner  changed.  He  spoke  freely  and  fluently,  expressed 
his  views  on  Germany's  power  and  on  the  differences  in  the  British 
cabinet,  answered  queries,  asked  me  about  Russia,  Germany,  and 
Turkey,  complimented  me  on  my  analysis  of  European  affairs,  and 
said  he  would  get  my  books  and  would  like  to  hear  me  lecture.  I 
stayed  for  forty-five  minutes  after  the  first  horrid  quarter  of  an 
hour  and  we  parted  cordially. 

In  the  evening  at  the  cafe,  Hillman  said,  "Did  you  notice  the  note 
I  sent  in  to  Kennedy?"  I  did  remember  that  at  one  moment  in  the 
interview  the  ambassador's  kindly  old  secretary  brought  in  an  odd- 
shaped  slip  of  white  paper  on  which  I  could  see  a  large  pencil  scrawl. 
"Yes,"  said  Hillman,  "I  wrote,  'Fischer  is  an  interesting  fellow.  Talk 
to  him.' "  Hillman  was  a  veteran  London  newspaperman  who  saw 
Kennedy  almost  every  day.  He  could  permit  himself  such  liberties 
with  the  ambassador  and  the  ambassador  could  trust  him.  It  was 
only  after  he  read  Hillman's  message  that  Kennedy  became  com- 
municative. 

Before  writing  Oil  Imperialism,  I  visited  Baku,  the  largest  oil  city 
in  the  world.  I  traveled  with  Paul  Scheffer,  of  the  Berliner  Tage- 
blatt.  Scheffer,  working  for  this  liberal,  democratic,  Jewish-owned, 
and  Jewish-edited  German  daily,  was  a  pro-Soviet  German  Nation- 
alist. He  was  pro-Soviet  because  of  his  German  nationalism.  Ger- 
many's defeat  in  1918  convinced  him,  as  it  had  convinced  his  ambas- 
sador in  Moscow,  Count  Brockdorff-Rantzau,  that  Germany's  salva- 
tion lay  in  Russia,  red  or  white.  Rantzau  descended  from  an  old 
Prussian  noble  line.  His  very  tall,  straight  figure,  his  long,  thin  pale 
face,  his  sparse  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  his  high,  stiff  wing  collar, 
his  abhorrence  of  physical  movement,  his  love  of  classic  allusion  and 
philosophical  digressions  during  political  conversation,  and  the  clois- 
tered womanless  life  he  led  with  his  twin  brother— all  these  stamped 
him  the  aloof  aristocrat.  He  recoiled  from  fleshy,  smelly,  earthy 
Moscow  and  the  heavy  tongues,  heavy  boots,  and  heavy  manners 
of  average  Bolsheviks.  I  saw  him  often  through  the  years  in  his  Mos- 
cow embassy  or  his  home  near  the  Tiergarten,  Berlin,  and  he  always 
gave  the  impression  of  being  above  the  storms  and  stresses  of  life. 
Yet  his  whole  post-War  political  career  was  based  on  German-Soviet 


PERSONAL  125 

collaboration.  Under  his  seemingly  casual  glance,  German  army 
officers  supervised  the  manufacture  of  airplanes,  tanks,  hand  grenades, 
and  other  munitions  in  Soviet  factories  because  Anglo-French  stipu- 
lations prevented  them  from  being  produced  in  Germany.  He  tried 
to  foster  Russo-German  trade  and  understanding.  Scheffer  tried  to 
help. 

Scheffer  was  the  ruddy,  rotund,  round-headed  Rhinelander— a 
connoisseur  of  wine  and  food.  Rantzau  preferred  whiskey.  Both  alike 
endeavored  to  put  love  of  country  above  the  sharp  distinctions  which 
separated  the  German  Republic  from  the  Soviet  regime.  Scheffer 
inveighed  against  the  Bolshevik  dictatorship  and  argued  that  the  back- 
wardness and  innate  cruelty  of  the  Russian  made  possible  a  rigor- 
ous repression  which  the  culture  of  Germans  ruled  out.  Yet  he 
favored  an  eastern  orientation  of  German  diplomacy  and  sought 
to  convert  Berlin  statesmanship  to  his  and  Rantzau's  policy. 

Scheffer  and  I  traveled  together  in  the  same  railway  compart- 
ment for  two  and  a  half  days  from  Moscow  to  Tiflis.  We  flew  to- 
gether to  Baku,  rode  horses  together  along  mountain  trails,  slept 
in  the  same  room  in  the  Oriente  Hotel  in  Tiflis,  and  did  most  of 
our  journalistic  work  in  common  during  that  six-week  Caucasus  tour. 
In  subsequent  years,  we  met  frequently,  indeed  regularly,  in  Mos- 
cow to  eat  and  argue  and  exchange  information  and  opinions. 

(On  January  i,  1936,  Ambassador  William  E.  Dodd  gave  a  New 
Year's  party  in  the  United  States  Embassy  in  Berlin.  I  was  talking 
to  Mrs.  Dodd  when  Scheffer  came  up,  greeted  her,  and  kissed  her 
hand.  He  did  not  know  me;  he  had  become  the  editor  of  the  Nazi- 
fied,  Hitlerized,  Berliner  Tageblatt.) 

Scheffer  and  I  took  our  Caucasus  trip  to  see  Baku  but  also  to  in- 
vestigate conditions  in  Georgia  where  a  Menshevik  uprising  had  just 
taken  place  against  the  Bolshevik  regime.  Reports  reaching  foreign 
papers  said  it  had  been  suppressed  after  much  bloodshed. 

The  Caucasus,  cradle  of  the  white  race,  is  a  museum  of  nationali- 
ties. Here  live  Georgians  who  claim  kinship  with  the  Basques  of 
Spain  (Lloyd  George  once  told  me  that  the  Basques  and  Welsh  were 
related);  Moslem  Turks  in  Azerbaijan;  Armenians  made  hot  by 
the  winds  of  the  Persian  desert  and  cool  by  the  breezes  from  two- 
humped  Ararat;  Kurds  near  Batum;  Circassians  of  Greek  blood  near 
the  Black  Sea;  mountain  Jews  who  speak  ancient  Hebrew;  Osse- 
tians;  Dagestanians;  Abhazi;  Adjari;  and  literally  hundreds  more. 
Many  of  these  races  still  practice  the  blood  feud.  The  Swannetians 


126  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

saw  airplanes  fly  over  their  mountain  fastnesses  before  they  had 
reached  the  wheel  stage  of  culture.  To  all  these  peoples  Bolshevism 
brought  schools,  cleanliness,  centralized  government,  and  peace. 
Czarism  sometimes  fanned  tribal  hates  so  that  it  might  rule  the  di- 
vided. Under  Bolshevism,  in  contrast,  Armenians  intermarry  with 
Tatars—which  is  like  saying  that  the  southern  colonel's  daughter 
married  a  Negro— and  other  ancient  enemies  are  mingling  their  bloods 
and  talents.  The  Bolsheviks  gave  this  welter  of  nations  perfect  cul- 
tural freedom  but  no  political  or  economic  independence.  There 
are  native  officials,  and  the  local  resources  are  developed  to  the  full- 
est. But  Moscow  rules  the  furthest  crag  and  corner. 

Women  in  Baku  still  wore  the  veil  in  1924,  and  mullahs  taught 
boys  the  Koran  in  the  sing-song  I  had  heard  in  Cairo,  Jerusalem, 
and  Damascus.  "May  God  give  me  fleshiness,"  those  women  prayed, 
"rosiness  I  can  buy  for  myself."  They  lived  for  men,  and  tastes  dif- 
fer with  climes.  But  the  chains  were  falling  with  the  veils,  and  thei 
new  woman  paced  the  street  in  boy's  cap  and  short  skirt  with  a 
volume  of  Marx  under  her  arm  and  a  worker  on  it,  while  her  cov- 
ered sister  slipped  quickly  from  harem  to  shop  and  back. 

In  the  mountains  of  Georgia,  Scheffer  and  I  saw  Hevsurs  who 
wear  coats  of  mail  and  claim  to  be  descendants  of  the  Crusaders.  At 
a  church  in  Allahverdi,  eastern  Georgia,  we  heard  troubadours  ex- 
temporize ballads  to  tunes  from  their  two-string  instruments  inlaid 
with  mother-of-pearl.  Stately  couples,  dressed  in  velvets  and  em- 
broidery handed  down  through  generations,  performed  wild  tribal 
dances  in  a  provincial  marriage  mart  that  assembled  around  the 
church  now  closed  by  decree.  Into  this  strange  world,  the  Bolshe- 
viks injected  Bolshevism.  Their  caution  notwithstanding,  explosions 
had  to  take  place.  In  Georgia,  one  out  of  every  seven  inhabitants 
was  a  prince  like  the  Mdivanis,  which  meant  that  he  was  a  peasant 
who  owned  a  three-room  house  on  stilts  and  a  horse  and  two  goats. 
This  little  capitalist  objected  to  socialist  encroachment.  Working- 
men^  raised  in  the  traditionally  strong  Menshevism  of  Georgia,  ab- 
horred Bolshevism.  Moreover,  the  Georgian  had  a  passionate  dislike 
for  the  Russian,  Stalin  and  Orjonekidze  might  rule  in  Moscow,  but 
Moscow  remained  Russian  and  the  nationalities  on  the  periphery 
had  not  yet  made  their  peace  with  federalism.  Scheffer  and  I  were 
being  toasted  in  a  wine  cellar  at  Tsinandali  on  an  estate  confiscated 
from  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas.  The  head  of  the  GPU  lifted  a 
ram's  horn  filled  with  claret  and  said,  "To  our  three  guests." 


PERSONAL  127 

"But,"  demurred  Tchaikovsky,  commander  of  the  Red  Army 
cavalry  brigade  of  the  district,  "I  am  not  a  guest." 

"Russians  are  always  guests  here,"  the  toastmaster  replied. 

This  was  the  background  of  the  insurrection  we  were  investigat- 
ing, and  it  was  the  background,  too,  for  a  study  of  the  vast  task 
undertaken  by  the  new  regime.  Journalistic  work  in  such  a  country 
taught  one  history,  psychology,  government,  economics,  ethnogra- 
phy, geography;  a  university  education  free.  New  situations  regularly 
challenged  the  mind. 

I  devoted  much  time  to  internal  Soviet  problems,  read  Marx  and 
Lenin,  read  more  than  I  wrote.  But  my  pet  subject  remained  foreign 
policy.  I  decided  to  write  a  history  of  Soviet  foreign  affairs.  I  ex- 
pected to  do  it  in  eight  months.  It  took  three  years  and  grew  inro 
two  big  volumes. 

My  task  in  preparing  the  book  involved  picking  the  brains  and 
memories  of  Bolsheviks  who  had  formulated  and  administered  Soviet 
foreign  policy.  These  included  Chicherin,  Foreign  Commissar,  Lit- 
vinov  and  Karakhan,  assistant  commissars,  Soviet  ambassadors  like 
Krestinsky,  Sokolnikov,  and  Rakovsky. 

Maxim  Litvinov  is  the  coldest  Bolshevik  realist.  Slogans  never 
misled  him.  He  has  cast  off  all  illusions.  "The  prospect  of  world 
revolution  disappeared  on  November  n,  1918,"  he  said  to  me.  The 
corollary  was  that  the  prospect  might  reappear  when  a  second  war 
commenced.  Bukharin  and  others  held  this  thesis,  but  Stalin  frowned 
on  it. 

Litvinov  would  always  accept  a  compromise  if  the  alternative 
meant  hurting  the  nation  for  a  principle.  Yet  he  is  a  fighter  and 
several  times  refused  to  yield  to  Stalin.  He  won  his  point  against 
Stalin;  indeed,  Soviet  foreign  policy  between  1929  and  May,  1939, 
followed  the  pattern  of  Litvinov's  mind  more  than  of  his  chiefs.  In 
the  last  two  years  during  which  Litvinov  was  Foreign  Minister— 
1937  to  1939— this  was  due  to  inertia  and  the  absence  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  launch  a  different  policy. 

Litvinov's  foreign  policy  was  to  avoid  trouble.  Truest  revolution- 
ist, he  wished  to  keep  Soviet  Russia  at  peace  so  it  could  develop 
internally.  He  did  not  want  to  spend  money  on  a  Red  fleet,  he  told 
me.  He  sought  to  develop  Soviet  foreign  trade.  He  endeavored  to 
enhance  Moscow's  prestige  by  Soviet  participation  in  conferences, 
pacts,  and  agreements.  Disarmament  at  Geneva  was  his  "baby."  Chi- 


128  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

cherin  never  liked  it.  Assistant  Commissar  Litvinov  fought  for  Soviet 
adherence  to  the  Kellogg  Pact.  Chicherin,  the  Commissar,  fought 
against  this.  The  Soviets  adhered.  It  did  no  good,  and  Litvinov  did 
not  expect  war  to  be  outlawed.  But  he  wanted  Moscow  to  appear 
on  the  world  stage. 

It  used  to  be  a  subject  of  mirth  with  my  friends  among  the  younger 
Soviet  officials  that  if  Chicherin  said  "Yes"  Litvinov  would  say  "No" 
and  vice  versa.  Yet  the  two  of  them  worked  in  the  same  office  to- 
ward the  same  goal.  Chicherin  carried  over  into  Soviet  diplomacy 
some  of  the  traditional  Russian  suspicion  of  the  British  Raj  in  Cen- 
tral Asia.  Persia  and  Afghanistan  were  important  to  him,  and  to 
Stalin,  and  to  Lenin.  Indeed,  Stalin,  the  Georgian,  was  more  Great 
Russian  than  many  Russians,  just  as  Hitler,  the  Austrian,  was  the 
real  Greater  German.  Maxim  Litvinov,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a 
westerner  and  he  simply  did  not  see  the  wisdom  of  spoiling  Russia's 
relations  with  European  powers  for  the  sake  of  Soviet  influence  in 
small  Asiatic  countries.  He  said  to  me  in  March,  1929,  "I  think  an 
agreement  with  England  about  Afghanistan  and  the  East  generally 
is  possible,  but  the  government  takes  a  different  view." 

On  August  9,  1929,  at  the  end  of  a  long  interview  with  Litvinov  in 
the  Berlin  Soviet  Embassy,  I  told  him  I  was  going  down  to  Wies- 
baden, Germany,  to  see  Chicherin.  Litvinov  said,  "Is  that  so?"  And 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  added,  "His  memory  isn't  as  good  as 
it  used  to  be."  In  fact,  Chicherin's  memory  remained  startlingly  pho- 
tographic. Rivalry  and  jealousy  heightened  differences  of  tempera- 
ment and  culture  into  clashes  of  policy.  It  was  so  in  the  conflict 
between  Stalin  and  Trotzky,  too.  It  is  difficult  to  determine  where 
the  personal  leaves  off,  and  die  political  begins. 

Statesmen,  and  kings  and  queens  and  presidents,  are  human  and 
may  be  petty.  Chicherin  was  queer  and  a  genius.  He  usually  re- 
mained above  the  battle  in  a  world  partly  of  his  own  private  co;n-i 
straction.  But  Litvinov  is  full-blooded,  virile,  and  tempestuous.  He 
never  likes  big  men  around  him,  and  when  he  became  Commissar, 
succeeding  Chicherin,  in  1930,  he  managed  to  get  rid  of  Gregory 
Sokolnikov  and  Leo  Karakhan,  both  assistant  commissars  and  both 
extremely  well-connected  in  the  highest  Soviet  spheres.  Sokolnikov 
was  sometimes  summoned  to  Politbureau  meetings  to  give  advice 
on  financial  and  international  questions.  Litvinov  did  not  like  that. 
Karakhan  hobnobbed  with  the  Caucasians  on  the  upper  level,  Anas- 
tasias  Mikoyan,  Ordjonekidze,  and  Stalin.  That  gave  him  the  possi- 


PERSONAL  129 

bility  of  going  over  Litvinov's  head.  So  Karakhan  was  sent  away  as 
Ambassador  to  Ankara. 

Nor  did  Litvinov  have  any  affection  for  journalists.  He  unbent 
a  little  in  Geneva  and  other  foreign  cities,  but  in  Moscow  it  was 
almost  as  hard  to  get  to  him  as  to  Stalin.  Journalists  know  too  much, 
he  used  to  explain,  and  interfere  too  much.  It  took  me  a  long  time 
to  win  his  confidence. 

Litvinov  saw  me  in  his  office  but  more  frequently1  in  his  home 
in  the  "Sugar  King's  Palace."  This  was  a  big  villa  on  the  bank  of 
the  Moskva  River  just  opposite  the  Czar's  palace  in  the  Kremlin. 
Here  the  Soviet  government  had  housed  prominent  foreigners  like 
Enver  Pasha;  Claire  Sheridan,  the  British  sculptress  and  friend,  at 
one  time,  of  Leo  Kamenev;  Sidney  Hillman  of  the  Amalgamated 
Clothing  Workers'  Union;  and  others.  Later  it  became  the  British 
Embassy.  Built  by  a  pre-revolutionary  Russian  millionaire  it  bore 
the  marks  of  Czarist  culture;  it  was  ornate,  huge,  gaudy,  dark 
downstairs  and  bright  upstairs,  and  appointed  with  expensive  French 
period  furniture,  clocks,  china,  and  innumerable  paintings  by  Euro- 
pean artists.  A  cellar  and  two  detached  wings  had  furnished  quar- 
ters for  the  sugar  king's  servants.  For  a  while,  I  lived  in  part  of  one 
wing  with  my  family.  Our  neighbor  was  Rita  Klymeri,  correspondent 
of  the  London  Daily  Express,  whom  the  Bolsheviks  expelled  for 
using  offensive  language  against  the  Red  Army.  This  palace  and 
scores  of  other  Moscow  villas  had  been  expropriated  by  die  Soviets; 
they  were  administered  by  the  Bureaubin  which  rented  them  to  em- 
bassies and  individual  foreigners. 

Litvinov  occupied  three  rooms  in  the  second  story  of  the  main 
house  with  his  wife  Ivy,  British-born,  a  lively,  witty,  and  acute 
woman.  They  had  two  children,  Misha,  aged  thirteen  in  1929,  a 
wild  boy,  and  Tania,  aged  eleven  in  1929,  a  beautiful,  shy  girl.  Often 
when  Litvinov  came  home  in  the  evening  he  would  have  to  listen 
to  tales  of  Misha's  fights  and  escapades.  Ivy  could  not  manage  Misha 
and  left  the  trying  job  to  the  burly,  irate  commissar  father.  But 
Litvinov  loved  his  children.  Occasionally,  Tania  would  sit  in  his  lap 
and  Misha  by  his  side  while  he  told  me  of  his  meetings  with  Briand, 
Chamberlain,  and  Lloyd  George.  Litvinov  likes  the  movies  and  goes 
to  them  often  in  Moscow  and  abroad.  He  would  take  Misha  and 
Tania  and  explain  the  captions  and  plots  to  them.  Misha  grew  up  to 
be  a  tall,  lanky  youth  studying  engineering,  and  Tania  is  an  artist. 

Litvinov  knows  English  well  but  speaks  it  with  a  horrible  accent. 


130  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

At  League  of  Nations  meetings  in  Geneva  all  the  delegates  and 
correspondents  would  troop  into  the  hall  when  Litvinov  rose  to 
deliver  an  address,  for  he  invariably  said  something  curt  and  pro- 
found which  gave  endless  pleasure  to  the  bulk  of  the  journalists' 
corps  by  expressing  their  cynical  disrespect  of  the  fatuous,  self- 
defeating,  pusillanimous  anti-war  efforts  of  the  League.  But  how 
the  audience  strained  to  understand  Litvinov!  He  talks  quickly  on 
the  platform  and  swallows  at  least  one  syllable  in  each  word.  He 
wrote  every  one  of  these  speeches— rare  feat  for  a  statesman— wrote 
them  in  Russian  and  had  them  translated  into  English  by  Ivy  or 
Andrew  Rothstein.  Owner  of  a  great  mind,  Litvinov  is  cruelly  crit- 
ical of  blunders  and  intellectual  folly,  and  his  subordinates  often 
feared  to  go  before  him  to  report.  But  they  admired  him  and  he  was 
loyal  to  them,  and  many  remained  in  the  commissariat  for  long  years 
until  the  purge  took  them  from  him. 

Litvinov  had  told  me  the  story  of  Soviet  foreign  relations  as  far 
as  the  important  Anglo-Russian  conference  in  Lodon  in  1924.  But 
when  he  finished  discussing  these  negotiations  he  added,  "I  have  told 
you  everything  I  remember.  The  man  who  really  knows  what  hap- 
pened is  Rakovsky." 

"But  Rakovsky,"  I  protested,  "is  in  exile." 

"Go  see  him,"  he  snapped  in  his  characteristic  bark. 

I  was  startled  by  this  suggestion  from  a  commissar  to  visit  a 
banished  Trotzkyist.  "How  can  I  find  him?"  I  asked. 

"He  is  somewhere  in  Saratov.  His  daughter  can  give  you  the 
exact  address,"  Litvinov  advised. 

Rakovsky's  daughter  was  married  to  the  Soviet  poet  Utkin.  She 
bubbled  with  joy  when  I  called  and  told  her  of  my  proposed  journey. 
She  gave  me  her  parents'  address  and  begged  me  to  take  a  letter 
and  a  suitcase  of  books  to  them. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  although  Rakovsky  knew  me  he 
might  not  reveal  important  unpublished  matter  to  me  unless  he  was 
sure  that  Chicherin,  Litvinov,  and  others  were  doing  likewise.  I 
regarded  Rakovsky  as  a  loyal  Bolshevik  despite  his  official  sins  and 
did  not  expect  him  to  disclose  diplomatic  secrets  without  permis- 
sion. I  went  to  Litvinov  with  these  doubts. 

"But  what  do  you  expect  of  me?"  he  replied.  "I  cannot  write  a 
letter  of  recommendation  for  you  to  a  banished  Trotzkyist." 

"Then  there  isn't  much  point  in  going,"  I  said  sadly. 


PERSONAL  131 

"Well,"  Litvinov  said,  "let  me  think  about  it." 

Two  days  later  a  courier  brought  me  a  letter.  I  still  have  it.  It  was 
signed  by  Litvinov  and  addressed,  not  to  Rakovsky,  but  to  Feodor 
Rothstein,  Litvinov's  assistant  and  chief  of  the  press  department  of 
the  foreign  office.  Litvinov  asked  Rothstein  to  give  every  possible 
assistance  to  me  in  the  preparation  of  my  book  on  Soviet  foreign 
policy.  Rakovsky  would  know  that  this  letter  was  intended  for  him 
first  because  a  letter  from  Litvinov  to  Rothstein  would  otherwise 
not  be  in  my  hands,  and,  secondly,  if  Litvinov  wanted  to  give  such 
instructions  to  Rothstein  he  would  give  them  orally,  for  they  met 
a  dozen  times  each  day.  Their  offices  were  just  one  floor  apart. 

I  arrived  in  Saratov,  ancient  Volga  town.  I  was  so  busy  that  I 
never  saw  the  Volga  during  the  eight  days  I  spent  there.  On  the 
black  bulletin  board  of  Saratov's  best  hotel,  on  which  guests'  names 
were  written  in  chalk,  I  read  "Christian  G.  Rakovsky"  and  again 
"Christian  G.  Rakovsky."  He  had  two  rooms. 

I  knocked  at  Rakovsky's  door.  Rakovsky  had  studied  and  prac- 
ticed medicine  in  France  before  the  Revolution.  He  possessed  great 
erudition.  He  had  been  Soviet  Ambassador  in  London  and  Paris.  I 
had  seen  him  last  in  the  London  Embassy.  The  Soviet  government 
maintains  its  foreign  diplomats  in  the  grand  style  befitting  their  sta- 
tion and  their  exposed  position  in  the  bourgeois  world.  They  live 
in  fine  villas,  drive  in  big  limousines,  serve  sumptuous  meals,  and 
arrange  great  receptions.  In  London,  Rakovsky  donned  silk  breeches 
and  attended  royal  parties  in  Buckingham  Palace.  When  I  knocked 
at  his  door  in  Saratov  he  came  out  in  a  vest  and  stocking  feet.  He 
had  been  sleeping.  I  explained  the  purpose  of  my  visit  and  pulled 
out  Litvinov's  letter.  He  glanced  at  it  hurriedly  and  pushing  his  lips 
upward  into  a  scornful  expression  handed  it  back,  saying,  "I  don't 
need  that." 

Then  began  eight  exciting  days.  I  would  come  to  Rakovsky's  room 
at  noon.  He  would  talk  to  me  for  two  hours  while  I  took  down  the 
voluminous  notes  that  now  lie  on  my  desk.  Then  he  would  go  to 
lunch.  Sometimes  I  walked  with  him  to  the  lunchroom;  men  would 
bow  as  he  passed  and  raise  their  hats.  For  this  political  criminal  in 
exile  was  the  most  prominent  and,  I  suspect,  the  most  revered  resi- 
dent of  Saratov.  I  would  come  back  to  his  room  at  six  in  the  eve- 
ning, when  he  resumed  the  thrilling  narrative.  At  about  seven,  a 
young  man  would  come  in,  nod,  sit  down,  and  listen.  A  few  minutes 


132  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

later,  another  man  entered,  and  another.  By  seven-thirty,  six  or 
seven  people  were  in  the  room.  These  were  Rakovsky's  fellow  exiles 
gathering  daily  to  exchange  views  with  their  leader.  He  would  then 
suggest  that  I  excuse  him  and  return  at  midnight.  Midnight!  I  like 
to  keep  regular  hours.  Fresh  as  a  young  man,  Rakovsky,  aged  fifty- 
six,  would  start  at  midnight  and  go  on  until  two  in  the  morning. 
Then  the  electricity  in  the  great  provincial  city  of  Saratov  would 
be  turned  off,  and  Rakovsky  would  light  some  candles.  At  three  he 
would  extinguish  them,  for  it  was  morning  and  the  sun  was  rising. 
At  four  he  would  say,  "Well,  I  suppose  you  want  to  go  to  bed."  I 
did. 

In  Rakovsky's  room  stood  a  tremendous  trunk  full  of  documents 
and  letters.  I  was  astounded  to  find  that  he  had  been  able  to  take  to 
Saratov  the  secret  protocols  of  the  Anglo-Soviet  conference  in  Lon- 
don in  1924.  He  allowed  me  to  copy  what  I  wanted  out  of  them 
and  this  material  was  first  published  in  The  Soviets  in  World  Affairs. 
He  also  had  with  him  seven  letters  he  had  received  from  Chicherin. 
They  were  all  written  in  pencil  between  March  and  May,  1919, 
when  Rakovsky  was  Prime  Minister  of  Soviet  Ukraine,  and  Ra- 
kovsky was  sure  Chicherin  had  never  made  carbons.  Two  of  the 
letters  dealt  with  William  Christian  Bullitt's  mission  to  Moscow  in 
1919,  and  the  others  with  secret  Polish  overtures  to  Moscow.  Bul- 
litt  had  been  sent  by  President  Wilson  to  Lenin  to  patch  up  a  peace 
with  Russia.  Young  Bullitt  acquitted  himself  nobly.  Accompanied 
by  Walter  Pettit  of  the  U.  S.  Military  Intelligence  Service  and  Lin- 
coln Steff  ens,  he  saw  Lenin,  Chicherin,  and  Litvinov.  Chicherin  wrote 
to  Rakovsky  urging  him  to  support  an  understanding  with  the  Allies. 
"The  decision  is  very  important,"  he  declared.  "If  we  don't  try  to  get 
an  agreement  the  policy  of  blockade  will  be  pressed  with  vigor.  They 
will  send  tanks  ...  to  Denikin,  Kolchak,  Petlura,  Paderewski.  .  .  . 
We  want  [the  Allied  troops  of  intervention]  evacuated  before  the 
signing  of  the  peace.  .  .  .  They  want  us  to  reduce  our  army  before 
that."  Four  days  later  Chicherin  informed  Rakovsky  that  Bullitt 
"does  not  believe  that  big  concessions  can  be  won  for  us  in  Paris. 
But  he  hopes  to  carry  this  proposal  through.  ,  .  .  France  knows 
nothing  about  it:  This  must  be  kept  absolutely  secret."  The  Soviets 
were  eager  for  an  agreement  with  the  Allies,  and  Bullitt  left  with 
decided  pro-Bolshevik  sympathies.  But  when  he  returned  to  Paris 
he  found  that  Woodrow  Wilson  "had  a  headache"  and  refused  to 
receive  his  own  emissary.  Nothing  came  of  the  entire  mission.  Wil- 


PERSONAL  133 

son,  according  to  Colonel  House,  was  too  preoccupied  with  the  Ger- 
man peace  to  think  of  Russia.  That  was  unfortunate  because  peace 
was  indivisible,  even  before  Litvinov  coined  the  phrase  years  later. 

Rakovsky  had  a  marvelous  memory,  and  what  he  could  not  rec- 
ollect he  was  often  able  to  reconstruct  on  the  basis  of  documents.  He 
would  dig  for  them  in  his  suitcases  and  trunks,  and  if  he  failed  to 
find  what  he  wanted  he  would  go  into  the  adjoining  room,  wake  his 
wife,  and  ask  her  about  such-and-such  a  file,  and  she,  rather  than 
leave  it  to  him,  would  put  on  a  dressing  gown,  come  in  sleepy-eyed 
but  smiling,  with  some  disparaging  remark  about  the  helplessness  of 
the  male  sex,  and  take  up  the  search  herself. 

In  accordance  with  the  accepted  code,  I  avoided  references  to 
Soviet  party  politics.  A  Bolshevik  normally  skirts  around  this  sub- 
ject in  conversation  with  foreigners  who  are  not  Communists.  (Ra- 
dek  made  an  exception  with  me  and  so,  occasionally,  did  Chicherin.) 
One  afternoon,  however,  Rakovsky  himself  broke  the  rule.  There 
had  been  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  hotel  manager,  obviously 
pleased  to  have  a  reason  for  seeing  the  great  man,  delivered  a  tele- 
gram. Rakovsky  opened  it  and  blanched.  After  a  moment,  he  said 
in  a  voice  filled  with  contempt,  "This  is  a  message  from  Radek, 
Smilga,  and  Beloborodov  [leading  Trotzkyists  in  Siberian  exile]. 
They  are  going  to  make  their  peace  with  Stalin,  confess  their  errors, 
return  to  Moscow.  They  want  me  to  join  them.  Never.  I  shall  not 
desert  Trotzky.  I  love  him  personally  and  I  admire  his  policies.  Stalin 
has  betrayed  the  Revolution." 

In  those  mild  and  distant  days,  it  was  enough  for  an  Oppositionist 
to  recant  and  beat  his  breast  publicly  to  be  taken  back  into  the  party. 
But  Rakovsky  was  adamant,  and  he  remained  in  exile  many  more 
years. 

The  telegram  broke  the  ice,  and  thereafter  Rakovsky  spoke  sev- 
eral times  of  internal  party  strife.  He  said  Stalin  had  deported 
Trotzky  as  an  indication  to  foreign  governments  that  the  Kremlin 
intended  to  pursue  a  conservative  foreign  policy  divorced  from  the 
revolutionary  aims  of  the  Third  International. 

Rakovsky  was  part-Rumanian,  part-Bulgarian,  and  the  Bessarabian 
question  interested  him  enormously.  In  his  talks  with  me  in  Saratov 
he  revealed  facts  whose  significance  then  evaded  me  but  which  have 
acquired  new  meaning  in  recent  years.  In  January,  1918,  when  the 
Bolsheviks  were  weak  and  otherwise  occupied,  Rumania  marched 
into  the  Russian  province  of  Bessarabia  and  annexed  it.  Late  in  1920, 


134  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

after  the  Bolsheviks  had  defeated  the  last  of  the  White  generals, 
Frunze,  war  commissar  of  Soviet  Ukraine,  wanted  to  reconquer  Bess- 
arabia. Frunze  was  a  Moldavian.  He  argued  that  it  would  be  hard 
to  demobilize  the  Red  Army  quickly,  that  many  of  the  units  were 
ethnically  Moldavian  and  Bessarabian,  and  that  they  would  partici- 
pate enthusiastically  in  a  war  on  Rumania.  Voroshilov  supported 
Frunze.  Lenin  consulted  Rakovsky,  who  had  studied  the  Bessara- 
bian problem  before  the  Revolution  and  written  a  pamphlet  on  it. 
Rakovsky  opposed  violence.  A  Russian  offensive  against  Rumania 
would  arouse  all  the  major  powers  against  Moscow.  Moreover,  Ra- 
kovsky submitted,  if  Rumania  collapsed  Russia  would  have  an  open 
Balkan  problem  on  her  hands  and  that  would  involve  the  Bolshe- 
viks in  more  than  they  were  then  ready  to  handle  with  their  limited 
resources. 

But  this  did  not  end  the  matter.  In  the  summer  of  1921,  Trotzky 
proposed  recognizing  Bessarabia  as  part  of  Rumania  and  closing  the 
open  wound.  Rakovsky  demurred.  He  argued  that  by  keeping  the 
Bessarabian  problem  unsolved  Moscow  could  keep  Rumania  per- 
manently on  tenterhooks  and  thus  influence  the  whole  Balkan  situa- 
tion. Bulgaria  was  anti-Rumania  and  so,  to  an  extent,  was  Yugoslavia; 
by  quietly  opposing  Rumania,  the  Russians  would  win  sympathies 
in  Bulgaria  and  Yugoslavia.  Rakovsky  contended  that  even  Czar- 
ism  had  been  regarded  as  a  liberator  in  the  Balkans;  Bolshevism  could 
play  the  same  role. 

.  At  about  the  same  time— mid-ipzr—  Stalin  telephoned  Rakovsky 
in  Kharkov  and  asked  him  to  come  to  Moscow  for  crucial  delibera- 
tions. Djerzhinsky  sent  a  special  train  to  fetch  Rakovsky.  Lenin  re- 
ceived Rakovsky  with  smiles  and  eager  inquiries.  A  White  general 
named  Sloschov,  who  had  escaped  with  thousands  of  soldiers  from 
Russia  in  1920  was  now  in  Istanbul  (Constantinople)  and  had  of- 
fered to  come  over  to  the  Bolsheviks  and  march  his  army  of  armed 
veterans  from  Constantinople  through  Bulgaria,  Rumania,  and  Bess- 
arabia, conquering  as  he  went  in  the  name  of  Russia.  On  reaching 
the  Ukraine,  Sloschov  would  be  granted  amnesty  by  the  Bolsheviks 
and  receive  a  commission  in  the  Red  Army.  Rakovsky  jumped  at 
the  idea,  and  Lenin  approved  it.  Lenin  chuckled  especially  at  the 
thought  of  taking  Constantinople  from  the  British,  who  were  then 
its  real  masters,  and  restoring  it  to  the  Turks. 
But,  Rakovsky  continued,  the  British  authorities  learned  of  the 


PERSONAL  135 

Sloschov  plan  and  obstructed  it.  Sloschov  later  come  to  Soviet  Rus- 
sia and  joined  the  Red  Army. 

When  the  Turks  were  hard  pressed  by  the  Greeks  in  the  Anatolian 
war  in  1922,  Leon  Trotzky,  Soviet  war  lord,  favored  rendering  them 
unstinted  aid.  Stalin,  Ordjonekidze,  and  other  Georgian  and  Cau- 
casian comrades,  Rakovsky  told  me,  were  afraid,  however,  that  Tur- 
key would  grow  too  strong.  The  Caucasus  borders  on  Turkey,  and 
the  Caucasians  were  therefore  pro-Turk  with  moderation.  They 
recalled  that  in  March,  1921,  Turkish  troops  actually  occupied  Ba- 
tum,  a  seaport  in  Georgia.  It  is  interesting  and  curious  that  such 
regional  considerations  contributed  to  the  formulation  of  Stalin's 
ideas  on  foreign  policy. 

In  1924,  and  on  several  subsequent  occasions,  too,  Litvinov  wished 
to  recognize  Rumanian  sovereignty  over  Bessarabia.  Litvinov  was 
always  the  businessman  in  diplomacy  and  he  did  not  like  to  have 
an  unfinished  account.  Latent  hostility  with  Rumania  made  it  dif- 
ficult for  eastern  Europe  to  settle  down  and  Litvinov  wanted  to 
heal  the  sore.  Rakovsky  and  Litvinov  quarreled  on  this  matter. 
When  Rakovsky  went  as  Ambassador  to  London  he  would  write 
regularly  to  the  Politbureau  in  Moscow  recalling  the  necessity  of 
Russian  watchfulness  in  the  Balkans  and  of  perpetuating  Bessarabia 
as  a  "Soviet  Irredenta."  When  Rakovsky  stopped  writing  on  the 
subject  because  negotiations  with  Great  Britain  absorbed  all  his  time, 
Chicherin  inquired  by  letter  why  Rakovsky  had  left  him  to  fight 
the  battle  alone.  Thanks  to  Chicherin's  and  Rakovsky's  insistent 
propaganda,  the  Soviet  press  on  January  26,  1928,  the  tenth  anni- 
versary of  Rumania's  seizure  of  Bessarabia,  called  Bessarabia  "the 
Alsace  on  the  Dnieper."  Trotzky  and  Litvinov  were  reconciled  to 
its  loss.  Rakovsky,  Chicherin,  and  Stalin  were  not. 

With  the  hindsight  allowed  by  the  passage  of  years  and  in  the 
perspective  of  events  just  before  and  during  the  second  World  War, 
I  find  many  of  Rakovsky's  disclosures  startlingly  revealing.  One  sees 
here  the  first  signs  of  Soviet  expansionism,  the  beginnings  of  the 
conflict  between  Chicherin  and  Litvinov  and  also  the  origins  of  the 
break  between  Stalin  and  Litvinov  in  May,  1939.  Litvinov  had  no 
interest  in  territorial  acquisitions.  Stalin  had.  Indeed,  Stalin's  tendency 
to  extend  Soviet  power  manifested  itself  in  1921.  Then  it  was  ig- 
nored as  a  momentary  aberration.  But  it  evidently  ran  deep. 

In  February,  1921,  Persia  and  Soviet  Russia  signed  a  treaty  of 


136  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

friendship  which  required  Moscow  to  evacuate  the  province  of 
Ghilan  in  northern  Persia.  Red  troops  had  entered  this  province  in 
1920  while  pursuing  counter-revolutionary  units.  Lenin  favored  the 
liberation  of  Ghilan,  especially  since  British  withdrawal  from  south 
Persia  was  contingent  on  Russian  withdrawal  from  the  north,  and  it 
was  in  Moscow's  interest  to  have  a  free,  independent  Persia.  Never- 
theless, Stalin  and  Ordjonekidze,  both  Georgians— Georgia  is  con- 
tiguous with  Persia— sabotaged  the  agreement  and  sent  arms  and 
Soviet  personnel  to  local  chieftains  in  Ghilan  with  exhortations  to 
organize  Soviets. 

Feodor  Rothstein,  then  Soviet  Ambassador  in  Teheran,  wrote  to 
Lenin  protesting  against  these  Georgian  efforts.  He  submitted  that 
Persia  was  poor,  archaic,  and  retarded,  and  had  no  working  class  to 
speak  of.  For  the  Bolsheviks  to  export  a  revolution  to  such  a  country 
would  cause  endless  complications  with  the  Shah  and  England  with- 
out, however,  producing  a  Soviet  Persia.  "It  seems  to  me  you  are 
right,"  Lenin  asserted  in  reply  to  Rothstein. 

Rothstein  thereupon  urged  Riza  Khan,  the  virtual  ruler  of  Persia- 
later  Shah— to  march  into  Ghilan  and  suppress  the  tribal  leaders  and 
notably  a  certain  Kuchik  Khan,  who  had  obtained  support  from 
Georgia.  Kuchik  Khan  was  defeated  and  froze  to  death  hiding  in 
the  mountains.  Riza  cut  off  his  head  and  displayed  it  in  Teheran. 
"Among  the  prisoners  Riza  took,"  Chicherin  told  me,  "were  Russian 
peasants  from  the  province  of  Tula.  Those  were  the  soldiers  of 
Stalin's  Ghilan  Soviet  Republic,"  Chicherin  sneered. 

In  Moscow,  Stalin  stormed.  His  proteg6  had  been  killed.  He 
blamed  Rothstein.  The  question  was  brought  up  at  a  session  of  the 
Politbureau.  A  person  present  at  this  meeting  described  the  scene  to 
me.  Stalin  pressed  his  complaint. 

"Good,"  said  Lenin  with  a  gleam  in  his  eye,  and  he  dictated  to  the 
stenographer.  "Strict  reprimand  to  Comrade  Rothstein  for  killing 
Kuchik  Khan." 

"No,"  someone  said,  "it  was  Riza  who  killed  Kuchik  Khan." 

"Good,"  Lenin  exclaimed.  "Strict  reprimand  to  Riza  Khan  for 
killing  Kuchik  Khan." 

"But  we  cannot  reprimand  Riza.  He  is  not  a  Soviet  citizen,"  Stalin 
objected.  At  this,  Lenin  burst  out  laughing  and  so  did  the  others. 
The  matter  was  dropped.  In  his  tactful  wisdom,  Lenin  had  repri- 
manded Stalin.  In  1939,  no  one  could  reprimand  Stalin. 


PERSONAL  137 

Karakhan  was  in  charge  of  Soviet  relations  with  Asiatic  states. 
Litvinov  watched  over  Europe.  Chicherin  supervised.  Karakhan  was 
himself  an  Asiatic,  a  handsome,  attractive  Armenian,  a  lawyer  by 
training  and  son  of  a  rich  family.  He  had  a  fine  head  of  hair,  a  pitch- 
black,  well-trimmed  beard,  perfectly  manicured  nails,  large  white 
teeth,  a  ready  smile.  He  was  the  best-dressed  Bolshevik.  He  was  free, 
informal,  and  friendly,  and  he  could  laugh  at  himself.  He  once  told 
me  this  story: 

At  the  beginning  of  his  diplomatic  career,  Karakhan  served  as 
secretary  to  the  Soviet  delegation  which  negotiated  the  enforced 
peace  with  the  Kaiser's  government  at  Brest-Litovsk  in  1918.  Trotzky 
had  refused  to  accept  Imperial  Germany's  terms.  "No  peace  and  no 
war."  The  Bolsheviks  would  not  fight  because  they  could  not,  but 
they  would  not  sign  a  humiliating  treaty.  In  reply,  Ludendorff  simply 
ordered  a  German  army  into  Russia.  Thereupon,  Lenin  resumed  the 
negotiations.  Trotzky  refused  to  go  to  Brest-Litovsk.  Joffe,  Sokol- 
hikov,  Chicherin,  and  Karakhan  did  go.  Meanwhile,  however,  the 
Germans  and  their  allies,  the  Turks,  had  increased  their  demands. 
The  Turks  were  now  asking  the  cession  of  Kars,  Erzerum,  and 
Ardagan.  Karakhan  wired  this  information  to  Lenin  and  signed  his 
name.  When  the  telegram  arrived  it  read  that  the  Turks  wanted  Kars, 
Erzerum,  and  Karakhan.  Lenin  laughed  aloud  and  said,  "Well,  that's 
all  right.  I'll  give  them  Karakhan  any  day." 

Karakhan  did  a  good  job  as  Ambassador  in  China.  The  Chinese 
and  most  others  liked  his  cordiality  and  relative  absence  of  restraint. 
He  was  much  younger  than  Chicherin  and  Litvinov.  (He  was  fortyr 
eight  when  Stalin  had  him  executed  in  the  big  purge  of  1937-) 

Once  while  telling  me  about  his  work  in  China,  Karakhan  said, 
"I  have  something  for  you,"  and  went  into  his  inner  office  and 
bfought  out  a  file  of  original  letters  which  he  and  Chicherin  had 
exchanged  with  Dr.  Sun  Yat-sen,  the  father  of  the  Chinese  Nation- 
alist movement.  I  asked  what  I  could  do  with  them,  and  he  replied, 
"Take  them  home  and  copy  them."  I  was  afraid  that  they  might  be 
lost  or  stolen  or  burnt  and  so  I  sat  down  in  his  anteroom  and  made 
the  copies.  I  did  not  publish  them  in  The  Soviets  in  World  Affairs 
because  I  thought  Karakhan  might  get  into  trouble.  One  letter  in 
English,  signed  "L.  Karakhan"  and  dated  Moscow,  September  23, 
1923,  read,  in  part,  "Dear  Dr.  Sun:  The  absence  in  Canton  of  a  per- 
manent and  responsible  representative  of  our  government  has  long 
been  keenly  felt  at  Moscow.  With  the  appointment  of  M.  M.  Borodin 


138  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

an  important  step  has  been  taken  in  this  direction.  .  .  .  Please  regard 
Comrade  Borodin  not  only  as  a  representative  of  the  Government 
but  likewise  my  personal  representative  with  whom  you  may  talk  as 
frankly  as  you  would  with  me." 

The  point  is  that  Borodin,  who  led  the  Chinese  Revolution  until 
1927,  was  not  supposed  to  be  an  official  of  the  Soviet  government. 
The  Soviet  government  always  disavowed  him  and  claimed  that  he 
represented  the  Third  International  (Comintern). 

A  little  while  later  Karakhan  addressed  Dr.  Sun  as  "Dear  Com- 
rade," which  is  the  natural  salutation  for  a  Bolshevik  to  use  in  corre- 
spondence with  one  who  is  a  friend  and  not  bourgeois.  Sun  Yat-sen, 
in  reply,  wrote  "Dear  Comrade"  to  Karakhan. 

Dr.  Sun's  letter  of  September  17,  1923,  to  Karakhan  in  Moscow 
included  this  paragraph,  "What  follows  is  rigidly  confidential.  Some 
weeks  ago,  I  sent  identic  letters  to  Comrades  Lenin,  Tchitcherin,  and 
Trotzky  introducing  General  Chiang  Kai-shek,  who  is  my  chief  of 
staff  and  confidential  agent.  I  have  dispatched  him  to  Moscow  to 
discuss  ways  and  means  whereby  our  friends  there  can  assist  me  in 
my  work  in  this  country."  Chiang  got  what  he  came  for.  Moscow 
gave  him  money,  arms,  and  military  advisers.  The  marriage  of  con- 
venience between  him  and  the  Bolsheviks  lasted  until  1927,  when 
Chiang  broke  with  the  Russians,  the  Chinese  Communists,  and  the 
Left  Kuomintang,  including  Mrs.  Sun  Yat-sen,  widow  of  the  man 
who  had  dispatched  him  to  Moscow.  Borodin  himself  had  to  flee 
across  the  Mongolian  desert  to  Moscow. 

Soviet  Russia's  part  in  the  Chinese  Revolution  is  a  sensational  chap- 
ter of  Kremlin  foreign  policy.  Michael  Borodin  knew  the  whole 
story.  Others  knew  pieces  of  it  but  they  refused  to  talk.  So  I  had  to 
tackle  the  big  man  himself.  I  made  my  first  attempts  in  1927  and 
did  not  succeed  until  1929.  A  naturally  secretive  person,  Borodin 
had  been  made  even  more  cautious  and  elusive  by  his  work  in 
Chicago  and  China.  My  first  interview  with  him  took  pkce  on 
February  26,  1929. 1  saw  him  again  on  March  13,  March  25,  April  15, 
May  23,  May  24,  May  27— he  was  growing  interested  in  the  telling 
and  our  talks,  each  of  which  lasted  three  or  four  hours,  became  more 
frequent— May  29,  June  4,  and  June  26.  Never  once  did  he  give  me 
a  definite  appointment.  He  would  say,  "Telephone  me  Friday  eve- 
ning." I  would  do  so.  His  wife  Fannie,  or  his  son  who  worked  for 
the  GPU,  would  answer,  consult  him,  and  return  to  say,  "Comrade 


PERSONAL  139 

Borodin  would  like  you  to  phone  him  tomorrow  morning  at  nine." 
I  would  do  so.  He  would  come  to  the  telephone  and  say,  "Call  me 
again  in  twenty  minutes.  I  may  be  summoned  to  a  meeting."  Often 
he  canceled  appointments  already  made.  But  when  I  finally  got  to 
him,  the  reward  was  rich.  He  liked  to  talk  and  act  the  oracle.  Our 
interviews  usually  took  place  in  the  morning.  He  would  slip  out  of 
his  pajamas  and  dress  in  my  presence,  consume  a  breakfast  of  tea, 
and  then  stride  up  and  down  the  huge  room  in  the  Supreme  Eco- 
nomic Council  house  in  Sheremaytivsky  Street  while  I  scribbled  notes 
with  muscle-cramping  speed.  The  maid  came  in  to  clear  the  floor  of 
mattresses  on  which  people  had  spent  the  night.  Sometimes  a  little 
gray  mouse  gaily  disported  itself  about  the  room. 

Borodin  is  tall  and  broad-shouldered  with  a  shaggy  head  and  a 
thick  walrus  mustache.  He  speaks  a  good  English  intermixed  with 
American  slang  and  frequently  throws  in  a  phrase  like  "You  know 
what  I  mean,  eh?"  or  "Get  me?"  He  impressed  all  who  met  him  in 
China  as  a  person  of  exceptionally  high  caliber.  He  impressed  dis- 
cerning Americans  like  Lewis  Gannett  and  the  agents  of  Standard 
Oil,  as  well  as  the  Chinese.  He  dangled  Chinese  war  lords  and  twisted 
them  around  his  fingers.  Years  after  Borodin  left  China  his  name  still 
awed  Chinese  statesmen  and  workingmen.  He  was-  the  real  dictator 
of  Nationalist  China.  He  departed  in  haste  because  Chiang  turned 
the  Revolution  towards  the  Right  and  threatened  to  decapitate  his 
Soviet  aides. 

"We  will  be  back  in  China,"  Borodin  predicted  in  1929,  and  he 
quoted  approvingly  a  statement  by  George  Sokolsky  that  "Chiang 
Kai-shek  can  do  nothing  without  the  Russians."  Both  prophecies 
came  true.  But,  Borodin  added,  "This  is  not  a  personal  matter."  He 
knew  his  bolt  had  been  shot,  and  when  Chiang  did  again  plead  for 
Soviet  assistance  Borodin  stayed  in  Moscow. 

Borodin  contained  an  honest  mixture  of  Trotskyism  and  Stalinism. 
He  said  with  Trotzky  that  every  "middle"  peasant  wanted  to  become 
a  kulak  or  rich  peasant  just  as  "every  little  pig  wants  to  become  a 
big  pig."  The  Russian  peasant  therefore  had  to  be  "de-peasantized," 
industrialized.  Borodin  declared,  "There  can  be  no  question  of  mak- 
ing the  Russian  peasants  happy  or  of  a  union  between  workers  and 
peasants.  The  Soviet  government  must  put  the  workers  on  short 
rations,  industrialize  agriculture,  and  meantime  wait  for  world 
changes  that  are  sure  to  come  in  five  or  ten  years."  That  was  the 
Trotzkyist  position.  But  he  affirmed  that  Radek,  the  Trotzkyist  ex- 


140  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

pert  on  China,  "was  caught  in  a  maze  of  contradictions."  (Favorite 
Communist  lingo.)  "How,"  Borodin  exclaimed,  "can  Radek  expect 
us  to  establish  a  socialist  state  in  far-off  Kwantung  in  southern  China 
when  he  thinks  a  socialist  state  cannot  succeed  in  one  country,  not 
even  in  Russia?"  A  Soviet  China  was  a  dream,  and  when  Chiang 
refused  to  co-operate  in  creating  a  liberal,  populist  China  in  which 
the  peasants  had  land  and  from  which  the  foreign  imperialists  had 
been  expelled,  the  Communist  game  was  up.  The  workers  and  peas- 
ants alone  were  too  weak.  Without  Chiang,  that  is,  without  the 
bourgeoisie,  nothing  could  be  achieved.  Chiang  could  do  nothing 
without  the  Russians;  it  was  equally  true  that  the  Russians  could  do 
nothing  without  Chiang. 

When  I  mentioned  difficult  economic  conditions  in  Soviet  Russia, 
Borodin  concurred  and  said,  "There  is  probably  no  solution  until 
revolution  comes  in  another  country."  He  meditated  for  a  moment. 
"But  not  in  the  East.  An  eastern  revolution,  in  China,  for  instance, 
would  be  an  added  responsibility  for  Moscow.  It  would  not  be  a  bad 
thing,  but  what  we  really  need  is  a  revolution  in  England  or  in 
Germany." 

Borodin  was  studying  India  during  the  period  I  saw  him.  He  said 
the  British  Empire  was  old.  "The  British  Commonwealth  of  Na- 
tions," he  said  wishfully,  "is  just  another  name  for  a  family  in  which 
the  children,  the  dominions,  are  growing  up  and  will  soon  go  their 
own  separate  ways."  When  I  once  said  to  Chicherin,  "Bolsheviks 
think  too  logically,"  he  corrected  me  and  said,  "You  mean,  too  primi- 
tively." 

Essentially  the  book  I  was  writing  was  the  story  of  Chicherin's 
life-work,  for  after  Trotzky  resigned  as  Foreign  Commissar  in  1918, 
Chicherin  took  over  and  he  had  held  the  post  up  to  this  time. 
Chicherin  understood  my  aims  and  did  all  he  could  for  me  within 
the  limits  set  by  public  policy. 

He  had  an  astounding  memory.  For  months  he  received  me  every 
Sunday  afternoon.  In  the  intervening  six  days  he  had,  of  course,  seen 
an  endless  stream  of  diplomats,  assistants,  and  Soviet  officials.  But 
when  I  came  into  his  spacious  office  he  invariably  said,  "Last  time  I 
was  saying,"  and  resumed  practically  from  the  sentence  where  he 
had  left  off  the  preceding  week. 

Chicherin  was  born  in  1872  of  noble  stock.  His  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  Baron  George  Meyerdorff,  an  explorer  in  Central  Asia. 


PERSONAL  141 

His  father,  an  estate  owner  in  the  province  of  Tambov  and  brother 
of  the  Russian  philosopher,  Boris  Chicherin,  served  as  counselor  in 
the  Russian  Embassy  in  Paris.  Further  back,  the  Chicherins  are  pinned 
to  the  family  tree  of  the  Narishkins,  who  were  related  to  the  Czars. 
Georgi  lifted  himself  out  of  this  background  to  become  a  Bolshevik 
commissar.  He  studied  history  with  distinction  at  St.  Petersburg 
University,  worked  as  an  archivist  in  the  Russian  Foreign  Office, 
wrote  on  the  Crimean  War,  and  then  for  reasons  of  health  went 
abroad  where  he  fell  in  with  Marxists,  and  joined  them.  When  the 
Bolshevik  Revolution  occurred,  Chicherin  was  serving  a  sentence  in 
Brixton  Jail,  London,  for  anti-war  propaganda.  Trotzky  demanded 
his  release.  The  British  refused.  Trotzky  thereupon  announced  that 
no  Briton  would  leave  Russia.  The  British  government  released 
Chicherin  and  he  became  Trotzky's  first  assistant.  It  was  the  cabinet 
of  Lloyd  George  that  had  incarcerated  Chicherin.  A  few  years  kter 
Chicherin  negotiated  with  Lloyd  George  in  Genoa. 

Chicherin  lived  the  life  of  a  recluse.  His  apartment  adjoined  his 
office  and  he  rarely  left  the  building  except  to  go  to  the  Kremlin 
for  cabinet  or  Politbureau  meetings.  One  Sunday  afternoon,  after  he 
had  talked  to  me  for  over  an  hour,  he  asked  me  whether  I  would  take 
a  ride  with  him.  We  drove  out  the  Tverskaya  towards  the  airpfort. 
There  he  ordered  his  car  to  stop,  stepped  out  on  the  left  side,  walked 
around  the  hood,  re-entered  the  auto  on  the  right  side,  and  ordered 
the  chauffeur  to  return  home.  He  had  taken  his  day's,  perhaps  week's, 
exercise  and  air. 

Chicherin  suffered  from  diabetes,  bad  eyesight,  and  muscular  trou- 
ble in  his  right  leg.  In  addition,  he  was  a  hypochondriac.  He  never 
wanted  to  be  far  from  his  physicians.  In  1929,  he  went  to  Berlin  for 
a  cure.  I  followed  him.  He  stayed  incognito  in  a  Grunewald  sana- 
torium. I  asked  Soviet  Ambassador  Krestinsky  to  arrange  an  appoint- 
ment for  me  with  Chicherin.  He  did  so  and  Chicherin  revealed  his- 
tory to  me  in  the  midst  of  thermometers,  medicine  bottles,  and  insulin 
needles.  A  week  later  I  requested  Krestinsky  to  get  me  another  date. 
Krestinsky  said,  "I'll  do  it,  but  if  you  want  to  see  Chicherin  you 
must  not  tell  him  he  looks  well.  He  made  a  scandal  last  time."  Last 
time  I  had  remarked,  "You  are  looking  better." 

In  August,  1929,  Chicherin  let  me  come  to  Wiesbaden  during  his 
cure.  He  would  spend  two  or  three  hours  a  day  reading  the  almost 
completed  manuscript  of  The  Soviets  in  World  Affairs,  and  then  for 
two  or  three  hours  he  would  comment  to  me  on  what  he  had  read, 


142  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

pointing  out  errors,  filling  in  gaps  in  my  information  or  just  reminis- 
cing. It  was  a  great  intellectual  experience  for  me.  To  him  it  entailed 
physical  strain,  and  at  the  end  of  each  interview  his  outer  suit  was 
wet  with  perspiration. 

Because  of  his  illness  Chicherin  had  to  eat  enormous  quantities  of 
food.  I  sat  with  him  once  through  dinner,  and  wrote  to  my  wife 
about  it  as  follows,  "This  is  what  he  ate.  One  big  cup  of  soup,  a 
whole  boiled  trout  that  hung  over  both  sides  of  the  plate,  a  whole 
spring  chicken  with  fried  potatoes,  a  small  plate  of  string  beans, 
cheese  with  black  bread,  and  a  large  orange.  He  drank  a  half  bottle 
of  red  wine  and  a  bottle  of  Fachingen  mineral  water.  He  was  in  a 
very  fine  mood  and  told  me  interesting  things  for  my  book.  After 
this  tremendous  meal  he  ordered  the  waiter  to  bring  him  tea  and  a 
liqueur  in  the  bar." 

The  bar  was  a  long  room.  We  occupied  a  table  near  one  end. 
Opposite  the  table  was  a  window  with  iron  bars.  Chicherin  had  been 
telling  me  about  the  Third  International  and  the  way  it  interfered 
with  his  work.  "It  was  never  so  stupid  as  at  present,"  he  declared. 
"The  whole  disarmament  business  at  Geneva  is  merely  designed  as 
slogan  for  Comintern  propaganda  and  internal  politics.  It  enables  us 
to  say  we  are  being  threatened."  Just  then  a  dog  stood  up  outside  the 
window  with  his  front  paws  against  the  bars  and  barked.  "There, 
there,"  Chicherin  exclaimed  jeeringly,  "that  is  an  attack  on  the  Soviet 
Union.  The  dog  provides  the  Comintern  with  a  slogan." 

Chicherin  told  me  in  Wiesbaden  he  would  soon  resign  on  account 
of  illness.  The  illness  was  partly  physical  and  partly  political.  When 
Litvinov  succeeded  him  as  commissar,  Chicherin  had  to  leave  the 
apartment  and  office  he  had  occupied  for  eight  years.  I  was  back 
in  Moscow  then,  and  Chicherin  sent  me  the  following  letter  by 
messenger  under  date  of  August  16,  1930: 

DEAR  COMRADE, 

I  am  preparing  to  leave  the  house  very  soon  and  to  go  to  a  private 
lodging.  Please  do  not  forget  to  send  your  book  when  it  comes  out.  I 
thought  it  would  be  ready  in  March.  I  send  you  my  farewell  greetings 
and  hope  to  be  in  touch  with  you  in  future.  My  greatest  joy  remains  to 
me:  playing  Mozart.  He  is  for  me  the  world  in  extract  and  the  incarna- 
tion of  the  beauty  of  life.  I  am  mosdy  in  a  very  bad  state,  with  some  life 
coming  back  for  a  short  time  usually  late  in  the  evening. 

Yours  truly, 

G.  CHICHERIN. 


PERSONAL  143 

This  letter  is  one  of  twenty-five  Chicherin  wrote  me  in  1929  and 
1930,  and  which  I  have  withheld  from  publication  until  now.  All 
were  in  English  by  hand  in  ink.  Some  ran  into  many  pages. 

Chicherin  played  the  piano  beautifully.  Once,  during  the  Lausanne 
conference,  he  rendered  selections  for  the  Soviet  delegation.  But  usu- 
ally he  played  alone.  For  a  Bolshevik  to  say  that  only  music  remained 
to  give  him  joy  is  a  sad  note  indeed.  Chicherin,  a  scholar,  wrote  only 
one  book,  a  short  volume  on  Mozart.  A  few  people  in  Moscow  read 
the  manjiscript,  Education  Commissar  Lunarcharsky,  Constantine 
Oumansky,  and  others.  But  Chicherin  would  not  allow  it  to  be 
published. 

Chicherin  poured  all  his  talent  into  music  and  work.  He  had  the 
broad  vision  of  a  truly  great  man  and  the  petty  meticulousness  of 
an  old  maid.  Markoosha  describes  how  he  would  regularly  come  into 
the  secretariat  at  the  Genoa  Conference  and  examine  the  addresses  on 
envelopes  and,  in  some  cases,  even  write  the  addresses.  He  put  the 
same  intense  concern  for  detail  into  his  reading  of  the  corrections 
I  entered  into  my  manuscript  after  seeing  him  at  Wiesbaden.  Five  to 
ten  times  he  wrote  to  Philadelphia  telling  me  that  I  had  misspelled 
names.  Thus,  September  30,  1929:  "The  Catholic  bishop  was  cTHer- 
bigny.  The  Polish  negotiator  was  Wieckowski.  .  .  ."  October  20: 
"The  names  are  d'Herbigny,  Wieckowski  (delegate,  not  head  of 
delegation),  Giulietti,  Moncheur.  .  .  ."  He  also  carefully  checked 
dates  for  me  and  verbal  formulas.  Thus:  "Pechenga  (Petsamo  in  Fin- 
nish) was  granted  to  Soviet  Finland  by  the  treaty  of  March,  1918," 
and  then  the  Bolsheviks,  he  explained,  could  not  refuse  to  give  it  to 
Bourgeois  Finland.  And:  "The  Chinese  government  discouraged 
trade,  handicrafts,  and  agriculture  of  Mongolians,  but  Chinese  did  all 
these  things  in  Mongolia,  sucking  the  blood  of  the  people."  The  aris- 
tocrat who  had  only  rare  contacts  with  the  masses  had  a  profound 
sympathy  for  them. 

When  he  read  the  corrections  I  mailed  to  him,  new  facts  came  to 
his  mind  and  he  included  them  in  letters  which  followed  me  across 
the  Atlantic.  "Do  not  write  me  any  more  here.  Your  letters  will  not 
find  me  here.  What  will  happen  with  your  letters  I  cannot  foresee. 
I  sent  you  many  letters,  one  very  long  on  many  sheets.  The  steel  was 
not  to  be  transported  abroad,  but  to  the  interior  [a  reference  to 
Allied  intervention  in  North  Russia  in  1918].  Many  other  things." 
His  interest  in  my  book  was  touching  and  almost  painful.  Once  a 


144  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

passage  in  a  German  book  he  was  reading  struck  him  as  important 
for  me  and  he  copied  out  a  whole  page  of  it  and  sent  it  to  me. 

In  February,  1930,  I  returned  to  Moscow.  Chicherin  was  in  Mos- 
cow, too,  still  Foreign  Commissar.  I  asked  him  for  an  interview.  A 
messenger  immediately  brought  his  reply,  "Dear  Comrade,  Have  you 
come  for  a  long  time?  I  am  at  present  invisible.  Please  write.  When 
will  the  book  appear?  ..."  And  he  added  some  historic  material 
about  the  Locarno  negotiations  which  I  included  in  the  book. 

Again  I  asked  to  see  him,  and  I  asked  him  to  write  an  introduction 
to  my  book.  The  same  day  he  sent  me  a  very  long  letter.  He  wrote, 
"For  what  purpose  do  you  wish  an  interview?  Perhaps  later  on,  not 
now.  In  my  present  condition  I  cannot  write  anything.  But  there  is 
another  consideration.  .  .  .  Nobody  of  us  can  write  prefaces  to  this 
book.  It  is  independent.  And  it  is  impossible  to  write  a  preface  for  a 
book  where  there  is  the  false  affirmation  about  the  Sowjetgranaten 
[an  allusion  to  my  story  about  shipments  of  Soviet  munitions  to 
Germany],  In  many  places,  you  referred,  in  answer  to  some  objec- 
tion of  mine,  to  other  sources,  also  non-Russian  sources.  Ergo,  the 
book  is  independent."  There  followed  more  new  material,  and  then 
this  postscript,  "Have  you  utilized  Trotzky's  Mem  Leben  [Trotzky's 
autobiography]  ?" 

I  replied  that  I  knew  my  facts  about  the  Soviet  munitions  were 
correct,  but  if  he  wanted  to  deny  them  officially  I  would  print  the 
denial.  I  said  I  thought  he  could  write  an  introduction  to  an  inde- 
pendent interpretation  of  Soviet  foreign  policy.  He  refused.  Febru- 
ary 9,  1930:  "We  cannot  indorse  in  the  form  of  a  preface  standpoints 
of  yours  differing  from  ours.  Or  else  the  book  should  have  been  an- 
other one."  And  again  corrections  and  more  information.  He  inti- 
mated, too,  that  he  would  be  interested  in  seeing  the  proofs  of  the 
book.  I  had  already  read  and  returned  the  bulk  of  them,  but  I  prom- 
ised to  show  him  the  remainder. 

Apparently  seeing  the  thing  in  actual  print  stirred  Chicherin  more 
than  my  typescript.  Or  was  it  his  situation  in  Moscow?  In  any  case, 
he  began  to  hit  harder.  With  reference  to  my  interpretation  of  Soviet 
Russia's  collaboration  with  King  Amanullah  of  Afghanistan,  Chich- 
erin, always  the  romantic  in  Eastern  affairs,  wrote  me,  "Page  793, 
lines  z 7-3 1,  is  politically  on  the  wrong  track.  Our  aid  was  politically 
impossible.  Our  adversaries  spread  the  rumor  that  a  red  army  detach- 
ment was  on  the  way  to  Kabul.  Teheran  was  immediately  on  its  feet 
in  utmost  wrath.  Soviet  soldiers  in  Kabul! ! !  Immediately  we  assured 


PERSONAL  145 

Persia  it  was  untrue.  Russian  soldiers  or  artillery  in  Kabul  would 
have  meant  war  with  England:  so  near  India! !  If  in  1885  peace  hung 
on  a  thread  because  Russian  soldiers  appeared  to  be  going  south  of 
Kushk  on  the  road  to  Herat  [Afghanistan],  what  would  have  taken 
place  in  England  after  Russian  soldiers  had  appeared  near  the  Khyber 
Pass! !  England  operated  against  Amanullah  with  mullahs  and  feudals; 
we  had  no  such  elements  at  our  disposal.  There  is  no  Thaelmann  in 
Afghanistan."  Thaelmann  was  the  German  Communist  leader. 

In  another  letter,  he  said,  "I  spell  Tchitcherin,  the  Britishers  spell 
Chicherin." 

A  letter  from  Chicherin,  dated  February  14,  1930,  contained  a  little 
bombshell  and  revealed  his  political  position  and  the  reason  for  his 
dismissal.  In  my  concluding  chapter  I  had  said:  "Moscow's  policy 
in  1930  was  more  radical  than  at  any  time  since  1924,  and  while 
fluctuations  and  zigzags  are  not  excluded,  the  regime  promises  to 
retain  its  present  anti-capitalist,  anti-imperialist,  and  proletarian  char- 
acter." Then  I  sketched  the  Five  Year  Plan  and  the  Kremlin's  hope 
to  improve  conditions.  Chicherin  commented,  "You  speak  like  a 
Stalinist:  your  book,  your  responsibility."  That  did  not  mean  that 
he  was  a  Trotzkyist.  He  simply  anticipated  sharper  departures  from 
the  policy  of  1930  than  I  had  thought  conceivable. 

To  this  letter  Chicherin  appended  a  postscript  about  Soviet  gov- 
ernment relations  with  the  Third  International.  "It  is  quite  wrong," 
it  read,  "to  leave  unexplained  the  difference  between  the  Komintern 
and  the  Soviet  government.  Our  Politbureau  is  not  the  dictator  of 
the  Komintern.  The  fact  that  our  party  is  stronger  and  richer  than 
the  others  is  also  the  reason  for  much  opposition  among  the  fraternal 
parties  against  ours.  .  .  .  The  Soviet  government  joined  the  Kellogg 
pact,  and  the  Komintern  opposed  the  Kellogg  pact:  complete  dif- 
ference." In  later  years  this  difference,  whether  complete  or  not, 
was  completely  wiped  out. 

In  August,  1930,  I  sent  Chicherin  the  printed  volumes  of  The 
Soviets  m  World  Affairs  with  a  sincere  but,  I  felt,  inadequate  inscrip- 
tion of  gratitude.  This  evoked  a  terrible  letter  from  him.  "I  am  in 
the  greatest  possible  despair,"  he  wrote.  "I  am  near  to  suicide  owing 
to  your  blow."  And  he  asked  me  "to  repair  the  immense  harm  you 
have  unjustly  done  to  me."  I  was  thunderstruck  and  mortified,  for 
he  was  ill  and  had  certainly  deserved  well  of  me.  This  explosion  of 
Chicherin's  anger  was  touched  off  by  my  treatment  of  Allied  inter- 
vention in  North  Russia  in  1918.  I  had  written,  "The  Bolsheviks, 


146  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

harried  as  they  were,  could  scarcely  prevent  an  Entente  landing  in 
the  North.  Chicherin  therefore  made  it  clear  to  the  ambassadors  that 
while  the  Bolsheviks  objected  to  intervention,  they  would  resist  for- 
eign landings  only  in  case  they  were  directed  against  the  Communist 
government,"  but  not  if  "they  moved  inland  in  the  direction  of 
Finland  against  the  German  forces  there."  Chicherin  had  told  me 
this  himself.  But  he  now  cried,  "Your  exposal  is  absolutely  false,  it 
puts  me  down  as  a  traitor."  Further:  "You  represent  me  as  having 
favored  the  entente  landings,  provided  they  would  have  declared 
their  aim  at  the  Germans.  I  would  have  been  the  greatest  traitor  and 
the  greatest  idiot  if  I  had  done  so." 

But  I  had  not  said  he  "favored"  them.  I  said  the  Bolsheviks  could 
not  stop  them  and  so  he  tried  to  divert  them  away  from  Communist 
territory  and  against  the  Germans.  Even  in  the  cool  objectivity  of 
the  present  day,  I  do  not  think  I  did  Chicherin  an  injustice  or  pic- 
tured him  as  supporting  foreign  governments'  attacks  on  his  own 
country.  Nevertheless,  I  apologized  and  sought  to  mollify  him.  He 
would  not  be  comforted,  and  wrote  me  long,  sad  letters.  He  feared 
that  "the  thing  can  make  a  noise  already  now  abroad  and  in  our  rul- 
ing circles,  so  that  an  explanation  can  very  "soon  become  inevitable. 
This  misfortune  outweighs  for  me  everything  else."  At  this  point 
he  opened  his  heart,  and  out  of  it  welled  forth  all  his  physical  suffer- 
ing, his  mystic  passion  for  music,  and  his  concern  for  posterity's  ver- 
dict. "In  general,"  he  wrote  me  in  a  long  letter,  "my  condition  is 
much  worse  than  a  collapse.  In  the  morning  at  8 1/2  or  9  A.M.  I  am  a 
little  fresher,  I  read  the  papers  and  speak  to  the  secretaries,  Korotkin 
or  Nikolayev,  then  after  1 1/2-2  hours  (at  iol/2  or  1 1)  begins  the  great 
Qualzustand  [torment] .  I  am  lying  down  immovably,  boundless  fee- 
bleness, not  so  much  sleeping  but  principally  half-dozing,  partially 
hallucinating,  subdelirante  Zustaende  [sub-delirious  condition];  pain 
in  everything;  with  the  greatest  difficulty  I  rise  for  dinner  and  supper 
and  eat  almost  nothing.  About  9  or  10  or  1 1  P.M.  the  period  of  pause 
comes,  some  little  renewed  vitality  for  several  hours,  when  I  read 
papers,  write  letters,  attend  to  the  small  practical  matters  of  existence. 
During  this  period  of  interlude  I  looked  into  your  book  (very  insuf- 
ficiently) and  am  now  writing  this  letter.  During  this  period  I  also 
play  Mozart,  the  best  thing  I  have  had  and  have  in  life,  my  ideal  of 
beauty,  the  incarnation  of  cosmic  universe-feeling  and  of  fiery  real 
life,  of  human  psychology  and  of  immensity  without  shores,  true  nec- 
tar and  ambrosia  filling  with  complete  satisfaction.  In  these  few  hours 


PERSONAL  147 

I  play  and  read  and  write  and  eat.  But  it  is  for  a  short  time  always.  So 
it  is  not  only  delicate  health,  it  is  immensely  worse— when  and  how 
the  conclusion  comes— is  unknown.  But  I  will  not  go  down  to  poster- 
ity as  having  encouraged  entente  landings,  which  is  completely  un- 
true. Unfortunately  the  one  paragraph  in  cause  gives  this  wrong 
impression." 

He  continued  to  write  to  me  on  this  and  other  subjects.  In  one 
letter  he  declared,  "I  am  and  always  have  been  an  absolutely. un- 
diluted, unmixed,  unwavering,  unswerving  enemy  of  our  joining  the 
League  of  Nations." 

September  30,  1930,  he  broke  off  a  many-page  letter  with  the 
remark,  "I  am  obliged  to  stop,  because  my  pain  becomes  again 
stronger." 

He  had  expected  a  "scandal"  from  what  I  had  written  about  the 
Entente  landings  in  northern  Russia.  Russians  are  terrified  by  a  "scan- 
dal." But  no  critic  or  reviewer,  or  anti-Bolshevik  or  Bolshevik  leader, 
noticed  anything  unusual  or  wrong  or  derogatory  in  what  I  had  said 
about  Chicherin's  attitude,  and  so  Chicherin  took  a  quieter  view,  and 
his  last  letters  to  me  were  again  friendly,  personal,  and  warm. 

I  never  visited  Chicherin  again.  He  received  only  his  doctors  and 
Karakhan  and  Korotkin.  Karakhan  told  me  that  Chicherin  frequently 
praised  my  book.  Occasionally,  I  would  see  Chicherin  walking  on 
Arbat  Street,  Moscow,  and  I  would  stop  and  gaze  at  him  from  a 
discreet  distance  full  of  somber  thoughts.  He  wore  dark  glasses, 
carried  a  cane,  seemed  shorter  and  much  much  older,  and  usually 
held  under  his  arm  a  bundle  of  old  books  bought  from  an  antiquarian. 
He  always  read  a  great  deal  and  even  in  these  final  years  he  spent  all 
the  foreign  currency  the  government  allowed  him  on  the  latest  books 
of  English,  French,  and  German  literature.  His  misery  dragged  on. 
He  died  on  July  7,  1936,  long  after  he  had  expected  the  end,  and 
the  torture  of  those  years  was  written  on  every  feature  of  his  head 
and  hands  as  he  lay  in  his  coffin.  Men  who  had  worked  with  him 
cried,  but  no  important  Soviet  leader  came  to  the  funeral,  the  press 
gave  little  notice  to  his  death,  and  Assistant  Commissar  of  Foreign 
Affairs  Krestinsky  who  spoke  at  the  services  paid  a  halting  tribute 
and  mixed  it  with  criticism.  It  was  the  saddest  kind  of  end. 

In  1928  in  Berlin,  Alex  Gumberg,  a  remarkable  American  who 
died  in  1939,  said  to  me,  "I  had  lunch  today  with  a  dictator,  a  foreign 
minister,  and  an  ambassador."  The  only  foreign  minister  in  Berlin 


148  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

that  day  was  Chicherin.  I  guessed  he  would  be  accompanied  by 
Ambassador  Krestinsky;  but  I  could  not  guess  the  name  of  the  dic- 
tator. "Parker  Gilbert,"  Alex  said.  One  of  Alex's  functions  in  the 
world  was  to  bring  different  worlds  together  whether  it  was  on 
Unter  den  Linden  or  Fifth  Avenue,  and  in  this  case  he  helped  estab- 
lish a  contact  between  official  Moscow  and  the  American  who  held 
the  threads  of  German  economic  life  in  his  right  hand.  I  interviewed 
Parker  Gilbert  several  times.  This  tall,  modest  man  possessed  in- 
cisiveness  and  penetration  and  an  amazingly  detailed  knowledge  of 
affairs.  He  usually  kept  to  the  subject  of  reparations  when  we  talked, 
but  sometimes  the  conversations  ranged  to  Russia  and  America.  He 
believed  the  Bolsheviks  were  making  a  mistake  in  industrializing  so 
quickly.  They  ought,  he  felt,  to  export  more  grain  and  import  more 
consumers'  goods. 

Parker  Gilbert  favored  American  recognition  of  Soviet  Russia. 
He  expected  that  if  Hoover  were  elected  and  if  he  appointed  Dwight 
Morrow  Secretary  of  State  a  settlement  on  debts  and  other  matters 
could  soon  be  reached  between  Moscow  and  Washington.  "Morrow 
or  Owen  D.  Young,"  he  stated,  "could  soon  solve  the  problems.  But 
a  lot  of  people  in  the  State  Department  have  little  minds  and  lack 
vision."  Amen. 

"Hoover,"  Gilbert  said,  "is  Mr.  Fix-It!"  He  had  discussed  Russia 
at  length  with  Hoover.  Hoover  had  great  faith  in  the  Slavs  and  felt 
Russia  and  America  had  a  big  common  future.  "But  he  is  Mr.  Fix-It," 
Gilbert  repeated,  "and  he  likes  to  settle  matters  according  to  his  own 
formula  and  get  the  credit  and  praise  for  it.  Morrow,  on  the  other 
hand,  would  efface  himself  even  when  every  bit  of  the  solution  was 
his  own.  That's  the  way  he  acted  down  in  Mexico."  As  to  Calvin 
Coolidge:  "He  is  a  small  man  but  his  brain  is  not  so  small." 

In  Berlin  I  also  paid  visits  to  high  officials  of  the  German  Foreign 
Office  like  Mr.  Gaus,  the  chief  treaty  writer,  Mr.  von  Dirksen,  later 
ambassador  to  Moscow,  Mr.  Schlesinger,  and  Mr.  von  Buelow.  I  sat 
at  the  feet  of  Chancellor  Luther  and  Foreign  Minister  Stresemann  at 
the  regular  Foreign  Office  press  teas,  Once  Count  Brockdorff-Rantzau 
came  in  to  such  a  tea.  He  was  red  and  nervous  and  he  sat  down  beside 
me  and  hastily  gulped  a  cognac.  A  little  while  later  Stresemann 
arrived.  Rantzau  said,  "I  just  had  a  stormy  session  with  him."  Rantzau 
had  offered  to  resign  from  the  Moscow  Embassy  and  Rantzau  was  a 
man  of  great  influence,  especially  with  President  Hindenburg.  Rant- 


PERSONAL  149 

zau  objected  to  the  Locarno  pacts  and  to  Germany's  impending 
entrance  into  the  League  of  Nations.  So  did  Chicherin,  and  Rantzau 
and  Chicherin  saw  eye  to  eye  on  these  matters.  They  believed  in 
Soviet-German  collaboration.  Rantzau  feared  that  Germany  would 
turn  away  from  Russia  and  barter  Russian  friendship  for  chimerical 
Allied  favors.  Stresemann  reassured  him  and  Chicherin  later  admitted 
to  me  that  his  own  apprehensions  were  unfounded.  Germany's  policy 
did  not  become  pro- Ally  or  anti-Russia.  The  man  who  foresaw  this 
was  Stalin.  Where  Chicherin  stormed  against  Germany's  entrance 
into  the  League  in  1926,  Stalin  saw  its  advantages  for  Russia.  Mos- 
cow, Stalin  said,  would  now  have  a  friend  in  the  councils  of  the 
great  powers,  and  it  is  a  fact  that  in  1927  when  Sir  Austen  Chamber- 
lain urged  a  European  bloc  against  Russia,  Stresemann  torpedoed  the 
scheme.  Chicherin  told  me  about  Stalin's  prevision  in  Wiesbaden  and 
I  inserted  it  in  my  manuscript.  This  alarmed  Chicherin.  He  had  told 
it  to  me  in  secret.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  me  to  Philadelphia  saying, 
"It  is  quite  impossible  to  name  the  person  who  favored  Germany's 
entrance  into  the  League,  it  would  be  a  scandal."  Always  the  fear  of 
"scandal"!  That  was  September  30,  1929.  On  October  9,  1929,  he 
again  asked  me  by  letter  not  to  mention  Stalin's  name.  On  October 
20,  again.  On  October  3 1,  a  fourth  time.  I  had  to  delete  Stalin's  name. 
Now  I  can  mention  it. 

In  Berlin,  too,  I  talked  at  length  with  De  Witt  Clinton  Poole  of 
the  United  States  Embassy  about  the  early  revolutionary  days  when 
he  was  consul  in  Moscow.  He  suggested  that  I  see  Bruce  Lockhart, 
who  was  British  envoy  in  Moscow  at  the  same  time;  he  gave  me  a 
letter  of  introduction. 

R.  H.  Bruce  Lockhart,  author  of  British  Agent,  tells  his  own  story 
in  that  book.  When  I  met  him  in  London  he  did  not  seem  the  figure 
of  romance  that  rose  from  his  pages.  He  rather  appeared  the  typical 
Englishman.  But  flair  for  romance  often  invites  romance,  and  the 
maiden  of  the  South  Sea  Isles  and  Mura  of  Moscow  were  undoubt- 
edly not  ladies  of  his  dreams  only.  I  have  met  Mura  in  Berlin  and 
Paris.  She  is  the  Countess  Budberg,  and  how  she  got  to  Moscow  and 
Lockhart  the  archives  may  some  day  reveal.  Subsequently  she  lived 
with  Maxim  Gorky  at  Capri,  and  still  later  with  H.  G.  Wells.  She  is 
a  highly  intelligent  woman. 

Lockhart  took  me  to  his  London  flat  and  read  to  me  from  his  old 
Moscow  diary.  He  quoted  Colonel  Raymond  Robins  of  the  Ameri- 
can Red  Cross  in  Russia,  as  saying  that  "Trotzky  was  the  greatest 


150  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

Jew  since  Jesus."  On  March  26,  1918,  Lockhart  had  an  audience  with 
Lenin.  The  Germans  threatened  to  conquer  Soviet  Russia  and  Lenin 
asked  the  Briton  for  British  military  assistance.  But  the  British,  Lenin 
predicted,  would  not  give  it.  "Your  ways  are  not  oijr  ways  and  our 
ways  are  not  yours."  Lockhart  was  getting  depressing  wires  from  his 
London  superiors.  They  had  no  sympathy  for  the  Bolsheviks.  Lock- 
hart  himself  would  have  helped  the  Russians  in  order  to  hamper  Ger- 
many on  the  western  front.  The  London  geniuses,  however,  were 
moved  by  their  social  prejudices,  and  they  refused  to  assist  Commu- 
nists even  if  that  meant  assisting  themselves. 

When  United  States  Ambassador  Francis  came  to  Moscow,  Lock- 
hart  wrote  in  his  diary,  "Francis  doesn't  know  a  Left  Social  Revolu- 
tionary from  a  potato."  Francis  was  a  provincial  who  got  his  ambas- 
sadorial appointment  on  the  strength  of  a  large  campaign  contribu- 
tion to  his  political  party.  He  played  poker  well. 

As  the  writing  of  The  Soviets  m  World  Affairs  drew  to  a  close  I 
began  to  think*  of  photographs.  I  first  went  to  Chicherin  who  had  a 
mania  for  photographs.  He  liked  to  be  photographed,  preferably  in 
costume,  and  usually  kept  numerous  copies  of  his  own  and  other 
people's  pictures.  Korotkin,  Chicherin's  faithful  personal  secretary, 
allowed  me*  to  search  Chicherin's  file  of  photographs.  I  did  it  in 
Korotkin's  presence,  and  he  had  stories  to  tell  about  many  of  the 
snapshots.  With  his  permission,  I  took  one  showing  Chicherin  in  an 
ornate  Mongolian  costume.  The  paunchy  commissar  was  enveloped 
in  a  rich  silk  Mongol  kaftan.  On  his  head  stood  a  high-crowned 
turban  which  ended  in  a  commanding  peak,  and  around  his  waist  he 
had  buckled  a  jeweled  sword.  He  looked  like  one  of  his  ancient  Tatar 
forbears.  Korotkin  recounted  that  several  years  before,  an  official 
delegation  from  the  Outer  Mongolian  republic  which  rested  under 
Moscow's  protecting  wing  arrived  in  Moscow  to  negotiate  with  the 
Soviet  government.  Its  first  act  was  to  be  a  formal  visit  to  Chicherin. 
But  five  days  passed  and  they  made  no  request  for  an  audience.  When 
the  interview  finally  took  place,  Chicherin  had  decked  himself  out  in 
the  colorful  Mongol  regalia  shown  in  the  photograph,  but  the  Mon- 
gols appeared  in  the  coarse  three-piece  European  street  suits  which 
a  Moscow  tailor  had  hurriedly  made  to  their  order.  Moscow  to  them 
was  the  West. 

In  Chicherin's  archives  I  also  found  a  photograph  of  Karakhan 
playing  tennis  doubles  in  the  Crimea.  Karakhan's  doubles  partner  was 


PERSONAL  151 

King  Amanullah  of  Afghanistan.  "No,"  said  Kordtkin,  "I  can't  give 
you  that.  A  Bolshevik  leader  playing  with  a  king!  How  would  that 
look?  Besides,  Amanullah  has  been  overthrown  and  is  now  in  Euro- 
pean exile  and  our  government  maintains  cordial  relations  with  the 
monarch  who  ousted  him.  I  am  afraid  it  will  get  Karakhan  into  all 
sorts  of  political  trouble." 

But  it  was  a  marvelous  photograph  for  just  those  reasons,  and  I 
wanted  it.  So  I  walked  into  Chicherin's  office  and  repeated  Korotkin's 
arguments  and  requested  him  to  overrule  them.  Chicherin  replied, 
"This  is  a  matter  for  Karakhan  to  decide.  He  knows  the  political 
implications  best."  I  went  upstairs  to  see  Karakhan.  I  reminded  him 
of  the  photograph  with  Amanullah  and  explained  that  Korotkin  ob- 
jected to  publication  on  several  grounds  of  policy. 

"You  bring  me  the  photograph,"  Karakhan  replied.  "If  I  am  hold- 
ing the  racquet  correctly  you  can  use  it."  His  grip  was  right,  and 
the  highly  unusual  photograph  appeared  in  the  book. 

Maxim  Litvinov  gave  me  the  original  credential  signed  by  "V. 
Oulianoff  (Lenin)"  appointing  him  Ambassador  to  the  United  States 
in  June,  1918.  On  receipt  of  this  document  in  London,  Litvinov 
applied  for  an  American  visa  and  was  refused.  He  nevertheless  prided 
himself  on  the  Lenin  autograph  and  made  me  promise  faithfully  to 
return  the  paper  immediately  I  had  a  facsimile. 

Markoosha  gave  me  a  group  photograph  of  the  Soviet  delegation 
to  the  Genoa  Conference.  She  herself  was  on  it,  as  Chicherin's  secre- 
tary, and  also  Eliena  Krylenko,  Litvinov's  private  secretary,  Bronya 
Shmoish,  later  Krestinsky's  private  secretary,  as  well  as  a  galaxy  of 
Soviet  diplomats,  including  Chicherin,  looking  like  a  young  priest, 
Litvinov,  Krassin,  Boris  Stein,  later  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Italy,  Jan 
Rudzutak,  fated  to  be  a  member  of  the  Politbureau  and  executed  in 
the  purge,  Vorovsky,  shot  in  Switzerland  by  a  reactionary  Russian, 
Sapronov,  an  Opposition  leader,  also  purged,  Preobrazhensky,  also 
purged,  and  many  others. 

For  the  frontispiece  of  the  first  volume  I  used  a  photograph  of 
Trotzky  at  the  front.  He  is  seen  before  his  famous  railroad  car  giving 
instructions  to  an  aide-de-camp  dressed  in  leather  from  heel  to  neck 
who  does  not  stand  to  attention.  Trotzky— with  his  boots,  greatcoat, 
woolen  helmet  decorated  with  a  five-pointed  Soviet  star,  revolver, 
pince-nez,  and  black  mustache— looks  die  intellectual  Mars. 

For  the  frontispiece  of  Volume  Two  I  used  a  pen  drawing  of 
Stalin.  It  makes  him  look  crafty,  sly,  and  oriental.  Soviet  friends  first 


152  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

thought  it  a  caricature,  but  I  had  the  perfect  reply;  it  was  the  cover 
of  a  book  I  bought  in  Soviet  Baku. 

I  was  very  proud  of  the  job  I  had  done  on  The  Soviets  in  World 
Affairs,  and  when  Litvinov  once  said  to  me,  "I  keep  your  book  on 
my  desk  for  reference,"  I  felt  I  had  been  rewarded  for  a  lot  of  hard 
work.  The  book  was  translated  into  French  and  published  in  Paris. 
A  German  firm  translated  it  and  paid  me  advance  royalties,  but  Hitler 
came  to  power  before  the  printing  commenced.  The  Soviet  publish- 
ing house  Litizdat  also  contracted  for  its  publication,  and  gave  me  a 
sizable  advance  payment  in  rubles.  Markoosha  translated  it  into 
Russian.  Radek  agreed  with  enthusiasm  to  write  an  introduction.  He 
actually  wrote  it  and  I  have  a  copy.  But  printing  was  delayed  many 
months.  Radek  twice  mislaid  the  manuscript.  Finally,  he  told  me  he 
could  not  sponsor  such  a  book  on  his  own  responsibility.  He  did  not 
wish  to  court  danger.  He  would  have  to  ask  Stalin  whether  the  trans- 
lation could  be  published.  Later  he  told  me  he  had  asked  Stalin  and 
Stalin  said  no.  The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek;  John  Reed's  Ten  Days 
That  Shook  the  World  is  prohibited  in  Soviet  Russia,  although  it  had 
sold  hundreds  of  thousands  of  copies  and  although  Lenin  wrote  an 
introduction  to  it  saying,  "Unreservedly  do  I  recommend  it  to  the 
workers  of  the  world."  It  is  suppressed  because  Reed  told  the  truth 
about  Trotzky's  historic  activities  in  those  ten  days  and  ignored 
Stalin's  minor  role.  My  book  also  cleaved  to  the  record  and  did  not 
accept  the  legend  beginning  to  be  current  in  the  late  twenties  that, 
besides  Lenin,  there  was  only  Stalin,  while  Trotzky  moved  some- 
where far  in  the  rear  fishing  in  turbulent  counter-revolutionary 
waters. 


8.  Life  with  Foreign  Correspondents 

C  would  have  been  pretty  dreadful  if  it  had  consisted  exclu- 
sively of  work  and  talks  with  diplomats.  I  believe  in  regular 
surrenders  to  laziness,  and  it  is  a  favorite  theory  of  mine  that 
man  spends  too  much  time  in  a  perpendicular  position.  In  Moscow, 
Berlin,  Paris,  London,  and  New  York  I  loafed,  played  tennis,  met 
journalists,  family,  relatives,  and  friends  and  played  poker  with  pas- 
sion. Once  in  Berlin  I  participated  in  a  correspondents'  all-night  poker 
game  in  which  I  won  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars.  It  seemed 
like  a  million  in  those  days.  The  next  morning  I  bought  my  wife  a 
fall  coat  and  twenty-four  hours  later  I  was  flying  to  Moscow. 
Usually,  however,  I  lost  at  poker. 

Journalists  always  talk  shop  because  their  shop  is  the  whole  world. 
The  stars  of  the  writing  firmament  crossed  and  recrossed  Europe  in 
those  years.  The  Chicago  Daily  N&ws  sent  to  Moscow  men  who 
would  become  famous.  Negley  Parson  succeeded  Junius  Wood,  one 
of  the  most  fantastic  figures  in  American  journalism.  Junius,  gray- 
haired,  ruddy-faced,  smiling,  and  looking  as  though  he  had  just  ar- 
rived from  Nebraska's  farms  or  Kentucky's  hills,  was  a  peripatetic  en- 
cyclopedia and  a  doubting  Thomas.  He  smoked  Mahorka,  a  cheap, 
pungent  variety  of  Russian  tobacco,  in  corncob  pipes,  of  which  he 
had  about  thirty,  fixed  his  own  vodka  with  lemon  peel,  and  conducted 
a  long  polemic  with  the  Soviet  Postmaster  General  about  the  size  of 
the  Soviet  Union.  The  postmaster  claimed  his  country  covered  one- 
sixth  of  the  dry  surface  of  the  globe  and  Junius  contended  that  it  was 
only  one-seventh.  Nobody  won,  but  Junius  kept  us  all  amused  with 
details  of  the  controversy.  Once  Chicherin's  secretary  phoned  the  cor- 
respondents and  asked  them  to  come  for  an  interview  with  the  com- 
missar that  evening.  When  the  correspondents  arrived  the  elevator 
man  handed  each  one  a  mimeographed  copy  of  a  statement  by 
Chicherin.  Junius  wired  his  story  somewhat  in  this  fashion,  "The  ele- 
vator boy  of  the  Soviet  Foreign  Office  today  gave  me  an  interview 
on  Bolshevik  foreign  policy.  .  .  ." 

Negley  Parson  has  told  of  his  Moscow  stay  in  his  bestselling  auto- 

153 


154  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

biography;  he  was  considered  a  "transgressor"  even  by  his  not  too 
puritanical  colleagues. 

John  Gunther  came  next  in  line  for  the  Chicago  paper.  Big  and 
made  bigger  by  baggy  suits,  jovial,  friendly,  he  was  good  company, 
He  was  writing  a  novel  in  those  days,  and  he  did  not  yet  realize  the 
public  would  prefer  books  psychoanalyzing  continents  to  novels  psy- 
choanalyzing individuals  in  love. J 

The  dean  of  the  Moscow  journalists*  corps,  Walter  Duranty,  one 
evening  in  1927,  invited  Rayna  Prohme,  Dorothy  Thompson,  James 
Vincent  Sheean,  and  me  to  dinner.  Rayna,  a  girl  from  Chicago,  had 
edited  the  Hankow  People's  Tribune  before  the  Nationalist  collapse 
in  China,  and  Sheean  wrote  intelligently  on  China  for  Asia.  Duranty 
and  Dorothy  did  most  of  the  talking.  Jimmy  Sheean  busied  himself 
looking  for  alleged  mistakes  in  my  Oil  Imperialism  and  underscoring 
them  for  Rayna's  benefit.  At  one  point  Jimmy  left  the  room  and 
when  he  came  back  he  said,  "Charming  cook 'you  have,  Duranty." 

"You  leave  that  cook  alone,"  Duranty  snapped,  smiling  to  soften 
the  asperity  of  the  reply.  Katya  was  charming  indeed,  and  she  later 
became  the  mother  of  Michael  Duranty,  a  lovely  Anglo-Russian  en- 
tente with  noble  features. 

Duranty  likes  to  talk,  especially  about  wars  (he  was  at  the  front 
in  the  first  World  War),  blood,  and  women,  and  he  does  it  extremely 
well.  Dorothy  was  not  yet  the  famed  Dorothy  Thompson,  and  she 
listened.  I  first  met  Dorothy  in  Berlin  in  1924  through  the  Grossmans, 
mutual  Jewish  friends.  Later  we  used  to  see  one  another  at  the  Friday 
teas  in  the  German  Foreign  Office  and,  rarely,  in  caf£s  by  appoint- 
ment. She  was  good-looking  and  well  dressed.  She  was  unhappy  in 
those  years,  and  unhappiness  can  make  a  person  more  attractive  be- 
cause less  arrogant.  But  Dorothy,  if  hard  and  cold,  is  courageous  and 
intelligent. 

About  a  week  after  our  dinner,  Duranty  invited  the  American  col- 
ony to  his  apartment  to  meet  Sinclair  Lewis.  The  early  part  of  the 
evening  Lewis  discoursed  in  endless  periods.  I  believe  he  recited  a 
piece  that  went  into  The  Man  Who  Knew  Coolidge.  After  a  while, 
however,  he  lay  down  on  the  broad  couch  in  Duranty's  living  room 
and  fell  asleep.  Dorothy  covered  him  with  a  rug.  The  guests  trooped 
in  and  Lewis  slept.  Nobody  dared  wake  him.  Hours  passed  and  still 
he  slept.  The  guests  started  going  home.  When  I  left  at  midnight 
Lewis  was  still  snoring.  Everybody  was  impressed.  A  lesser  person 
would  not  have  been  so  brave. 


LIFE  WITH  FOREIGN  CORRESPONDENTS  155 

Duranty  was  dean  of  correspondents  by  reason  of  his  long  experi- 
ence but  also  because  of  his  brilliant  pen  and  social  grace.  Duranty  is 
a  bundle  of  paradoxes.  He  is  a  cynic  yet  a  romantic.  He  sees  the  drama 
in  politics  but  detests  the  theater  and  rarely  attends  a  performance  of 
the  opera  or  ballet.  This  Englishman  who  for  years  was  America's 
outstanding  foreign  correspondent  does  not  really  care  what  happens 
to  the  world.  His  interest  in  politics  stems  from  his  love  of  spectacles— 
and  what  bigger  spectacle  is  there?  "King  of  reporters,"  as  Bernard 
Shaw  called  Duranty,  his  ambition,  nevertheless,  is  to  write  fiction. 
Whereas  the  French  journalist  hoped  to  graduate  into  politics  the 
American  journalist's  goal  was  usually  Hollywood,  Broadway,  or  a 
literary  career.  With  H.  R.  Knickerbocker  of  the  International  News 
Service,  Duranty  wrote  several  short  stories,  and  one  of  his  own 
earned  one  of  the  annual  O.  Henry  prizes.  He  never  knew  Russia 
thoroughly,  and  the  theory  and  economics  of  the  Stalin-Trotzky  af- 
fair bored  him.  He  understood  Soviet  politics,  however,  through  an 
uncanny  faculty  of  distilling  a  situation  out  of  the  political  atmos- 
phere, and  at  times  he  sensed  the  trend  of  events  without  possessing 
any  concrete  data.  He  broke  many  a  lance  for  Stalin  yet  he  is  the 
mild  Cambridge  don  with  a  love  for  good  literature  and  for  curdling 
detective  stories. 

Duranty  played  much  bridge,  and  poker  if  the  stakes  were  high 
enough.  He  also  entertained  much.  To  him  came  foreigners  of  all  na- 
tionalities and  even  a  few  Russians.  Among  the  foreigners,  during  this 
period,  were  the  Chens. 

The  four  Chen  children  stirred  Moscow's  curiosity.  They  were 
born  in  Trinidad,  British  West  Indies,  where  their  rich  Chinese  grand- 
father owned  cocoanut  plantations.  They  received  their  education, 
such  as  it  was,  in  private  schools  in  England,  and  visited  China  for  the 
first  time  in  1926,  to  bask  in  the  brief  sun  of  their  father,  Foreign  Min- 
ister Eugene  Chen.  Their  language  was  English  with  an  English  ac- 
cent, and  the  moment  they  learned  a  few  words  of  mispronounced 
Russian  their  Russian  vocabulary  was  larger  than  their  Chinese.  Percy, 
the  eldest  son,  joined  a  Russian  Red  Army  officers'  training  academy, 
then  took  up  journalism,  later  sold  automobiles;  he  did  not  inspire 
confidence.  Jack  is  serious  and  has  gifts  as  a  cartoonist.  Yolanda 
studied  cinematography  under  Eisenstein,  and  married  a  Soviet  film 
producer.  Sylvia  made  the  greatest  hit.  The  blood  of  French  Napo- 
leonic generals  and  West  Indian  Negroes  coursed  in  her  mother's 
veins,  and  Sylvia's  dancing  combines  the  delicate  brush  lines  of  the 


156  TOE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

body-shy  Chinese  with  the  wild  rhythm  of  the  jungle.  Her  skin  is 
darker  than  Chinese  yellow  and  lighter  than  Negro  brown,  and  the 
slit  of  her  eyes  is  just  sufficiently  Chinese  to  be  intriguing.  She  moves 
with  exquisite  grace  and  merely  to  see  her  walk  is  pleasurable.  In 
Moscow  she  at  first  danced  the  Charleston  and  jazz  to  Moscow's  de- 
light, and  the  big  Opera  House  went  wild  when  she  did  her  Spanish 
fan  dance.  Before  long,  however,  the  Communist  bug  bit  her.  That 
might  have  been  all  right  had  it  stayed  in  her  head,  but  it  went  to  her 
legs,  and  she  took  to  dancing  Marxism.  The  Moscow  public  frowned. 
For  an  interpretation  of  the  theory  of  surplus  values  one  does  not  go 
to  Terpsichore. 

Shortly  after  I  met  Rayna  Prohme  I  left  for  a  trip  to  the  Crimea 
and  the  moraine.  She  asked  me  to  let  her  use  my  room  while  I  was 
away,  and  I  did.  Rayna  occupied  it  for  three  days,  and  then  the  land- 
lady, whose  Nepman  husband  was  in  prison,  put  her  out;  she  didn't 
like  women.  A  week  after  I  returned  to  the  capital  Rayna  fell  sick. 
She  fainted  while  visiting  some  friends  in  the  Europa  Hotel.  Officially 
they  said  she  had  the  grippe,  but  Dr.  Link,  the  physician  of  the  Ger- 
man Embassy,  tested  her  vision  by  holding  matches  before  her  eyes 
and  knew  otherwise.  The  curtains  of  her  room  in  the  Hotel  Metropole 
were  closely  drawn  all  day  and  in  the  evening  electric  bulbs  were 
shaded.  But  she  discussed  China  problems  with  a  startling  insight  and 
planned  to  write  a  book  with  Borodin.  I  dropped  in  every  afternoon 
for  a  chat.  There  was  a  strange  fascination  in  her.  She  owned  a  tre- 
mendous head  of  tousled  red  hair  and  intelligent  eyes;  one  felt  that 
she  was  the  kind  of  woman  who  belonged  to  no  one,  not  even  to  her- 
self, but  to  social  movements.  She  asked  me  numerous  questions  about 
Russian  conditions  and  Bolshevik  theory,  and  she  was  obviously  think- 
ing of  joining  the  Communist  Party. 

Jimmy  Sheean  was  very  perturbed  by  Rayna's  health.  One  evening, 
after  a  week  of  her  illness,  die  Veps,  a  Russian  couple  who  had  known 
her  in  Hankow  and  who  were  now  sleeping  on  the  floor  of  her  room 
and  nursing  her,  telephoned  and  asked  Jimmy  to  come  over  immedi- 
ately. I  was  with  him  and  we  went  over  together.  They  told  us  that 
Rayna  had  asked  for  Jimmy  but  was  again  unconscious  and  had  lost 
control  of  her  bodily  functions.  For  some  reason  the  meaning  of  un- 
consciousness did  not  register  in  me  and  I  sat  down  on  her  bed,  took 
her  head  in  my  hands,  and  tried  to  wake  her.  She  was  pale  and  coldr 
and  did  not  wake. 


LIFE  WITH  FOREIGN  CORRESPONDENTS  157 

The  next  day  I  went  to  the  Metropole  Hotel  early  and  the  elevator 
boy  said  to  me,  "She's  dead." 

The  job  now  was  to  take  care  of  Jimmy;  William  C.  White,  who 
had  turned  journalist  after  studying  law  in  Moscow,  and  I  undertook 
it.  The  procedure  consisted  in  filling  Jimmy  with  vodka  so  he  could 
sleep;  but  Jimmy  has  an  endless  capacity  for  alcohol.  Neither  White 
nor  I  drank,  and  so  we  would  talk  for  hours  while  Jimmy  emptied 
one  carafe  after  another.  After  imbibing  what  would  have  put  any 
normal  human  being  under  the  table,  Jimmy  was  still  wide-awake  and 
uncomforted. 

Jimmy  was  tortured  by  the  idea  that  she  never  knew  he  loved  her. 
I  tried  to  convince  him  that  a  woman  always  knows.  "Besides,"  I  said, 
"you  remember  when  you  and  Rayna  strode  arm-in-arm  across  the 
Red  Square  on  November  7?  I  had  not  seen  her  since  my  return  from 
the  south  and  I  yelled  to  her,  'Are  you  happy,'  and  she  yelled  back, 
Tes.'  Why  was  she  happy?"  I  asked  Jimmy. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  funeral,  Rayna's  friends  met  at  the  second 
Moscow  University.  Madame  Sun  Yat-sen,  Eugene  Chen  and  the 
Chen  quartet,  other  Chinese,  Russians,  but  not  Borodin,  and  at  least 
one  hundred  Americans,  including  Dorothy  Thompson,  were  there. 
The  coffin,  covered  with  red  cloth,  was  placed  on  a  cart  drawn  by  a 
horse.  In  front  was  a  military  band  that  played  quiet  revolutionary 
tunes  and  Chopin's  and  Beethoven's  funeral  marches,  then  the  cata- 
falque, then  the  mourners.  Men  removed  their  caps  as  the  cart  passed. 
One  Russian  workingman  asked  Bruce  Hopper  (now  teaching  at 
Harvard)  whether  "the  deceased  was  ours"— meaning  whether  he  or 
she  had  been  for  the  workers— and  when  Bruce  answered  "yes"  the 
Russian  joined  our  ranks. 

I  had  not  cried  since  I  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  but  now  I  broke  down 
and  wept.  When  the  procession  arrived  at  the  crematorium,  darkness 
had  set  in.  The  Moscow  crematorium  has  an  all-white  interior  with 
high  vaulted  ceiling  and  looks  like  a  streamlined  cathedral.  The  coffin 
had  been  opened  to  reveal  Rayna's  face  surrounded  by  flowers.  It 
rested  on  a  slightly  raised  platform. 

We  took  seats  and  listened  to  speeches.  Jimmy  sat  slouched  down 
in  his  chair,  his  overcoat  collar  up,  and  his  head  pulled  down  into  his 
coat  so  that  only  his  hair  was  visible.  He  cried  all  the  time,  and  so  did 
many  others.  Anna  Louise  Strong,  the  American  journalist,  this  time 
rose  to  a  great  emotional  height— as  she  did  in  some  of  her  stories  like 
"Head  High  in  the  Wind"— and  moved  herself  and  us  with  a  few 


158  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

sincere  sentences.  She  called  Rayna  "China's  John  Reed,"  "a  sec- 
ond American  contribution  to  world  emancipation,"  "a  soldier  for 
freedom." 

All  now  assembled  around  the  open  bier,  and  slowly,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, it  began  sinking  into  the  cremating  furnace.  This  was  an 
awful  moment.  It  seemed  much  more  irrevocable  than  interment  in 
an  earthen  grave,  and  I  think  I  saw  Jimmy  sway  forward  as  though 
to  hold  Rayna  back. 

Jimmy  could  not  remain  in  Moscow  after  that,  and  he  moved 
heaven  and  earth— in  this  case,  the  Soviet  Foreign  Office,  the  Moscow 
Soviet,  and  the  various  foreign  consulates— to  get  out  and  go  abroad 
early  the  next  morning.  He  has  never  gone  back  to  Russia  since.  He 
wrote  Rayna's  story  in  Personal  History,  a  book  which  has  become 
the  cultural  Baedeker  of  a  generation  of  Americans. 

The  episode  of  Rayna's  death  has  attached  me,  forever  apparently, 
to  Vincent  Sheean.  I  rarely  see  him,  and  we  are  very  different  per- 
sons, but  I  remain  deeply  fond  of  him  always. 

Several  weeks  after  Rayna's  death,  Bill  Prohme  arrived  in  Moscow. 
Anna  Louise  Strong  had  telegraphed  him  in  Manila  and  promised 
him  that  all  Rayna's  papers  and  effects  would  be  taken  care  of.  She 
likewise  advised  him  against  risking  the  long  trip  from  the  warm 
Philippines  across  the  murderously  cold  Siberia  of  winter  to  below- 
zero  Moscow.  Bill  Prohme  was  a  consumptive.  But  although  he  knew 
he  would  arrive  long  after  the  funeral,  he  came  nevertheless.  And 
then  he  did  this:  he  saw  every  play  and  cinema  and  opera  that  Rayna 
had  seen,  he  talked  to  all  the  people  she  had  talked  to,  and  he  visited 
every  place  she  had  visited.  He  even  wanted  to  go  to  the  room  I  had  • 
loaned  Rayna  for  three  days  and  where  I  no  longer  lived. 

It  seems  to  me  that  two  kinds  of  women  move  men  to  great  love: 
women  who  give  very  much  and  women  who  give  nothing  as  women. 
I  imagine  Rayna  was  the  second  kind.  But  that  was  not  all;  she  was 
an  extraordinary  human  being  with  a  spark  that  is  rare,  and  people 
close  to  her  felt  its  magnetism. 

Maurice  Hindus  came  frequently  to  Moscow  and  wrote  some  ex- 
cellent books.  He  could  never  bear  Moscow  for  more  than  a  week  or 
so,  and  soon  he  would  sling  his  shoes  over  his  shoulder  like  the  Rus- 
sian peasant— the  peasant  did  it  to  save  his  shoes  but  Maurice  to  save 
his  feet— and  tour  the  countryside.  He  is  simple  and  loves  simple  peo- 
ple. He  is  a  fanner  and  loves  the  soil.  Hindus  has  a  tremendous  capac- 


LIFE  WITH  FOREIGN  CORRESPONDENTS  159 

ity  for  warmth  and  affection.  He  participates  in  the  suffering  and 
joys  of  others;  and  he  frequently  empties  his  purse  to  friends.  He  was 
born  in  a  Russian  village  and  appreciated  what  the  Bolsheviks  were 
doing  to  lift  the  villages  out  of  the  Czarist  mire.  Doubts  frequently 
tormented  him,  as  they  did  all  of  us,  but  when  they  tormented  him 
he  was  disconsolate  and  grim  and  yearned  either  for  frivolity  or,  more 
frequently,  for  a  soul-interview  with  a  kindred  spirit.  In  Markoosha 
he  occasionally  found  that  kinship.  They  would  take  down  their  souls 
and  have  a  wonderful  time.  He  understands  emotions  and  ignores  eco- 
nomics. He  despised  Communist  terminology  and  Marxist  logic  and 
admired  the  Soviets  only  for  what  they  did  to  uproot  and  give  new 
life  to  humanity.  Hindus  is  humble,  and  honestly  avows  his  limitations, 
accepting  assistance  when  he  needs  it.  He  is  an  American  lecture  audi- 
ence's ideal:  dramatic,  passionate,  personal,  romantic-looking,  and 
not  too  high-brow. 

Eugene  Lyons,  Moscow  correspondent  of  the  United  Press,  lived 
on  a  social  island  to  which  a  certain  type  of  Soviet  citizen  rowed  over 
from  the  Soviet  mainland  in  search  of  the  warmth  and  light  that  come 
with  good  food,  dancing,  and  pleasant  hosts.  On  the  mainland,  real 
life  evaded  those  citizens  and  Lyons.  He  rarely  if  ever  visited  Soviet 
factories  which  were  social,  political,  and  cultural  centers  as  well  as 
production  units,  and  when  he  visited  a  village  it  usually  was  to  buy 
antique  furniture.  He  had  a  real  grievance;  he  had  expected  the  Bol- 
sheviks to  open  their  arms  and  homes  to  him,  for  he  had  been  a  radi- 
cal in  New  York.  But  when  they  treated  him  as  they  did  all  other 
non-Soviet  foreigners  he  was  quite  disappointed,  and  that  colored  his 
thinking  and  ultimately  changed  his  views.  Nobody  who  depends  on 
society  life  can  be  very  happy  in  Moscow.  Lyons  writes  well  and  has 
an  irritability  which  can  be  mistaken  for  moral  indignation.  But  he 
makes  no  pretense  to  profundity,  and  when  he  enjoyed  the  rare  priv- 
ilege of  an  exclusive  interview  with  Stalin  he  talked  about  his  little 
daughter  Jeanie  and  he  let  Stalin  talk  about  his  little  daughter  Svet- 
lana,  and  he  never  put  a  single  serious  question  to  Stalin.  Lyons  ad- 
mitted this  later  and  kicked  himself  for  it. 

In  Berlin,  I  often  met  Guido  Enderis  of  the  N&w  York  Times,  a 
German  from  Milwaukee  who  wore  suits  of  big  vivid  checks  and 
liked  to  bet  hundreds  of  marks  on  two  deuces;  Edgar  A.  Mowrer, 
brother  of  Paul  and  uncle  of  Richard,  who  wandered  amid  mystic 
ideas  until  Hitler  made  him  a  fiery,  effective  anti-Fascist;  H.  R. 
Knickerbocker,  whose  books  were  bestsellers  in  Europe  but  scarcely 


160  THE  POST-WAR  PERIOD,  1921  TO  1930 

stirred  a  royalty  ripple  in  the  U.  S.  A.;  and  the  United  Press  man, 
Frederick  R.  Kuh,  my  closest  friend,  whose  contacts  were  better  than 
those  of  any  other  correspondent.  I  often  marveled  at  the  way  Kuh 
would  telephone  a  member  of  the  German  cabinet  or  ambassador  and 
inquire  about  the  newest  sensation. 

Discussing  German  politics  with  Berlin  colleagues  I  often  said, 
"Whenever  President  Hindenburg  puts  on  a  top  hat  and  striped  pants 
and  goes  around  the  corner  to  dedicate  a  building  or  open  a  door, 
that's  news  for  you.  But  a  few  million  unemployed,  the  intrigues  of 
East  Prussian  landlords,  and  the  gangsterism  of  the  Nazis  doesn't  even 
deserve  a  'short.' "  One  of  them  countered  wisely  that  readers  and 
editors  wanted  dispatches  on  subjects  already  known.  Just  as  an  audi- 
ence applauds  most  the  arias  and  symphonies  it  has  often  heard,  so  the 
public  asks  news  about  people  and  situations  with  which  it  is  ac- 
quainted. The  popular  British  press  meets  this  attitude  by  making 
their  correspondents  news.  Thus  the  Daily  Express  announces  that 
Sef  ton  Delmer,  its  veteran  news  ace,  has  arrived  in  Prague,  and  there- 
after it  is  Delmer's  doings  that  are  of  interest  and  only  incidentally 
his  coverage  of  the  Czechoslovak  crisis.  By  writing  news  the  jour- 
nalist becomes  news.  It  is  not  so  stupid,  either.  I  often  go  to  a  paper 
to  read  Edgar  Mowrer's  or  Helen  Kirkpatrick's  or  Stoneman's  or 
Leland  Stowe's  reactions  to  events  because  I  know  them  and  can 
sometimes  judge  the  events  by  their  reactions. 

While  writing  The  Soviets  in  World  Affairs,  I  continued  to  con- 
tribute to  newspapers  and  magazines  for  I  had  no  other  source  of  in- 
come. With  the  exception  of  teaching  school  in  Philadelphia  for  half 
a  year  in  1917  and  work  in  a  New  York  news  agency  in  1920, 1  have 
never  held  a  job  and  I  have  always  tried  hard  not  to  get  one.  Once 
when  I  weakened  for  a  brief  moment  and  thought  of  applying  to  the 
New  York  World,  Markoosha  warned  me  off.  She  always  supported 
herself  and  the  children  while  I  free-kneed,  and  it  was  not  till  1929 
when  by  doing  just  what  I  wanted  I  earned  more  than  I  needed  for 
myself  that  I  accepted  partial  financial  responsibility  for  the  family. 
Markoosha  made  some  money  by  translations.  I  never  owned  any 
property— beyond  a  typewriter  and  now  a  steel  filing  cabinet— or  any 
stocks  or  bonds.  I  have  never  held  any  insurance  of  any  kind.  I  have 
never  been  a  member  pf  any  political  party  or  of  a  trade  union  or, 
after  my  youth,  of  any  club.  I  am  essentially  a  libertarian  and  resent 
shackles,  even  personal  ones.  I  can  impose  discipline  upon  myself  but 
I  would  fight  its  imposition  on  me  by  others.  This  applies  especially 


LIFE  WITH  FOREIGN  CORRESPONDENTS  161 

to  intellectual  discipline.  For  me  the  question  of  joining  the  Commu- 
nist party  never  arose  because  I  would  not  allow  another  person  to 
tell  me  what  to  write  or  what  to  think. 

I  nevertheless  sympathized  strongly  with  the  Soviet  regime  out  of 
a  conviction  that,  despite  all  the  repression,  it  had  brought  a  new  free- 
dom to  workingmen,  peasants,  women,  youth,  and  national  minorities, 
and  that,  in  time,  the  dictatorship  would  yield  to  a  democracy  which 
would  be  real  and  better.  That  was  my  big  mistake.  I  will  discuss 
this  later. 

To  supplement  literary  earnings  I  lectured  in  the  United  States  each 
year.  I  spoke  on  Russia,  on  American  relations  with  Russia,  and  also 
on  general  European  conditions.  In  1927,  my  subject  was  "The 
Eclipse  of  Europe."  It  is  interesting  to  look  back  at  records.  I  find  that 
Philip  A.  Adler  of  the  Detroit  News  interviewed  me  that  year  and 
wrote,  "Another  European  war  and  then  the  complete  eclipse  of 
Europe  as  the  leader  in  the  world's  civilization  was  predicted  by  Louis 
Fischer.  .  .  ."  And:  "He  took  exception  to  the  optimistic  reports  of 
Europe's  economic  and  political  status  brought  by  prominent  Ameri- 
cans. Fischer  could  point  no  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  'One  thing  is 
certain,'  he  declared.  'While  the  nations  of  the  world  are  talking  dis- 
armament they  are  all  engaged  in  a  mad  race  of  armaments.  All  are 
preparing  for  the  next  war."  In  a  New  York  lecture  that  same  year,  I 
asserted,  according  to  a  notice  in  the  Times,  that  "Europe  is  falling 
into  a  flabby  state  of  decreptitude.  It  is  like  an  old  man  who  has  been 
in  a  fight  and  cannot  regain  his  breath,  and  the  younger  people  seize 
his  wealth,  influence  and  power.  Europe  has  no  goal."  That  was  in  the 
days  when  America  was  being  blamed  for  all  of  Europe's  ills—  "Uncle 
Sam  Shylock,"  the  European  papers  said;  and  Oswald  Garrison  Vil- 
lard  editorialized  in  The  Nation  about  an  Anglo-American  war.  So 
when  F.  P.  A.  saw  the  Times  account  he  wrote  in  his  "Conning 
Tower"  the  next  day,  "Back  from  a  trip  abroad,  Louis  Fischer  says 
that  Europe  has  no  goal.  It  probably  will  be  charged  against  America 
that  we  stole  the  goalposts." 

Europe  was  descending  fast  into  the  abyss  of  crisis  and  war,  and 
on  account  of  our  own  troubles  and  prejudices  we  did  not  try  to  do 
enough  to  save  it. 


Part  Two 

World  Crisis  and  World  War 
1930  to  1940 


9.  The  Peaceful  Death  of  a  Democracy 

HOW  did  Hitler  come  to  power  in  Germany?  Hitler's  policy, 
at  home  and  abroad,  has  always  been  to  reveal  his  plans. 
Hyper-suspicion  of  propaganda,  however,  led  many  people 
to  doubt  what  he  said.  The  Nazis  boasted  that  they  would  rule  Ger- 
many, and  Hitler  painted  a  picture  of  his  future  game.  "Heads  will 
roll,"  he  said.  He  would  destroy  democracy.  Yet  democracy  tolerated 
him  and  helped  him  take  office  in  order  to  destroy  democracy.  This 
peaceful  death  of  German  democracy  is  one  of  the  strangest  chap- 
ters in  history,  and  it  is  of  special  interest  because  the  suicidal  pro- 
pensities of  democracy  are  not  uniquely  German.  German  democ- 
racy marched  to  its  grave  with  eyes  wide  open,  and  singing,  "Beware 
of  Adolf  Hitler." 

Soviet  Russia  pays  a  high  price  for  its  one-party  system.  Republi- 
can Germany  paid  a  heavy  price  for  its  many-party  system.  The 
abuses  of  proportional  representation  allowed  small  groups  of  voters, 
representing  small  regional  or  economic  interests,  to  send  parliamen- 
tarians to  the  Reichstag.  And  since  the  existence  of  German  cabinets 
was  sometimes  a  matter  of  a  few  parliamentary  votes,  these  parties 
could  individually  or  in  combination  overthrow  a  ministry  or  black- 
mail it  by  threatening  overthrow.  When  minorities  frustrate  the  ma- 
jority, faith  in  majority  rule  is  shattered  and  the  road  is  clear  for 
dictatorship. 

This  was  one  difficulty.  But  greater  difficulties  harassed  German 
democracy.  Democracy  is  temperate.  Its  foe  is  extremism.  In  Ger- 
many, extremism  was  die  thermometer  of  a  sick  social  system  and  an 
ailing  economy.  The  two  extremes  in  Germany  were  the  communists 
and  the  Hitlerian  National  Socialists— the  Nazis.  Both  fought  democ- 
racy and  urged  dictatorships. 

The  voting  strength  of  the  Communists  and  Nazis  rose  and  fell 
with  bad  business  and  unrest.  In  the  elections  of  May,  1924,  the  Nazis 
won  thirty-two  seats  in  the  Reichstag.  But  in  December,  1924,  the 
domestic  calm  following  the  adoption  of  the  Dawes  reparations  plan 
reduced  the  Nazis  to  fourteen.  In  May,  1928,  they  had  only  twelve. 

165 


166      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  Communists  had  sixty-three  Reichstag  deputies  in  May,  1924,  but 
only  forty-six  in  December,  1924,  and  fifty-four  in  May,  1928.  Came 
the  1929  economic  crisis.  On  September  14,  1930,  the  Nazis  went  up 
to  one  hundred  and  seven  seats,  the  Communists  to  seventy-six.  These 
polls  were  the  temperature  of  the  patient,  Democracy. 

What  shook  and  finally  upset  the  German  Republic  was  the 
struggle  for  stability.  The  German  craved  stability  because  he  liked  it 
and  lacked  it.  More  than  most  people  the  German  enjoys  discipline. 
He  prefers  the  calculable.  I  was  in  a  Berlin  barber  shop  one  day  and 
heard  the  barber  ask  a  square-headed  Prussian  customer  how  he 
wanted  his  hair  cut.  "Make  it  two  millimeters  in  the  back  and  four 
in  the  front,"  the  Prussian  replied.  Meticulousness  is  congenial  to  the 
German.  President  Hindenburg  was  shaved  every  day  for  forty  years 
by  the  same  barber  who  came  each  morning  at  the  same  minute, 
stayed  the  same  lenth  of  time  each  day  and  departed  at  the  same  tick 
of  the  clock.  Germany  is  a  country  of  straight  lines.  I  have  flown  over 
it  many  times.  The  scene  from  the  plane  is  usually  one  of  geometric 
forms.  Nature  is  occasionally  permitted  to  add  soft  curves.  Every 
patch  is  carefully  tilled,  every  hedge  neatly  trimmed.  (So  different 
from  the  rambling  English  countryside.)  German  forests  and  woods 
look  like  painfully  tended  parks.  No  fence  may  be  nonchalant.  Every- 
thing wild  is  tamed  by  man— except  man  himself. 

I  do  not  believe  that  one  race  is  inherently  good  and  another  in- 
herently bad..But  climate,  occupations,  and  economic  wealth  do  help 
fashion  national  characteristics.  The  Egyptian  fellah  must  be  different 
from  the  Ukrainian  muzhik,  fisherf oik  in  Cornwall  are  unlike  Cali- 
fornia orange  growers,  and  the  Prussian  farmer  acquires  a  set  of  psy- 
chological reactions  that  are  not  those  of  the  tanned,  wine-drinking 
Provenge  peasant.  Political  events  may  even  modify  physical  charac- 
teristics; the  hardships  of  the  last  twenty-five  years  in  Russia  have 
shortened  stature,  and  the  tall,  straight,  oval-faced  Russian  woman 
with  the  alabaster  skin  and  hair  demurely  parted  down  the  middle  is 
no  longer  as  typical  as  a  shorter,  hardier,  peasant-like  working  woman 
with  powerful  pelvis,  stocky  legs,  and  much  bosom.  The  daily  bath, 
freedom,  good  food,  sports,  care,  leisure,  and  better  gynecologists 
have  made  American  women  the  best-looking  in  the  world. 

Life  on  a  given  territory  does  mold  national  character,  and  Ger- 
mans in  the  between-wars  era  were  nervous,  uncertain,  and  tired,  and 
they  yearned  more  than  ever  for  a  strong  hand  to  guide  them.  In  the 
relatively  tranquil  years— 1925  to  1930— President  Hindenburg,  dull 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  167 

and  stolid,  with  flat-topped  head  and  very  broad  shoulders,  towering 
above  all  men  around  him,  was  a  symbol  of  solidity,  slow  change,  and 
loyalty  to  the  past  and  the  law,  and  he  sufficed  as  a  reassuring,  stabiliz- 
ing force.  In  the  midst  of  the  whirl  of  cabinets  he  stood  still,  the 
source  of  authority,  the  peg  that  held  the  whole  structure.  Behind 
him  were  the  Reichswehr  and  the  Junker  landowners;  the  industrial- 
ists marched  in  step. 

But  in  1930  came  confusion.  The  timbers  creaked.  Little  pilots  lost 
their  direction  and  looked  for  some  beacon  to  help  them  ride  out  the 
storm.  Hindenburg  was  no  longer  enough,  for  he  backed  the  Owen 
D.  Young  reparations  plan  and  summoned  the  nation  to  unity  behind 
the  democratic  Republic— for  which  "sins"  Hermann  Goering,  Nazi, 
viciously  attacked  him.  In  time  of  turmoil,  people  turn  to  the  parties 
of  despair  which  aver  that  they  have  the  only  solution  and  that  it 
lies  in  new  men,  new  methods,  new  institutions.  This  seems  logical  to 
those  who  are  suffering  from  the  failure  of  the  old.  Mounting  diffi- 
culties thus  proved  to  be  wind  in  the  sails  of  the  Communist  and  Nazi 
extremists. 

The  Nazis  had  this  advantage:  the  Communists  summoned  citizens 
to  rise  and  fight  on  the  barricades  against  ruling  cliques  and  mighty 
groups  of  business  magnates.  They  anticipated  bloody  civil  war,  sacri- 
fices, death,  and  initial  chaos  and  poverty.  Hitler,  on  the  other  hand, 
announced  blandly  that  he  would  perform  the  task  for  them.  If  they 
believed  in  him  they  would  be  saved.  He  promised  salvation  without 
participation,  and  cure  by  faith.  He  was  wise  enough  to  insist  that  he 
would  attain  power  by  "legal"  means.  Actually,  the  Nazis  established 
their  regime  not  by  revolution  or  big  pitched  battles  as  in  Russia. 
They  were  peacefully  inducted  into  office  by  the  last  blind  abdicat- 
ing politicians  of  democracy,  and  before  and  after  this  startling  event 
there  was  just  enough  murder  and  loot  to  please  the  sadists  and 
frighten  the  non-Nazis.  Without  excessively  offending  the  German 
love  of  order,  Hitler  satisfied  the  passion  which  some  Germans,  along 
with  many  others,  have  for  shedding  blood,  inflicting  cruelty,  aveng- 
ing past  inferiority,  and  lording  it  over  the  unfortunate  ones  who  do 
not  possess  rifles,  rubber  truncheons  and  party  membership  cards. 

Hitler's  appeal,  moreover,  was  wider  than  that  of  the  Communists. 
The  Communists  looked  for  adherents  chiefly  among  workingmen. 
But  although  they  won  over  some  Social  Democrats,  the  solid  core  of 
the  German  proletariat  remained  Socialist,  and  not  Communist,  dur- 
ing the  pre-Nazi  years.  The  Communists  likewise  found  friends 


168      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

among  the  advanced  intellectuals.  A  few  pauperized  peasants  and  im- 
poverished small  middle-class  businessmen  also  joined. 

Hitler,  however,  appealed  to  every  German.  He  promised  each  one 
something  different.  He  did  not  care  if  one  promise  conflicted  with 
the  other.  The  bigger  the  lie,  he  said,  the  more  acceptance  it  would 
find.  He  promised  the  militarists  a  large  army  and  conquests.  He 
promised  the  Nationalists  an  expanded  Germany  and  a  resurrected 
nation.  He  promised  the  spinsters  husbands.  He  promised  the  capital- 
ists protection  against  trade  unions,  and  he  promised  the  workingmen 
whatever  he  thought  workingmen  wanted. 

To  the  peasantry  Hitler  said,  "The  peasantry  is  the  foundation  of 
the  people.  The  German  people  can  live  without  towns;  they  cannot 
live  without  peasants."  To  the  workers,  Goebbels  said,  "You  are  the 
aristocracy."  To  the  little  man  who  had  lost  his  savings  Hitler  ranted 
against  the  bankers.  To  bankers,  Hitler  promised  measures  against 
their  Jewish  competitors.  He  offered  the  small  storekeeper  support 
against  the  chain  stores  and  monopolists,  but  addressing  the  monop- 
olists he  declared  that  "our  big  industrialists  have  worked  their  way 
to  the  top  by  reason  of  their  efficiency.  In  virtue  of  this  selection, 
which  merely  proves  their  higher  race,  they  have  a  right  to  lead." 
Hitler,  himself  a  Catholic,  cultivated  the  Catholics,  but  a  Nazi  agent 
in  Switzerland,  quoted  in  Heiden's  biography  of  Hitler,  told  Protes- 
tants that  Hitler  was  fighting  Catholic  domination  of  Germany.  All 
of  them  he  would  rescue  from  Communism  and  the  wicked  peace 
treaty.  From  all  of  them,  therefore,  and  from  Jews,  Hitler  could  col- 
lect money  for  his  party  treasury. 

In  the  contest  between  the  two  extremes,  the  Nazis  were  bound  to 
win  against  the  Communists.  The  Commuists  had  a  head  start,  and  in 
the  beginning  the  triumph  of  the  Soviet  Revolution  brought  them 
many  recruits.  But  the  Nazis  quickly  took  first  place  after  the  1929 
slump.  The  Communists  proposed  the  dictatorship  of  the  proletariat, 
Hitler  the  dictatorship  of  the  German,  The  Communists  marched  un- 
der the  banner  of  Marx;  Hitler  under  the  banner  of  Hitler.  The  Com- 
munists were  atheists.  Hitler  associated  God  with  his  political  mission. 
The  Communists  preached  internationalism,  which  is  a  higher  con- 
cept; the  Nazis  preached  nationalism.  The  Nazis  were  anti-foreigner, 
anti-Jew,  anti- Versailles;  the  Communists  anti-capitalist.  But  the  ma- 
jority of  Germans  were  either  big  or  little  capitalists  or  expected  to 
become  big  or  little  capitalists.  Or  they  were  officials  and  professional 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  169 

people  who  identified  themselves  with  the  middle  class,  rather  than 
with  the  workers. 

Germany  was  not  Russia.  The  German  Social  Democrats  who 
stood  athwart  the  Communists'  path  to  power  were  stronger  than 
Russia's  moderate  socialists.  The  German  owning  classes  were 
stronger  than  the  Russian  owning  classes.  The  Bolsheviks  destroyed 
big  business,  but  the  German  "revolution"  never  tried,  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  it  never  tried  because  big  business  was  so  much  bigger  in 
highly  developed  Germany  than  in  backward  Russia.  Moreover,  the 
peasants  played  a  primary  role  in  the  Bolshevik  Revolution— they 
hoped  to  get  land— whereas  the  German  farmer  would  oppose  a  revo- 
lution for  fear  of  losing  his  land.  The  broader  the  distribution  of 
wealth  the  less  likelihood  there  is  of  a  Communist  upheaval. 

In  an  advanced  industrialized  country  with  millions  of  farm-own- 
ing families  a  revolution  is  impossible  until  the  apparatus  of  govern- 
ment, the  police,  and  the  army  have  been  annihilated  in  war  or 
through  f ampe  or  some  vast  natural  catastrophe,  and  until  millions  of 
property  owners  have  lost  their  property  and  the  hope  of  regaining  it. 
The  German  bourgeoisie  knew  this  after  1929.  It  knew  too  that  with- 
out allies  the  Communists  could  not  have  a  preponderance  of  power, 
and  with  allies  they  could  not  make  a  revolution,  for  the  allies  would 
be  either  anti-revolutionary  proletarians  or  non-proletarians. 

The  Nazis  were  never  needed  as  a  bulwark  against  a  Communist 
regime;  the?  Communists  could  not  establish  their  regime.  The  weak- 
ness of  the  German  Communist  movement  is  demonstrated  by  the 
fact  that  it  did  not  lift  a  finger  to  prevent  the  Nazis  from  taking  office 
in  January,  1933,  or  from  consolidating  their  power  in  the  months 
that  followed. 

The  Communists  did  not  have  arms  and  were  unfriendly  to  the 
army  and  police  who  had  them.  The  only  conceivable  Communist 
weapon  was  the  general  strike  which,  however,  depends  for  success 
on  its  being  general.  But  with  millions  of  unemployed,  and  millions 
of  Social  Democrat  workingmen  sticking  to  their  work  because  they 
opposed  such  a  strike  and  its  revolutionary  implications,  and  with  the 
Fascist  Nothilfe  organization  of  trained  scabs,  a  Communist  strike 
could  not  paralyze  national  life.  It  could  not  therefore  be  the  prelude 
to  revolution. 

The  German  Communist  party  suffered  from  other  impediments. 
I  knew  few  if  any  German  Communists  in  the  early  years.  My  sym- 
pathy for  Soviet  Russia  did  not  result  in  any  special  interest  in  for- 


170      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

eign  revolutions.  This  was  probably  due  to  my  skepticism  about  the 
chances  of  such  revolutions.  I  always  regarded  the  Bolsheviks  as  dy- 
namic and  creative  and  the  foreign  Communists  as  their  pale  marion- 
ette reflections.  I  judged  the  German  Communists  by  their  press  and 
deeds  and  these  were  execrable.  The  Berlin  Rote  Fahne  was  a  doc- 
trinaire, sensational  newspaper,  and  Communist  dailies  in  other  coun- 
tries were  little  better.  More  serious  Communist  periodicals  had  qual- 
ity, and  I  always  enjoyed  R.  Palme  Dutt's  incisive  editorials  in  the 
London  Communist  Labour  Monthly.  But  nowhere  did  the  Commu- 
nist movement  develop  a  serious  original  thinker  or  leader.  No  Lenin 
or  Trotzky  or  Stalin  or  Bukharin  emerged.  I  believe  this  is  largely 
attributable  to  dependence  on  Moscow,  not  so  much  for  orders  and 
money  but  for  ideological  cues.  If  Moscow  purged  its  right-wingers 
the  foreign  Communist  parties  launched  crusades  against  their  right- 
wingers,  and  turned  logical  somersaults  to  explain  the  procedure;  if 
the  Soviet  Left  had  aroused  Stalin's  ire  the  Communist  Left  was  perse- 
cuted in  Chile  and  China.  When  the  Kremlin  attacked  formalism  in 
Russian  literature  and  art,  the  French  and  Greek  Communists  did 
likewise  in  widely  different  situations.  Parrots  cannot  become  leaders. 

The  German  Communist  party  was  purged  several  times  on  in- 
structions from  Third  International  headquarters  in  Moscow.  Once 
when  the  German  Communists  obviously  wished  to  get  rid  of  its 
leader,  Ernst  Thaelmann,  Moscow  reinstated  him.  Subservience  took 
precedence  over  ability.  The  close  ties  and  intimate  collaboration 
with  Moscow  had  their  uses— the  foreign  Communists  could  lean  on 
a  functioning  revolution  for  strength  and  influence.  They  could  say, 
"Communism  is  already  working  in  one  country."  But  it  hampered 
the  exercise  of  free  will  and  independent  judgment,  and  the  Commu- 
nists outside  Russia  never  knew  what  tactic  they  would  follow  until 
those  inside  told  them.  In  case  of  disagreement,  Moscow's  view  pre- 
vailed, and  the  foreign  Communists  either  submitted  or  quit.  Many 
of  the  best  young  German  intellectuals  were  at  one  time  members  of 
the  Communist  party.  They  joined  and  left  in  xinending  stream.  They 
joined  in  hope,  they  left  in  bitterness. 

During  some  of  the  most  crucial  periods  in  the  history  of  the  Ger- 
man Republic,  when  the  fate  of  Germany  absorbed  all  Germans,  the 
Communists  would  devote  a  considerable  portion  of  their  energy  to 
"Hands  Off  Soviet  Russia"  and  "Hands  Off  China"  campaigns  while 
neglecting  German  problems.  On  a  day  when  a  burning  domestic 
issue  riveted  German  attention,  the  Rote  Fahne  might  appear  with  a 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY          171 

tremendous  first-page  story  about  the  visit  to  Constanta  of  a  British 
cruiser  which  allegedly  but  not  actually  menaced  Russia.  Working- 
men  became  disgusted.  Russia  had  their  sympathy,  but  Germany 
was  their  life. 

Further  dissatisfaction  with  Communist  policy  sprang  from  the  nu- 
merous instances  in  which  Communists  and  Nazis  took  the  same  stand 
in  the  Reichstag  or  state  legislatures  and  even  in  popular  elections. 
Too  often  the  Communist  goal  was  to  defeat  the  government,  or  em- 
barrass the  government  and  foster  chaos.  The  ultimate  consequence— 
that  the  Nazis  would  benefit  from  the  government's  inability  to  act- 
did  not  seem  to  concern  the  Communists.  Many  German  Communists 
were  convinced  that  Fascism  would  open  the  road  to  Communism. 
Instead  it  opened  the  road  to  the  concentration  camp.  Too  often  the 
Communists'  first  desire  was  to  square  themselves  with  their  followers, 
to  show  that  they  were  in  the  opposition  and  would  never  never  sup- 
port a  Catholic  Bruening  or  a  Social  Democrat  Hermann  Mueller.  In 
the  end  they  got  a  Hitler  who  did  not  need  their  support.  Many  Com- 
munists abandoned  the  party  when  they  understood  this  implication 
of  Communist  policy. 

Big  business  and  others  did  not  subsidize  Hitler  to  prevent  a  Com- 
munist revolt.  That  was  the  pretext;  it  made  a  popular  slogan.  Rather 
they  wanted  to  undermine  the  power  of  the  mighty  German  trade- 
union  movement,  reduce  wages,  increase  hours,  rid  themselves  of  the 
irksome  necessity  of  bargaining  collectively  with  their  workingmen, 
cut  social  security  expenditures  for  labor— and  multiply  armaments. 
The  Nazis  could  serve  all  these  ends.  The  capitalists  saw  the  Nazis 
as  a  big  and  growing  mass  movement  of  protest.  They  hoped  to 
tame  it,  perhaps  break  it,  but  in  any  case  bend  it  to  their  purposes. 

Under  the  German  Republic,  the  political  parties  canceled  one  an- 
other out,  and  all  governments  were  more  or  less  impotent.  Real 
power  therefore  resided  with  the  army  commanders  (the  Republic 
was  too  pacifist  for  them),  the  industrialists  (the  Republic  was  too 
socialistic  for  them),  the  big  landlords  (the  Republic  was  too  liberal 
for  them),  and  the  permanent  officials  (the  Republic  was  too  demo- 
cratic for  them).  But  these  four  estates  did  not  have  the  votes.  And 
they  could  be  blocked  by  those  who  had.  Now  here  came  Hitler 
amassing  millions  of  votes.  He  might,  if  properly  treated,  bolster 
their  power  with  ballots. 

After  the  birth  of  the  German  democratic  Republic,  nothing  was 
done  to  crush  the  power  of  the  giant  trusts,  the  big  landlords,  the 


172      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

army  and  the  bureaucracy.  The  trusts  in  fact  became  richer  and  big- 
ger, the  latifundia  were  not  parceled  out,  the  army  wielded  tremen- 
dous influence,  and  the  permanent  officials  enjoyed  enlarged  preroga- 
tives because  of  the  inexperience  and  ignorance  of  quickly  changing 
ministers.  They  were  four  states-within-the-state.  United,  they  con- 
stituted a  super-state.  The  battle  of  1930-33,  was  not  between  Hitler 
and  the  Republic.  Superficially,  it  did  assume  that  aspect.  But  the 
deeper  questions  were:  Which  of  the  four  states-within-the-state 
would  harness  Hitler  to  its  chariot?  Which  would  defy  him?  Which 
would  endeavor  to  escape  defeat  by  bowing  to  him?  For  Hitler  the 
issue  was  simply  this:  Which  could  help  him  to  victory?  These  ques- 
tions shaped  the  record  of  the  pre-Hider  years. 


On  March  6  bloody  riots  of  unemployed  took  place  in  Berlin.  The 
next  day  Reichswehr  Minister  Groener  issued  a  decree  prohibiting 
Nazi  cells  in  the  army.  On  March  19,  the  Reichstag  passed  a  law  pro- 
viding for  fines  on  persons  who  insulted  the  Republic,  the  Republi- 
can flag,  or  the  Republican  government.  On  March  27,  the  cabinet  of 
Chancellor  Hermann  Mueller  resigned,  chiefly  because  it  lacked  Par- 
liamentary support  to  enact  the  federal  budget.  Three  days  later 
Heinrich  Bruening  was  appointed  Chancellor  in  Mueller's  place. 

Bruening  was  forty-five  when  he  became  head  of  the  German  gov- 
ernment. He  was  a  conservative  Catholic.  He  concentrated  on  finan- 
cial problems  that  brooked  no  delay,  and  was  apparently  too  busy  to 
see  or  to  cope  with  the  tremendous  changes  taking  place  in  German 
life.  He  was  stern,  matter-of-fact,  and  honest.  Those  are  important 
virtues,  but  they  did  not  constitute  adequate  equipment  to  ride  the 
German  stofrn. 

Chancellor  Bruening  faced  a  new  budget  deficit  on  Jujy  i.  His 
attempts  to  cover  it  by  additional  taxation  found  no  Reichstag  ma- 
jority. He  thereupon  warned  Parliament  that  under  Article  48  of  the 
Weimar  Constitution,  the  President  of  the  Republic  could  decree 
emergency  legislation  without  a  Reichstag  majority. 

Now  the  fun—  and  disaster—  begin! 

On  July  1  6  Hindenburg  issued  a  presidential  edict  providing  fresh 
sources  of  revenue.  Within  forty-eight  hours  the  Social  Democratic 
Party,  resenting  this  attack  on  parliamentary  government,  moved  a 
resolution  in  the  Reichstag  to  annul  the  President's  decree.  The  mo- 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  173 

tion  passed  by  236  to  221  votes.  Who  voted  for  it?  The  Nazis,  Com- 
munists, and  Nationalists— all  enemies  of  parliamentary  democracy. 
They  were  glad  to  intensify  the  political  confusion.  Bruening  then 
persuaded  Hindenburg  to  disband  the  Reichstag  and  order  new  elec- 
tions. This  is  just  what  the  Nazis  wanted. 

In  July  the  government  of  the  state  of  Prussia  issued  an  order  pro- 
hibiting its  officials  from  joining  Nazi  or  Communist  organizations. 
This  was  a  wire  stretched  across  a  torrent.  During  the  months  of  July, 
August,  and  September,  Germany  seethed  with  an  ugly  election  cam- 
paign filled  with  recrimination,  violence,  threats  of  dictatorship,  and 
avowals  of  patriotism. 

Fifteen  parties  participated  in  the  national  elections  of  September 
14,  1930.  Ten  of  them  won  fewer  than  thirty  seats  in  the  Reichstag. 
The  remaining  five  fared  as  follows:  the  Social  Democrats  dropped 
from  153  to  143;  the  Nationalists  dropped  from  73  to  41;  the  Cath- 
olic Center  rose  from  62  to  68;  the  Communists  jumped  from  54 
to  76,  and  the  Nazis  polevaulted  from  12  to  107. 

The  Berlin  stock  market  collapsed.  The  world  press  was  shocked. 
The  Social  Democrats  promised  to  support  Bruening  as  the  sole  hope 
of  democracy.  Bruening  again  became  Chancellor. 

At  this  point,  I  stopped  in  a  bookstore  on  the  Kurfuerstendamm 
and  bought  an  armful  of  Nazi  literature,  including  Mein  Kwnpf.  I 
found  this  Hitler  opus  wild,  disjointed,  written  in  bad  German,  and 
completely  unimportant  as  a  political  book.  It  was  important  only 
because  a  man  who  now  controlled  107  Reichstag  deputies  had  writ- 
ten it— in  prison. 

The  economic  situation  deteriorated  with  increasing  rapidity. 
Factories  in  the  Ruhr  shut  down.  Capital  fled  abroad  in  fear  of  inter- 
nal disorders.  The  government  endeavored  in  vain  to  reduce  prices. 
Employers  reduced  wages. 

The  new  Reichstag  opened  on  October  13.  The  107  Nazi  deputies 
entered  Parliament  in  brown  semi-military  uniforms,  marching  in 
goosestep.  Stormy  scenes  accompanied  the  election  for  speaker.  Nazi 
Deputy  Heines,  known  to  have  murdered  political  opponents,  re- 
peatedly played  on  a  fife.  A  Communist  deputy  countered  with  loud ' 
whistling.  Communists  and  Nazi  legislators  rushed  at  one  another  at 
frequent  intervals.  Newspapers  referred  to  the  session  as  "a  carnival 
parade,"  and  "a  barbarian  performance."  Social  Democrat  Loebe  was 
elected  speaker. 

On  November  12  Gutehoffnungshuette,  German's  giant  steel  cor- 


174      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

poration,  declared  a  ten  percent  dividend.  In  1929  it  had  a  seven  per- 
cent dividend.  Rheinmetall,  another  steel  company,  likewise  an- 
nounced bigger  dividends. 

December  15:  3,977,000  unemployed. 

Throughout  December  a  film  based  on  Erich  Remarque's  All  Quiet 
on  the  Western  front  was  being  shown  in  many  theaters  in  Berlin 
and  other  cities.  Incensed  by  its  pacifist  implications,  Nazis  attacked 
spectators  as  they  entered  the  theaters,  smashed  electric  signs  outside 
the  movie  houses,  and  threw  stink  bombs  inside.  Nazis  paraded  in  uni- 
form to  places  where  the  picture  was  being  shown.  There  was  so 
much  Hitler  pressure  that  the  government  finally  banned  the  film. 
The  Berliner  Tageblatt  wrote,  "This  was  done  not  on  the  basis  of  the 
law  but  at  the  command  of  the  street.  This  affair  too  proves  that  the 
only  danger  which  threatens  Germany  is  not  the  growth  and  mouth- 
heroism  of  Nazism  but  the  flabbiness,  the  spirit  of  retreat,  and  the 
vacillation  of  the  so-called  'bourgeoisie.'  "  The  Berliner  Tageblatt  it- 
self was  bourgeois. 

The  disease  was  correctly  diagnosed.  The  spread  of  the  disease  wor- 
ried the  doctors.  But  the  plague  marched  on. 


1931 

At  the  end  of  1931,  the  number  of  unemployed  reached  a  Hima- 
layan high:  5,773,000.  Big  national  banks  crashed  and  the  government 
had  to  take  them  over  or  save  them  by  tremendous  grants.  The  spec- 
ter of  inflation  rose  ominously  and  Germans  thought  with  trembling 
of  the  horrors  of  1921,  1922,  and  1923.  The  stock  exchange  was 
closed  for  many  months.  Industrial  output  for  the  year  fell  to  the  low 
level  of  1922  and  1923. 

Storekeepers,  fanners,  families  who  lived  on  small  fixed  incomes, 
and  professional  people  saw  their  incomes  and  property  going  or 
threatened.  Many  joined  the  Nazi  and  Communist  parties.  Sometimes 
they  joined  the  Nazis  first  and  then  went  over  to  the  Communists, 
Sometimes  they  moved  in  the  reverse  direction.  Inter-party  shuttles 
were  heavily-laden  with  people  whose  misery  made  them  search  and 
whose  honesty  made  them  shift. 

The  Nazis  registered  great  gains  in  the  states  of  the  German  Reich. 
In  Thuringia,  Braunschweig,  Saxony,  Hesse,  and  Oldenburg  the  Hit- 
lerians  became  the  major  party.  Hitler  promised  to  prevent  inflation. 
Prince  August  Wilhelm,  grandson  of  the  Kaiser,  said  in  a  speech  at 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY          175 

Braunschweig,  "Hitler  was  sent  to  us  by  God."  His  imperial  grand- 
father thought  exactly  that  about  himself. 

Nazi  violence  stirred  the  country.  Nazi  rowdies  intimidated  vil- 
lages and  towns.  The  -police  was  either  afraid  to  suppress  them  or 
closed  an  eye  out  of  sympathy. 

Nazi  violence  was  deliberate.  The  Nazis  applied  it  on  principle,  for 
its  effect,  not  out  of  necessity.  They  believe  that  violence  impresses 
the  timid  and  suppresses  the  brave.  In  any  nation  the  timid  outnumber 
the  brave.  Mem  Kamp  had  one  notable  contribution:  a  prescription 
on  how  to  delude  the  masses.  Small  doses  of  simple  ideas;  repeat  end- 
lessly. Repetition  breeds  credulity.  It  exasperates  only  the  intellec- 
tually elite  and  they  are  few. 

The  French  army  had  evacuated  the  Rhineland.  This  made  Hit- 
ler's rise  possible.  Now  Bruening  was  trying  to  abolish  German 
reparations  payments.  He  had  to  try;  German  economy  demanded 
it.  But  if  he  succeeded  he  would  open  the  way  to  Hitler's  success. 
The  effort  to  abolish  reparations  made  Franco-German  collabora- 
tion necessary.  The  end  of  reparations  would  end  the  collaboration. 
Germans  would  not  trust  Hider  to  maintain  friendly  relations  with 
Paris.  But  they  would  trust  Hitler  when  those  relations  became 
unnecessary. 

Everybody  was  working  for  Hitler,  On  March  31,  1931,  the  Ger- 
man Foreign  Minister  Curtius  announced  an  impending  German- 
Austrian  customs  union.  Bombshell.  Neither  France,  Czechoslovakia, 
Rumania,  nor  Yugoslavia  had  been  consulted.  Briand  said,  "I  will  not 
permit  it."  That  killed  it.  This  gave  point  to  Nazi  propaganda  against 
Versailles.  France,  like  Italy,  resisted  the  Anschluss  between  Austria 
and  Germany  because  it  would  have  made  Germany  bigger  and 
stronger.  But  a  stronger  Germany  would  be  a  stronger  republican 
Germany,  while  defeat  of  the  union  meant  aid  to  Hitler.  Hitler  bene- 
fitted  coming  and  going:  Concessions  to  Germany  on  reparations 
made  it  easier  for  him  to  rule  Germany;  a  rebuff  to  Germany  on  Aus- 
tria brought  him  new  followers. 

A  congress  of  West  German  industrialists  on  June  3  demanded 
wage  reductions  and  the  curtailment  of  trade-union  rights.  The  Nazi 
newspaper,  Essener  Nationalzeitung,  hailed  this  congress  as  an  ap- 
proach to  Hitler's  program.  Der  Deutsche,  a  publication  of  the  Cath- 
olic trade  unions,  spoke  of  industry's  plots  to  supplant  the  government 
with  a  directorate  of  business. 

Guenther  Stein  declared  in  a  Berliner  Tagebktt  editorial  of  July  7 


176      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

that  a  prominent  German  industrialist  had  said  to  him,  "We  must  re- 
vert to  1904  in  matters  of  social  services.  Wages  have  to  be  cut  twenty 
percent.  Bruening  is  right-wing  but  not  conservative  enough."  At  a 
congress  of  the  German  Nationalist  Party,  Hugenberg,  its  leader,  at- 
tacked Bruening  for  obstructing  Germany's  movement  to  the  Right. 
At  this  same  meeting,  Fritz  Thyssen  assured  Hugenberg  of  the  sup- 
port of  the  western  German  industrialists.  The  Congress  sent  a  greet- 
ing to  the  Kaiser  at  Doom.  The  extreme  Nationalists  did  not  yet 
know  whether  they  preferred  Hitler  or  Kaiser. 

Riled  by  Nationalist  hostility,  Chancellor  Bruening  resigned  on 
October  7.  Since  there  was  no  alternative  as  yet  to  Bruening,  he 
formed  a  new  cabinet  on  October  9.  But  Bruening  was  now  Chan- 
cellor by  the  grace  of  Hindenburg.  He  governed  by  the  President's 
emergency  writ.  He  was  what  the  Germans  called  "a  presidential 
chancellor,"  which  meant  that  Hindenburg  was  dictator.  Bruening, 
the  democrat,  served  the  dictator.  He  did  so  because  Hitler  was  the 
alternative  dictator.  A  struggle  was  brewing  between  Hindenburg 
and  Hitler. 

1932 

This  was  the  fateful  year.  All  the  antagonisms  reached  boiling 
points. 

Hindenburg's  term  was  to  expire  in  April,  and  his  friends  were 
eager  to  avoid  at  national  poll.  They  feared  internal  disturbances  and 
their  effect  on  the  delicate  negotiations  with  foreign  powers  for  the 
cancellation  of  reparations.  Also,  they  were  not  sure  of  the  election 
results.  But  Hitler,  too,  felt  uncertain  and  when  Reichswehr  Minister 
Groener,  Hindenburg's  friend,  summoned  Hitler,  he  duly  presented 
himself.  On  January  7,  secret  talks  took  place  between  Hitler,  Bruen- 
ing, and  Groener.  Would  Hitler  consent  to  a  postponement  of  the 
presidential  elections  for  a  year  or  two?  Hitler  wavered. 

Violent  clashes  shook  the  Nazi  party.  Goebbels  and  Goering  in- 
sisted that  Hitler  run  against  Hindenburg.  Hitler's  negotiations  with 
Groener  and  Bruening  to  cancel  the  election  broke  down.  On  Feb- 
ruary 15,  Hindenburg  announced  his  candidacy,  "I  feel  it  my  duty  to 
do  so,"  he  declared.  The  Communists  immediately  nominated  Ernst 
Thaelmann,  and  on  February  22,  Goebbels  simply  told  a  Nazi  meet- 
ing at  the  Sportspalast  that  Hitler  was  their  candidate. 

The  German  Nationalist  party  of  Hugenberg  then  put  up  Theo- 
dore Duesterberg,  a  leader  of  the  Stahlhelm,  or  Steel-Helmets,  World 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  177 

War  veterans  of  conservative  view.  The  Socialists  named  no  candi- 
date. They  had  no  affection  for  Hindenburg,  but  much  less  for  Thael- 
mann  and  Hitler,  and  if  they  did  not  support  Hindenburg,  Hitler 
might  win. 

The  results  on  March  13  were: 

Hindenburg:  18,654,000 

Hitler:  11,341,000 

Thaelmann:  4,982,000 

Duesterberg:  2,558,000 

Hindenburg  lacked  0.4  percent  of  an  absolute  majority,  and  a  sec- 
ond poll  therefore  had  to  take  place  according  to  the  German  Con- 
stitution. On  April  10,  the  results  were: 

Hindenburg:  19,361,000 

Hitler:  13,419,000 

Thaelmann:  3,706,000 

Hindenburg  was  re-elected.  Over  a  million  Communist  voters,  more 
intelligent  than  their  leaders,  had  sensibly  stayed  at  home.  The  Na- 
tionalists had  split,  more  going  to  Hitler  than  to  their  own  national 
leader,  Hindenburg. 

It  was  possible  to  say:  Hindenburg  has  won  decisively;  we  anti- 
Hitlerites  now  have  power  and  the  mandate  to  stop  Hitler  and  take 
drastic  measures  for  a  radical  cure  of  Germany's  ills.  But  it  was  also 
possible  to  say:  One  cannot  destroy  a  party  that  musters  over  13,000,- 
ooo  votes  and  keeps  growing  all  the  time;  we  must  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  Hitler. 

The  heads  of  the  cabinet  determined  on  the  first  course.  Three  days 
after  Hindenburg's  election,  Groener  banned  the  S.A.  The  S.A.  was 
Hitler's  army.  Republican  Germany  never  had  national  boy-scout  and 
girl-scout  movements.  Each  political  party  had  its  own  youth  organi- 
zation. The  juveniles  from  the  ages  of  six  to  eighteen  were  trained  in 
party  hatreds  and  inter-party  warfare.  I  often  watched  them  in  the 
country  marching  to  and  from  railway  stations  or  camps  with  their 
packs  on  their  backs  and,  the  boys  at  least,  steel-pointed  canes  in  their 
hands.  If  a  rival  group  passed  each  would  try  to  drown  the  singing 
of  the  other,  and  yell  abusive  epithets.  Sometimes  they  came  to  blows 
and  then  the  canes  were  useful.  When  this  younger  generation 
reached  maturity  it  was  equipped  with  all  the  bitterness  and  narrow- 
mindedness  required  for  the  last  fight  for  and  against  the  German 
Republic. 

Young  adults  were  organized  along  similar  party  lines.  The  Com- 


178      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

munists  had  the  Rotfront  militants,  good  strapping  workingmen  and 
excellent  street  fighters.  The  Social  Democrats  had  one  of  the  largest 
organizations  called  the  Reichsbanner.  Two  other  groups  of  a  semi- 
military  character  were  usually  regarded  as  potential  dangers  to  the 
state  because  they  had  arms  or  could  get  them  in  an  emergency;  they 
were  the  Nationalist  Stahlhelm,  war  veterans  who  had  developed 
paunches  and  poor  breathing  since  1918  but  nevertheless  maintained 
a  nation-wide  union  led  by  energetic  men,  and  the  S.A.,  the  Nazi 
Brownshirts  who  had  mastered,  from  much  practice,  the  technique  of 
breaking  up  meetings,  staging  little  pogroms,  throwing  stones  into 
windows  and  running  away,  waylaying  old  Jews  on  dark  corners. 
Now  Groener  outlawed  the  S.A. 

The  S.  A.  received  regular  pay  and  regular  military  training.  It  lived 
in  barracks,  wore  uniforms,  and  saluted.  It  was  a  second  army,  600,- 
ooo  strong,  whereas  the  Reichswehr  was  restricted  to  100,000.  Groe- 
ner acted,  he  believed,  for  the  Reichswehr  when  he  ordered  the  S.A. 
disbanded.  Armies  are  notoriously  jealous  of  their  power  and  rights. 
The  Red  Army  resented  the  rivalry  of  the  GPU  which  had  its  special 
armed  forces.  The  Japanese  army  eyes  the  Japanese  navy  with  a  jeal- 
ous eye.  There  is  even  a  semi-friendly,  semi-serious  jealousy  between 
the  army  and  the  navy  of  the  United  States.  Many  generals  and  offi- 
cers of  the  Reichswehr  objected  to  the  Nazi  S.A.,  and  Groener  was 
their  mouthpiece.  They  were  contemptuous  of  the  Austrian  corporal 
who  had  defamed  their  noble  Prussian  marshal.  It  looked  as  if  the 
Reichswehr,  one  of  the  four  states-within-the-state,  had  taken  sides 
against  Hitler. 

Chancellor  Bruening  also  considered  the  moment  well-chosen  to 
introduce  reforms  designed  to  save  the  republic.  He  tackled  the  land 
problem.  Large,  densely  populated  farm  regions  were  in  distress, 
whereas  many  East  Prussian  estates  owned  by  Junkers  raised  little 
and  did  little  work.  Hindenburg  was  one  of  the  Junkers.  He  was 
Junker  Number  One.  Many  permanent  officials  in  Berlin,  Koenigs- 
berg,  and  other  cities  hailed  from  these  ancient  noble  families  with 
the  "von"  between  their  Christian  names  and  surnames.  The  Junkers 
wanted  money— who  does  not?— and  their  friends  were  near  the  ex- 
chequer. "In  1932,"  says  Konrad  Heiden,  "12,000  peasant  farms  re- 
ceived 69,000,000  marks  [in  subsidies  from  the  German  government] 
while  722  big  landowners  received  60,000,000!"  Baron  von  Olden- 
burg-Januschau,  Hindenburg's  close  friend  and  neighbor,  himself 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY          179 

took  621,000  marks  from  the  federal  exchequer  because  his  three  vast 
estates  were  ostensibly  insolvent.  With  this  money  he  immediately 
bought  a  fourth. 

The  estates  had  to  be  broken  up,  and  the  scandal  of  the  Osthilfe— 
the  subsidies  to  East  Prussian  land  magnates—investigated.  Chancellor 
Bruening  planned  a  frontal  attack.  He  had  worked  himself  into  ill 
health  campaigning  for  the  re-election  of  Hindenburg  because  Hin- 
denburg  was  a  pillar  of  the  Republic.  Hindenburg  had  indeed  re- 
mained loyal  to  his  oath  to  serve  the  Republic.  But  he  was  a  reaction- 
ary in  economic  questions,  and  Junker  cronies  had  his  ear.  These 
estate  owners  hated  Bruening  because  he  accepted  assistance  from  the 
moderate  socialists.  They  even  thought  of  Bruening  as  a  "socialist," 
for  he  had  worked  intimately  with  Adam  Stegerwald,  leader  of  the 
Catholic  trade  unions,  and  they  believed  a  trade  union  .was  always  a 
trade  union,  and  always  bad. 

Chancellor  Bruening  went  to  Neudeck  in  the  middle  of  May,  1932, 
to  lay  his  land  reform  before  President  Hindenburg.  Neudeck  was  the 
old  Hindenburg  family's  last  Prussian  estate. 

Hitler  set  no  store  by  the  breaking  up  of  the  estates.  He  deleted 
from  the  Nazi  Party  program  the  plank  favoring  confiscation  of 
estates  without  compensation.  He  wrote  in  Mem  Kampf  that  Ger- 
many needed  the  Ukraine  for  agrarian  colonization.  The  East  Prus- 
sian spaces,  he  said,  would  not  do  for  that  purpose.  To  the  landlords 
he  thus  gave  the  bird  in  the  hand;  to  the  peasants  he  promised  two 
in  the  Ukrainian  bush. 

When  Bruening  brought  Hindenburg  the  plan  to  accelerate  agra- 
rian resettlement  in  East  Prussia,  the  Junker  coterie  in  and  around 
Neudeck  made  a  choice:  they  were  for  Hitler  and  against  Bruening. 

President  Hindenburg,  then  85,  was  still  sturdy  but  he  kept  audi- 
ences short  because  he  had  to  leave  the  room  often.  Weighty  matters 
of  state  were  accordingly  dispatched  in  a  few  minutes.  Bruening 
stood  before  Hindenburg  at  Neudeck  and  outlined  his  proposed  new 
presidential  emergency  decree: 

HINDENBURG:  "I  am  told  that  the  decree  also  includes  a  Bolshevik 
resettlement  plan.  How  about  that?" 

BRUENING  did  not  reply.  He  read  on. 

HINDENBURG:  "You  deal  with  finance  questions,  too?  I  thought 
you  were  confining  yourself  to  Bolshevism." 

BRUENING  read  on. 


180      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

HINDENBURG:  "But  my  dear  Mr.  Chancellor,  this  will  never  do.  We 
cannot  introduce  Bolshevik  wage  laws  and  Bolshevik  settlement 
schemes.  The  two  trade  unionists  must  leave  the  government." 

BRUENING  wondered  who  the  two  trade  unionist  ministers  were. 

HINDENBURG:  "Yes,  I  mean  you  and  Mr.  Stegerwald.  Of  course  you 
can  remain  as  Foreign  Minister." 

BRUENING:  "Thank  you,  Mr.  General  Field  Marshal.  I  cannot  re- 
main with  a  broken  neck." 

Bruening  resigned  on  May  30.  On  June  2,  Baron  Franz  von  Papen, 
owner  of  the  daily  Germania,  organ  of  the  Catholic  Center  Party, 
and  leading  figure  in  the  conservative  political  Herrenklub  (Nobles 
Club),  formed  a  new  cabinet  on  Hindenburg's  instructions.  His 
cabinet  was  called  the  Cabinet  of  Nobles.  Minister  of  Interior,  Baron 
von  Gayl;  Foreign  Minister,  Baron  von  Neurath;  Finance  Minister, 
Count  Schwerin  von  Krosigk;  Agriculture,  Baron  von  Eltz-Rue- 
benach;  Minister  of  Food,  Baron  von  Braun;  and  Reichswehr  Min- 
ister, General  von  Schleicher.  The  East  Prussian  aristocrats  had  de- 
feated the  Bruening  republicans;  Schleicher  had  defeated  Groener. 

I  spent  an  afternoon  with  General  Groener  in  his  Berlin  apartment 
on  December  20,  1932.  He  did  not  wish  to  talk  about  current  Ger- 
man events  but  read  to  me  instead  from  his  War  diary,  and  discussed 
his  work  in  the  Ukraine  in  1918  when  he  commanded  the  German 
army  of  occupation.  The  next  day,  on  his  recommendation,  I  had  a 
long  interview  in  a  Grunewald  villa  with  Hetman  Skoropadsky,  Ger- 
man puppet  ruler  of  the  Ukraine.  Groener  thought  Germany  need 
not  have  lost  the  World  War  in  1918.  He  urged  Ludendorff  to  re- 
main passive  on  the  western  front,  where  they  did  not  have  sufficient 
trodps  to  break  through;  it  was  wrong  to  launch  the  spring,  1918, 
offensive.  He  would  have  captured  Moscow  instead  and  overthrown 
the  Bolshevik  government.  He  advocated,  if  necessary,  a  slow  re- 
treat towards  a  reinforced  Hindenburg  line  in  the  West.  This  would 
have  required  the  American  army  to  take  the  offensive,  and  since 
the.  Americans  were  inexperienced,  inadequately  trained,  and  en- 
thusiastic they  would  have  been  smashed  and  would  disappear  as  a 
factor  within  a  few  months.  The  German  general  staff,  however, 
insisted^ on  an  offensive  in  the  West,  and  thought  it  could  win  in 
the  summer  of  1918.  That  caused  Germany's  downfall,  Groener  said. 

While  Groener  spoke  to  me,  I  heard  "Nurmi"  crying  in  a  near-by 
room.  Groener  had  recently  married,  and  a  baby  had  arrived  so  few 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  181 

months  thereafter  that  his  enemies  said  it  broke  all  records  for  speed; 
they  christened  it  Nurmi.  The  story  of  Nurmi  went  the  rounds  in 
all  political  circles,  and  somebody  made  sure  to  plant  in  Hinden- 
burg's  slow-witted  cranium  the  idea  that  the  army  resented  such 
frivolous  immorality  on  the  part  of  its  chief.  Nurmi  was  a  factor  in 
the  downfall  of  Groener. 

The  fall  of  Bruening  and  Groener  had  been  engineered  by  Gen- 
eral Kurt  von  Schleicher.  He  negotiated  secretly  with  Hitler,  Roehm, 
the  head  of  the  S.A.,  and  Goebbels.  He  was  Groener's  assistant  minis- 
ter in  the  Reichswehr.  When  Groener  banned  the  S.A.,  Schleicher  had 
walked  up  to  his  chief  at  the  Reichstag  session  and  told  him  the  army 
would  never  stand  for  this.  Schleicher  and  General  Hammerstein 
then  forced  Groener  to  resign.  Groener  reflected  one  Reichswehr 
tendency:  loyalty  to  the  Republic  coupled  with  a  desire  to  make  it 
conservative  and  law-abiding.  But  a  big  unit  may  have  several  tend- 
encies. The  Reichswehr  included  young  blood,  new  officers  imbued 
with  the  Hitler  spirit  of  military  expansion,  conquest,  dictatorship, 
anti-Bolshevism.  Moreover,  on  Bruening's  public  insistence,  oddly 
and  ironically  enough,  the  powers  would  soon  recognize  Germany's 
right  to  equality  of  armaments.  A  new  opportunity  was  dawning  for 
the  Reichswehr.  The  German  army  now  saw  the  long-awaited  day 
coming.  Schleicher  spoke  for  them,  and  he  was  stronger  than  Groener. 
Schleicher  intrigued  with  the  Nazis,  with  the  Junkers,  and  with  the 
big  industrialists  to  bring  in  Papen.  Papen  opened  the  way  to  the 
Hitler  regime. 

Thus  the  landed  aristocrats,  whom  the  Republic  had  treated  with 
gentlemanly  moderation  in  1918,  and  the  militarists  whom  the  Re- 
public had  restored  to  posts  of  power,  bided  their  time  for  fourteen 
eventful  years  to  slay  the  Republic  at  the  first  opportunity.  It  was 
easy  because  they  had  made  sure  to  man  the  pivotal  jobs  from  presi- 
dent to  general  to  judge  to  police  commissar.  (A  Berliner  Tageblatt 
cartoon  showed  a  typical  Prussian  magistrate  examining  a  prisoner. 
"Are  you  a  Republican?"  he  asks.  "If  so,  I  can  dispense  with  your 
defense.")  It  was  easy  because  the  working  class  was  divided  between 
Socialists  and  Communists  and  because  a  part  of  the  bourgeoisie  put 
economic  privileges  above  democratic  rights. 

Hitler  played  on  the  bourgeoisie's  fears  by  luridly  and  hysterically 
painting  the  great  red  specter  of  Communism.  More  than  anything 
else  it  was  the  appeal  to  anti-Communism  that  ruined  German  democ- 
racy. The  forces  which  German  Communism  could  not  destroy  in 


182      WORLD  (CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

1918  and  certainly  could  not  destroy  in  1932,  nevertheless  used  the 
bogey  of  Communism  to  destroy  the  Republic  in  1933.  They  talked 
against  Communism;  they  meant  trade  unions  and  liberalism.  The 
antagonism  of  German  big  business,  landlords,  and  militarists  to  the 
liberalism  'and  pacifism  of  German  democracy  wrecked  German  de- 
mocracy. When  Hitler  laid  siege  to  the  German  Republic  he  found 
a  multitude  of  his  friends  within  the  gates.  Papen  merely  warmed 
the  chancellor's  seat  for  Hitler. 

Papen  performed  numerous  concrete  services  for  Hitler:  On  June 
1 6,  the  S.A.  ban  was  lifted.  On  June  17,  at  the  Lausanne  reparations 
conference,  Papen  demanded  the  scrapping  of  reparations  and  offered 
to  pay  three  billion  marks  in  final  settlement  thereof.  The  offer  was 
accepted.  On  June  18,  the  S.A.  asked  the  government  for  arms.  On 
July  20,  using  Reichswehr  troops,  Papen  suppressed  the  socialist  gov- 
ernment of  Prussia.  On  July  30,  Reichstag  elections  took  place.  They 
had  been  ordered  by  Papen  who  hoped  that  every  election  would 
be  a  step  towards  a  Hitler  cabinet. 

Election  results:  Nazis,  230  Reichstag  deputies;  Socialists,  133; 
Communists,  89;  Catholic  Center,  75;  Nationalists,  37.  The  moderate 
parties  of  the  middle  and  right  practically  disappeared.  Seven  parties 
obtained  one  to  seven  deputies. 

So  there  was  a  new  Reichstag  after  a  national  election  which  cost 
several  dozen  lives.  It  met  on  August  30,  and  elected  Hermann  Goer- 
ing  speaker.  Only  twelve  days  later,  it  voted  non-confidence  in  Papen 
by  512  against  42  ballots.  What  did  Papen  do?  What  did  Hindenburg 
do?  They  disbanded  the  Reichstag  and  called  new  elections.  Again 
meetings,  election  brawls,  political  murders,  and  uncertainty. 

But—these  elections  brought  a  slight  surprise.  The  Nazis  dropped 
to  196;  the  Socialists  won  121  seats;  the  Communists,  100;  the  Center, 
70.  Von  Papen  remained  Chancellor,  meanwhile  negotiating  with 
Hitler  and  pulling  wires  with  Hindenburg  and  his  coterie  in  order  to 
have  Hitler  succeed  him.  On  December  2,  however,  Schleicher  suc- 
ceeded Papen.  This  was  unexpected.  What  had  happened? 

It  takes  money  to  finance  an  election  and  to  pay  a  huge  army  like 
the  S.A.  The  Hitler  party  was  bankrupt.  The  industrialists  were 
tightening  their  purse  strings. 

There  had  been  a  small  but  marked  economic  improvement  in 
Germany  during  the  latter  half  of  1932.  More  significantly,  Schleicher 
was  playing  his  own  game.  No  man  at  the  pinnacle  or  near  it  self- 
lessly  yields  to  another.  Power  is  very  sweet.  Schleicher  had  a  plan; 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  183 

he  wanted  to  split  the  Nazi  organization  and  form  a  government 
based  on  the  trade  unions  and  the  anti-Hitler  Nazis.  Gregor  Strasser 
did  not  altogether  approve  of  Hitler's  compacts  with  the  industrial- 
ists. The  Nazis  were  National  Socialists.  But  Hider  was  a  Nationalist 
and  anti-Socialist  while  Strasser  toyed  with  socialism  and  therefore 
took  an  anti-Hitler  line.  Strasser  and  Schleicher  conspired  together 
against  Hider  and  Papen.  The  industrialists  took  fright.  They  had 
thought  they  could  manipulate  the  Nazis  by  financing  Hider.  But 
now  it  seemed  that  Hitler  did  not  control  the  Nazis.  (Gregor  Strasser 
paid  for  all  this.  He  was  shot  in  the  blood  purge  in  1934.  So  was 
Schleicher.) 

On  December  3,  the  Nazis  lost  half  their  votes  in  the  state  of 
Thuringia.  Throughout  December  Schleicher  released  numerous  paci- 
fists and  democrats  from  jail  and  rescinded  some  restrictions  on  free- 
dom of  the  press.  December  22:  Entry  in  Goebbels*  diary:  "In  the 
party  there  is  a  great  deal  of  discord  and  unpleasantness  to  be  got  rid 
of.  The  financial  calamity  continues." 

Was  Hider's  sun  setting  before  it  reached  zenith? 


I  arrived  in  Berlin  in  January.  My  friends  in  the  American  Em- 
bassy, my  friends  in  the  Soviet  Embassy,  American  journalists,  Ger- 
man journalists,  everybody  said,  "Hider  is  through."  But  on  January 
30,  Hider  was  Chancellor. 

Things  had  happened  behind  die  scenes.  On  January  4,  Hitler  held 
a  secret  rendezvous  with  Papen  in  the  Rhineland.  Papen  then  took 
him  to  a  meeting  of  industrialists  in  Duesseldorf .  From  one  of  the 
participants  I  have  an  eye-witness  account.  Hider  was  not  in  brown 
shirt  but  in  full  evening  dress  and  white  tie.  Hitler  told  the  indus- 
trialists that  Schleicher  was  dangerous;  "But  I  am  a  friend  of  Ger- 
man economy."  He  ranted  and  beat  his  stiff  white  shirt.  Seeing  this 
hysterical  mediocrity,  the  shrewd  businessmen— and  bad  politicians- 
thought  he  would  be  easy  to  manage.  As  Fritz  Thyssen,  President  of 
the  Vereinigte  Stahlwerke  corporation,  admits  in  a  letter  in  the  New 
York  Times,  June  9,  1940,  Hider  "held  out  to  us  the  promise  of 
complete  freedom  in  handling  the  problems  for  which  he  was  not 
competent."  Hider  called  Schleicher  the  "Red  General."  Strasser, 
he  said,  had  no  following.  Schleicher  was  an  adventurer  who  wanted 
to  seize  the  estates  a  la  Bruening.  Time  pressed.  It  had  to  be  soon 


184      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

or  never.  He  needed  power  to  save  them  and  Germany.  He  also 
needed  a  little  money.  The  big  businessmen  applauded  and  drank 
toasts  to  Hitler  and  gave  him  money.  Thyssen  had  supported  the 
Nazis  from  1923  onward. 

It  now  remained  to  convince  Hindenburg  that  Chancellor  Schlei- 
cher  was  willful  and  ambitious  whereas  Hitler  was  "legal,"  patriotic, 
and  ready  to  talk  terms.  A  rumor  was  circulated  (or  was  it  true?) 
that  Schleicher  held  the  Reichswehr  garrison  at  Potsdam  in  readi- 
ness to  stage  a  coup  d'etat  against  the  government.  Papen  maneuvered 
indefatigably  for  Hitler.  He  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  Hinden- 
burg, and  each  chance  he  got  he  dinned  into  the  old  marshal's  ear, 
"Only  Hitler  can  guarantee  law  and  order";  "Hitler  has  lost  votes 
and  we  can  now  handle  him."  On  January  30,  Hindenburg  sum- 
moned the  Austrian  corporal  and  made  him  head  of  the  government. 
That  is  how  German  democracy  died. 

Who  is  this  Hitler? 

Marxists  whose  analyses  are  often  correct,  and  as  often  incorrect, 
say  Hitler  is  "the  agent  of  monopoly  capitalism,"  the  false-face  of 
big  business.  I  find  this  too  crude  a  simplification  to  fit  the  compli- 
cated facts. 

There  is  a  tendency  among  intellectuals,  Marxist  and  otherwise,  to 
substitute  glib  generalizations  for  careful  study,  and  aphorisms  for 
facts.  I  recall  a  speech  by  Felix  Frankfurter  at  a  Zionist  convention 
at  Cleveland  in  1924.  The  audience  was  hostile  to  him  and  he  kept 
saying,  "You  must  have  facts,  facts,  facts."  Every  time  they  heckled 
Frankfurter,  he  shouted,  "Have  you  the  facts,  the  facts,  the  facts?" 
I  thought  then  that  he  was  overdoing  this  insistence.  But  now,  when 
I  have  forgotten  the  details  of  the  controversy,  I  remember  his  sage 
advice.  To  simplify  is  not  always  to  clarify.  It  is  wrong  to  say  that 
Hitler  is  the  slave  of  German  big  business  because  it  helped  him 
achieve  power.  The  facts  do  not  support  this  generalization. 

Hitler  was  the  raucous  voice  of  German  discontent.  His  millions 
of  supporters  were  neither  workingmen  nor  rich  men,  but  middle- 
class  people  afraid  of  social  and  economic  demotion.  Until  the  first 
World  War,  people  looked  to  the  capitalist  class  for  prosperity  and 
economic  well-being.  More  recently,  however,  capitalists  have  had 
to  look  to  the  state  for  assistance.  (Capitalists  sometimes  resent  this 
even  when  they  originally  asked  for  it  or  made  it  necessary.) 

When  the  capitalist,  once  economic  king  and  autocrat,  fails  to 


THE  PEACEFUL  DEATH  OF  A  DEMOCRACY  185 

create  satisfying  conditions,  the  mass  turns  to  the  government  and 
cries,  "What  can  you  do  for  us?"  The  state  acquires  more  mean- 
ing for  the  people.  It  ceases  to  be  a  mere  policeman,  tax  collector, 
and  soldier.  It  becomes  the  source  of  jobs,  bread,  and  checks.  Who 
then  dominates  the  state  is  a  matter  of  tremendous  significance.  Poli- 
tics is  no  longer  "a  game."  It  is  life. 

The  German  middle  class  wanted  a  strong  state  that  would  save 
it.  German  big  business  wanted  a  strong  state  that  could  help  it.  The 
Republic  was  too  chaotic  and  disunited  to  be  of  much  use  to  either. 

The  capitalists  could  dominate  the  German  state  but  they  could 
not  make  it  strong.  They  hoped  Hitler  would.  Having  failed  to 
rally  popular  support  to  their  conservative  parties  they  had  recourse 
to  the  demagogue.  Thirteen  million  Nazi  votes  looked  like  a  guaran- 
tee of  stability  and  strength.  The  permanent  civil  servants  asked  for 
a  master  worthy  of  their  respect.  The  army  wished  to  serve  a  great 
power.  Germany  was  a  nation  yearning  -for  potency.  That  is  why 
Hitler  attacked  Versailles  and  ascribed  Germany's  weakness  to  it. 
That  is  why  he  impressed  listeners  when  he  promised  to  eliminate 
political  parties  because  they  weakened  the  state. 

Who  would  hold  sway  in  the  coming  big-fist  state?  Big  business 
entertained  hopes.  It  had  ties  with  Hitler.  But  the  middle  class  was 
not  enamored  of  big  business.  The  little  man  rarely  is.  This  dislike 
was  the  extent  of  the  German  middle  class's  anti-capitalism  or  "social- 
ism." The  German  middle  class  had  lost  faith  in  the  upper  bour- 
geoisie's ability  to  provide  security  and  profits  for  the  entire  nation* 
The  little  men  themselves  aspired  to  power.  Hitler  was  their  little 
man.  Astutely  sensing  their  psychological  and  economic  needs,  he 
made  his  party  their  mouthpiece  and  agent.  To  attain  his  goal,  big 
business  co-operated  with  him.  Each  remained  on  guard.  "Who 
would  fool  whom?"  Fritz  Thyssen  now  avows  that  he  was  fooled. 
In  1939  he  fled  into  foreign  exile  in  the  footsteps  of  so  many  un- 
happy Jews,  Communists,  Socialists,  pacifists,  Catholics,  and  other 
Germans  whose  brutal  persecution  he  had  paid  for.  His  property 
was  confiscated  like  the  lesser  fortunes  of  a  Kohn  or  a  Levi.  Other 
members  of  his  class,  however,  still  collect  uncertain  benefits  in  the 
fatherland, 

How  did  Hitler's  class— the  middle  class— fare?  The  pleasures  of 
strict  rationing  have  been  conferred  on  it,  and  its  sons  -and  daughters 
were  honored  with  compulsory  labor  camps,  party  jobs,  Kraft  durch 


186      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Freude  picnics,  military  regimentation,  and  glorious  death  for  "Gott 
und  Hitler"  on  land,  sea,  and  in  the  air.  The  gains,  if  any,  are  wiped 
out  by  the  Gestapo  and  swallowed  into  the  maw  of  Mars. 

The  sacrifices  which  every  German,  rich  or  poor,  magnate,  land- 
lord, soldier,  priest,  worker,  or  peasant,  makes  to  the  insatiable 
Moloch  of  the  authoritarian  state  are  the  answer  to  the  question  of 
who  won  in  Germany.  No  class  won.  Moloch  won.  Hitler  won. 
There  are  no  more  Communists  and  no  more  trade  unions,  but  also 
no  freedom  and  no  solid  peace,  no  relaxation,  no  safety;  only  strain 
and  pain  and  tribute. 

Governments  today  wield  many  weapons  of  unprecedented  effec- 
tiveness. The  arsenal  of  the  dictatorships— secret  police,  propaganda 
monopoly,  jobs,  huge  funds— is  so  endlessly  awe-inspiring  that  no 
individual  or  group  dares  to  challenge  authority.  Governments  are 
taking  over  functions  formerly  performed  by  economic  classes.  The 
more  numerous  a  government's  duties,  expenditures,  and  employees 
the  more  powerful  it  is.  Our  era  is  characterized  above  all  else  by 
the  emergence  of  governments  which  are  mightier  than  the  classes 
that  created  them  and  which  can  therefore  defy  or  ignore  or  betray 
the  classes  that  created  them.  No  class  rules  Nazi  Germany.  Hitler 
oppresses  all  classes. 


IO.  Revolution  Comes  into  Its  Own 

A  REVOLUTION,  whether  Nazi  or  Bolshevik,  does  not  like 
to  stop.  It  gets  sick  when  it  stops.  It  has  an  irresistible  urge 
to  move  on  toward  the  goal  for  which  it  was  born. 

The  Bolshevik  Revolution  aimed  to  wipe  out  all  private  capitalists 
and  erect  a  socialist  economy.  Between  1918  and  1920,  civil  war 
interfered.  Between  1920  and  1928,  internal  weakness  interfered.  In 
1929,  came  the  revolution  for  which  the  Revolution  of  1917  was 
made.  Sufficient  experience  and  reserves  of  wealth  had  been  accumu- 
lated under  the  NEP  to  initiate  a  new  phase  of  socialist  activity. 
Immediately  there  was  a  terrific  outburst  of  long  pent-up  destructive 
and  creative  energy.  Lustily,  happily,  the  Communists  went  to  work 
smashing  what  they  did  not  like  and  setting  up  what  they  conceived 
to  be  the  new  society.  The  dynamic  of  revolution  had  been  let  loose, 
and  it  was  like  a  hurricane,  like  a  giant  on  a  rampage.  Obstacles  did 
not  exist.  Costs  did  not  matter.  The  only  thing  that  mattered  was 
the  attainment  of  the  original  objective. 

"Z0  shto  borolis"  was  a  popular  Communist  saying.  "Is  this  what 
we  fought  for?"  When  they  saw  rich  capitalist  Nepmen  dining  in 
government-managed  cabarets,  when  they  saw  workingmen  em- 
ployed by  private  factory  owners,  when  they  saw  peasants  living  in 
rickety  barns  and  plowing  with  the  same  wooden  stick,  they  asked, 
"Is  this  what  we  fought  for? "  And  now  the  Kremlin  gave  the  an- 
swer: "No,  not  for  this,"  but  for  new  cities,  new  mammoth  fac- 
tories, new  socialist  villages,  new  universities,  new  schools,  new  roads, 
a  new  life,  for  the  Five  Year  Plan  and  for  agrarian  collectivization. 
Whatever  stands  in  the  way  must  perish. 

"There  are  no  fortresses  which  Bolsheviks  cannot  take,"  Stalin 
proclaimed.  The  fear  of  cruel  punishment  if  you  failed  and  the  hope 
of  reward  for  yourself  and  the  nation  if  you  succeeded  further  accel- 
erated the  tempo  of  Soviet  reconstruction.  The  great  adventure  had 
started.  1929.  "We  will  overtake  and  outstrip  America."  The  first 
five-year  plan,  a  grandiose  scheme  for  doubling  production  and 
introducing  millions  of  new  hands  into  industry,  was  not  enough. 

187 


188      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

"The  Five  Year  Plan  in  Four,"  became  the  new  goal.  But  this  was 
not  enough.  There  would  be  a  second  plan,  and  then  a  third,  each 
more  ambitious,  each  requiring  more  effort  and  more  zeal. 

The  keynote  of  the  period  was  "more."  Comrade  Margolin,  the 
student-like  manager  of  a  government  grain  farm  in  the  steppes  of 
northern  Caucasus,  took  me  in  a  new  Buick  to  one  end  of  his  land, 
then  drove  fifty-four  miles  in  a  straight  line  to  the  opposite  end.  An 
hour's  dash  by  express  train  across  one  farm!  But  near  by  was  Gi- 
gant,  another,  bigger,  "grain  factory";  there  the  manager  used  an 
airplane  to  get  from  one  part  of  his  farm  to  the  other.  A  Stalingrad 
plant  started  in  1930  turned  out  tractors  at  the  rate  of  21,000  a  year. 
In  1931,  a  sister  plant  in  Kharkov  commenced  operating  at  a  greater 
speed,  and  a  third  tractor  plant  was  already  then  in  construction  at 
Cheliabinsk,  Siberia.  Before  the  Kharkov  unit  was  finished  they  be- 
gan enlarging  it.  At  Magnitogorsk  in  the  Urals  the  government  built 
what  it  claimed  to  be  the  biggest  steel  mill  in  the  world.  Simultane- 
ously, it  laid  the  foundations  of  others  of  equally  imposing  dimen- 
sions. At  Dnieperstroi,  the  workingmen  boasted  that  their  dam  and 
hydro-electric  power  station  had  no  peer  for  size  even  in  America. 
But  it  was  small  compared  to  Angarastroi  that  would  start  going  up 
next  year  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Baikal.  And  they  would  dam  the 
Volga  too.  Russia,  the  giant,  had  stirred  from  his  slumber.  He  would 
break  records— and  other  things,  too.  Every  mounting  curve  of  pro- 
duction had  to  be  pressed  upward  still  further.  Excelsior. 

A  motto  of  the  period  was  "Leftward,  Ho."  Socialism  in  the  vil- 
lage meant  not  only  no  private  renting  of  land,  no  private  owner- 
ship of  horses,  plows,  but  also  socialized  chickens  and  pigs.  Social- 
ists could  not  eat  like  Czarist  muzhiks.  No  individual  pots  and  pans! 
Only  communal  kitchens!  The  peasants,  whether  in  earnest  or  jest, 
spread  a  story  that  the  government  was  manufacturing  mile-long 
beds  and  blankets  under  which  all  families  would  sleep  together. 
New  houses  in  some  cities  had  no  facilities  for  cooking.  The  socialist 
state  would  make  meals  for  them.  If  the  old  life  was  to  be  scrapped 
it  had  better  be  done  completely,  quickly,  now.  Pouring  new  wine 
into  old  bottles  is  conservatism.  The  revolutionist  smashes  the  old 
bottles  before  he  has  new  ones,  then  he  makes  new  bottles— and  then 
he  looks  for  new  wine.  Rotten  vestiges  of  the  past  would  contami- 
nate the  new.  "Nothing  succeeds  like  excess,"  the  vibrant  Bolsheviks 
said.  Flabby  democrats  and  milk-and-water  social  democrats  sought 
a  mean  that  was  not  gold,  but  dross.  Wages,  which  had  never  been 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  189 

equal  in  Soviet  Russia,  must  be  equalized!  Private  practice  of  medi- 
cine was  frowned  upon.  "Socialism  overnight  by  fiat!"  The  roof  and 
facade  must  be  communistic  even  though  the  structure  and  base 
rested  in  poverty,  inefficiency,  illiteracy,  cultural  backwardness. 
There  was  a  lot  of  childish  desire  to  show  off  in  all  this,  but  also  a 
feeling  that  it  was  beneath  a  Bolshevik  to  respect  obstacles  or  con- 
siderations of  expediency  or  the  wishes  and  comfort  of  the  popula- 
tion. The  population  would  appreciate  it  all  later  on. 

The  Communists  did  not  spare  themselves  any  more  than  they 
spared  others.  They  neglected  their  health  and  families.  They  be- 
haved as  they  would  at  the  front.  This  was  a  war,  too,  a  war  against 
an  old  society.  Of  course  there  would  be  pain  and  blood  and  dirt. 
Birth— the  most  glorious  process  in  nature— is  accompanied  by  blood 
and  dirt.  What  does  an  individual  matter,  the  Bolsheviks  asked,  when 
a  whole  world  is  being  remade?  Human  beings  did  not  count  when 
a  better  world  was  being  built  for  human  beings. 

The  entire  Soviet  Union  felt  inspired  in  the  presence  of  this  spec- 
tacle of  creation  and  self-sacrifice.  I  too  was  swept  away  by  it.  I 
saw  old  ugly  walls  totter  and  new  walls  rise.  A  whole  nation  marched 
behind  a  vision.  Tourists  to  Mexico  waxed  enthusiastic  over  the 
bright  colors  and  primitive  life  of  the  native  who  suffered  from 
disease  and  poverty.  But  in  Russia  the  factory  was  conquering.  If 
the  profit  would  be  bathtubs,  better  clothing,  sufficient  food,  more 
doctors,  more  disinfectant,  more  books— fine.  I  had  lived  in  Ukrain- 
ian villages.  I  had  stood  at  train  windows  during  night  hours  of  hor- 
rid wakefulness  crossing  the  flat  face  of  Russia.  No  light.  Hundreds 
of  miles  of  darkness.  People  lived  in  that  all  their  lives.  I  had  done 
high-school  lessons  by  kerosene  lamp.  It  doesn't  kill  you,  but  bright 
light  is  better.  To  this  day  I  hate  to  turn  off  a  light.  Lenin  wrote, 
"Socialism  equals  Soviets  plus  electricity."  Now  the  electric  bulb 
was  invading  the  bleak  black  village;  steel  and  iron  were  vanquish- 
ing Russia's  wood  civilization.  I  translated  Five  Year  Plan  statistics 
into  human  values.  Europe  was  stuck  in  the  mud.  Russia  was  trying 
to  lift  itself  out  of  an  ancient  mire.  This  juxtaposition  and  contrast 
bred  the  radicalism  of  the  Left  during  the  early  thirties. 

Outside  Russia,  the  years  beginning  in  1929  found  governments 
confounded  by  deep  crisis,  with  able  workingmen  in  bread  lines, 
farmers  seeing  their  precious  crops  plowed  under  or  destroyed  by 
dust,  and  intellectuals  in  a  quandary.  An  endless  stream  of  thirsty 
minds  flowed  into  Russia  from  the  capitalist  West.  How  did  Russia 


190      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

do  it?  Was  it  because  of  planned  economy?  Can  capitalism  plan? 
Can  the  governments  of  the  United  States,  of  England,  of  France,  do 
some  of  these  things  without  a  revolution?  Why  must  American 
and  German  engineers  help  build  up  the  Soviet  Union  when  there 
ought  to  be  plenty  of  opportunity  for  the  application  of  their  talents 
at  home?  There  had  never  been  so  little  faith  in  orthodox  capitalism. 
John  Strachey,  British  pro-Communist  Marxist,  swept  the  American 
petty  bourgeoisie  off  its  feet  into  the  fellow-traveler  class.  In  Wash- 
ington, Boris  Skvirsky,  unofficial  Soviet  representative,  was  one  of 
the  most  popular  foreign  figures.  Future  New  Deal  braintrusters  sat 
eagerly  at  the  feet  of  Peter  A.  Bogdanov,  Russia's  trade  commissioner 
in  New  York.  What  was  the  secret  of  Bolshevik  success  and  capi- 
talist failure?  Books  on  the  Five  Year  Plan  headed  the  bestseller  list. 
Parlor  Bolshevism  and  pink  cocktail  parties  were  the  vogue.  If  all 
this  now  seems  difficult  to  believe  it  remains,  nevertheless,  an  authen- 
tic picture  of  those  days,  and  I  recapture  it  easily  when  I  think  back 
of  the  visitors  who  then  crowded  into  crowded  Moscow. 

They  included  intellectual  slummers  and  dissatisfied  women—for 
to  have  been  to  Moscow  had  become  as  necessary  in  some  circles 
as  to  have  sat  on  the  terrace  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix;  but  most  of  them 
were  serious  inquiring  professors,  teachers,  writers,  social  workers, 
and  politicians. 

Among  the  authors  of  books  on  Russia  was  Will  Rogers,  Amer- 
ica's comic  sage,  with  whom  I  tramped  the  streets  of  Moscow.  He 
imported  a  plentiful  supply  of  chewing  gum.  Between  chiclets  and 
chuckles  he  explained  that  he  had  always  worked  for  a  living,  was 
a  proletarian,  and  never  made  a  cent  on  his  investments. 

Theodore  Dreiser  was  a  great  American  tragedy.  He  lost  his  pass- 
port. Sensationalists  inflated  the  loss  into  a  Soviet  plot.  He  cabled  to 
Berlin  for  a  new  passport.  And  then  he  recalled  that  he  had  handed 
it  to  the  hall  porter  for  registration.  He  resented  defective  plumbing 
and  wrote  anti-Soviet  articles.  Later  he  forgot  about  the  discom- 
forts and  became  friendly  with  the  American  Communists,  who 
were  willing  to  forget  his  earlier  sins. 

William  Allen  White,  observant  and  wise,  visited  Moscow  with 
his  wife.  They  saw  much  and  said  little.  I  think  they  learned  much 
and  liked  it  a  little.  Mr.  White  edits  his  Emporia  Gazette  at  Empo- 
ria, Kansas,  and  Emporia  is  not  New  York,  Washington,  or  Chi- 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  191 

cago.  But  a  vital  artery  of  the  nation  passes  through  Emporia  and 
the  Whites  have  a  finger  on  the  national  pulse. 

In  July,  1930, 1  received  a  telegram  in  Moscow  from  Berlin  signed 
"Kuh."  I  had  received  many  like  it  before  and  so  had  other  for- 
eigners. It  told  me  that  "Margaret  Bourke  White  Young  American 
Industrial  Photographer"  had  been  waiting  five  weeks  in  Berlin  for 
a  Soviet  visa  and  wouldn't  I  please  "stir  up."  I  had  never  heard  of 
anybody  named  Margaret  Bourke.  Why  should  he  be  wiring  me 
that  she  was  white,  young  and  industrial?  I  wired  back  and  asked 
her  name.  Margaret  Bourke-White,  one  of  America's  greatest  pho- 
tographers. Markoosha  and  I  became  her  fast  friends.  She  was  high- 
strung  and  hard-working.  The  Russians  respected  her  devotion  to 
work.  She  took  pictures  all  day  and  bathed  them  in  her  bathtub  all 
night,  and  if  that  prevented  her  from  bathing,  it  didn't  matter.  The 
picture's  the  thing.  When  she  photographs,  her  eyes  are  transformed. 
Nothing  else  exists.  The  eyes  reflect  a  passion  and  mania.  The  eyes 
see  more  and  so  do  the  pictures.  Peggy  (now  Mrs.  Erskine  Cald- 
well)  started  her  career  by  photographing  industry— steel,  glass, 
machines,  and  pipe  organs.  She  could  not  take  faces.  (She  certainly 
failed  to  take  mine,  wasting  eighty  plates!)  As  her  personality  un- 
folded and  mellowed,  so  did  her  art,  and  her  photographs  of  human 
beings  in  the  American  South,  in  Czechoslovakia,  in  Russia,  are  the 
work  of  genius.  Russia,  to  which  she  returned,  made  her  think  so- 
cially and  unsealed  a  deep  well  of  sympathy  for  the  plain  suffering 
citizen  of  the  world.  She  has  a  strong  character  harnessed  to  terrific 
energy,  yet  she  tends  to  merge  her  identity  with  othexs  and  to  sub- 
merge her  personality  in  work.  The  mellowness  of  maturity  and  the 
relaxation  of  happiness  intensified  the  first  tendency  and  moderated 
the  second. 

Russia  always  had  a  partiality  for  Negroes.  Russians  are  color- 
blind; distinctions  of  race  mean  nothing  to  them.  When  Roland 
Hayes  sang  in  Moscow,  the  big  Conservatory  scarcely  held  his  audi- 
ence. He  rendered  Debussy  and  Chopin  faultlessly  while  it  yearned 
for  more  spirituals.  "Sweet  Chariot"  and  other  religious  hymns 
were  freely  translated  on  the  Russian  program  as  cries  of  proletarian 
revolt.  Waylin  Rudd,  another  American  Negro,  danced  superbly, 
and  acted  in  the  Meyerhold  Theatre  and  in  Soviet  films.  He  became 
a  Soviet  citizen.  But  of  course  Moscow  lost  its  heart,  as  most  cities 
and  individuals  do,  to  Paul  Robeson. 

I  first  met  Paul  Robeson  in  his  London  apartment.  He  had  just 


192      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

played  the  leading  role  in  Sounders  of  the  River,  a  propaganda  film 
for  British  colonial  imperialism,  and  though  somewhat  ashamed  of 
his  contribution  to  that  cause  he  was  still  immersed  in  Black  Zion- 
ism, and  the  rooms  were  filled  with  African  masks,  weapons,  tro- 
phies, and  jungle  knickknacks,  At  the  same  time,  Paul  had  already 
learned  Russian  and  sang  it  beautifully.  Discussions  with  him  were 
pleasant  for  many  reasons  but  also  because  he  would  frequently  break 
into  song  to  illustrate  an  argument.  I  predicted  that  Moscow  would 
cure  him  of  his  African  nationalism  and  suggested  that  he  go  there. 
But  Essie,  his  beautiful  wife,  said,  "Baby,  you  can't  do  that."  At 
which  point;  the  six-foot-six  baby,  All-American  football  star,  ex- 
ploded into  a  loud  rolling  laugh.  Later  he  did  go  to  Russia,  and  so 
did  Essie,  and  then  Essie  put  little  Paulie  to  school  in  Russia  and 
sent  her  mother  to  take  care  of  him  there,  and  Paul  Robeson  aban- 
doned his  solution  for  one  race  and  continent  and  moved  into  the 
radical  movement  in  England  and  sang  many  free  concerts  for  Left 
causes.  But  he  remained  an  African  nationalist  and  because  Moscow 
was  pro-Negro  Paul  felt  that  it  could  do  no  wrong,  even  when  it 
joined  hands  with  Hitler  who  was  anti-Negro.  Paul  has  a  big  body,  a 
big  mind,  and  a  big  heart.  He  would  be  a  great  artist  in  any  skin. 
Jacob  Epstein  did  a  bust  of  him.  But  it  was  almost  unnecessary.  He 
is  a  perfect  bit  of  sculpture  himself. 

Alexander  Woollcott  overshadowed  all  of  Moscow's  best  conver- 
sationalists. (On  one  trip  across  the  Atlantic,  he  talked  at  great  length 
to  me,  for  some  unknown  reason,  about  Charles  Dickens.)  But  the 
real  distinction  for  which  he  has  gone  down  into  the  history  of  for- 
eigners in  Moscow— apart  from  not  writing  a  book  on  Russia— was 
his  appearance  on  the  Red  Square  for  the  November  7  anniversary 
parade  without  an  overcoat.  That  day  the  army  turned  eyes  right 
on  Woollcott  instead  of  Stalin.  The  long  hours  in  the  grandstand 
on  November  7  were  always  murderously  cold  and  it  was  all  I  and 
most  others  could  do  to  stand  it  until  the  most  interesting  part  of 
the  demonstration  had  passed.  But  Aleck  stuck  his  paunch  out  and 
his  hands  in  his  pants'  pockets  and  watched  immovably.  At  the  oppo- 
site extreme  was  Linton  Wells  of  the  International  News  Service, 
who  one  year  brought  not  only  a  heavy  woolen  shawl  and  a  heavy 
overcoat  but  a  big  bottle  of  Scotch  in  the  overcoat  to  keep  the  tem- 
perature up.  In  the  beginning  I  disliked  Wells,  and  once  we  quar- 
reled. It  was  at  an  interview  in  Moscow  with  Colonel  Lindbergh 
who,  with  Anne,  had  swept  gracefully  down  on  the  Moskva  River 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  193 

in  his  plane  and  then  refused  to  talk.  The  correspondents,  especially 
Linton  Wells,  insisted  that  he  reveal  his  plans  and  Lindbergh  said 
he  wouldn't.  I  suggested  that  special  circumstances  had  created  in 
Lindbergh  an  attitude  of  mind  towards  publicity  which  we  ought 
to  respect,  whereat  Lint  said,  "Nuts."  But  later  we  were  reconciled. 
I  began  going  to  his  parties.  He  lived  just  one  flight  above  us  and 
if  I  didn't  go  I  was  kept  awake  anyway  by  the  dancing  and  prancing 
upstairs.  He  was  also  increasingly  appreciative  of  Soviet  efforts  at 
reconstruction  and  serious  about  his  work,  and  he  often  came  down 
to  talk  about  news  stories.  Sad  experience  taught  him  to  bring  his 
own  drinks,  and  if  he  rang  the  bell  and  arrived  with  a  glass  in  his 
hand  I  understood  he  had  come  for  a  short  while,  but  if  he  brought 
a  bottle  I  settled  down  to  longer  confab.  (I  met  Lindbergh  again 
several  years  later  at  the  estate  of  Thomas  Lamont,  Morgan  partner, 
where  he  argued  in  favor  of  a  strong  American  navy  capable  of 
taking  the  offensive  against  Japan  if  the  need  arose.) 

Elizabeth  Hawes,  pink  Schiaparelli,  hoped  to  teach  the  Russians 
to  dress  well.  The  Russians  found  her  styles  too  radical  and  con- 
tinued to  wear  their  conservative  clothes.  The  Bolsheviks  tend  to- 
ward quiet  conformism  in  everyday  personal  life.  For  that  matter, 
modern  revolutionists  are  obedient  conformists  in  politics,  too. 

Sholom  Asch,  Jewish  author  of  The  Nazarene,  was  interested 
almost  exclusively  in  the  Jewish  villages  of  the  Ukraine  and  Crimea 
and  in  those  villages  he  was  almost  exclusively  interested  in  what 
the  Jews  thought  of  Sholom  Asch.  He  would  ride  in  an  auto  across 
the  hot  steppes  and  if  he  saw  a  Jewish  farmer  off  in  the  broiling 
fields  he  would  have  him  summoned.  "Do  you  know  Sholom  Asch?" 
was  his  first  question  in  inimitable  Yiddish.  If  the  reply  was  nega- 
tive he  drove  on,  if  affirmative  he  asked  which  books  he  had  read, 
and  what  he  had  liked  in  them,  and  then  how  the  new  agricultural 
life  affected  city  Jews. 

Josephine  Herbst,  sensitive  novelist,  and  Mary  Heaton  Vorse,  vet- 
eran of  many  strikes,  were  deeply  interested  in  what  was  going  on 
in  Soviet  Russia.  So  was  Ella  Winter,  then  Mrs.  Lincoln  Steffens, 
subsequently  Mrs.  Donald  Ogden  Stewart. 

I  gave  Ella  the  idea  for  a  book,  and  sketched  it  with  her  chapter 
by  chapter  in  New  York.  It  was  to  be  a  Humanity  Uprooted  brought 
up  to  date,  humanity  striking  Soviet  roots.  Being  a  serious  industrious 
person,  Ella  went  to  Moscow  and  did  it. 

Margaret  and  Corliss  Lamont  also  wrote  an  enthusiastic  book 


194      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

which  they  meekly  entitled  Russia  Day  by  Day.  I  have  always  liked 
these  two  people.  Margaret,  scrupulously  honest,  is  a  Socialist,  her 
husband,  son  of  the  Morgan  partner,  stands  close  to  the  Communists. 
They  do  not  merely  give  money  to  radical  causes;  they  give  time, 
work,  and  heart.  Ideological  blunders  and  naivete  do  not  weigh  as 
heavily  in  the  balance  as  stubborn  devotion  to  one's  ideas.  Both  are 
Christian  reformers,  the  type  that  modestly  fights  for  principles  and 
has  a  religious  sense  of  social  duty. 

Will  Durant,  popularizer  of  the  lives  of  philosophers,  produced 
a  book  too.  He  crossed  Siberia  in  a  train,  then  spent  several  days  in 
Moscow;  he  called  his  book  The  Tragedy  of  Russia.  1933.  William 
Henry  Chamberlin,  reviewing  it  in  The  Nation,  lambasted  Durant's 
"efforts  to  rear  a  formidable  structure  of  sweeping  generalizations 
...  on  a  narrow  base  of  factual  observation."  He  might  have  added 
that  Durant  had  a  lot  of  company. 

Professors  came  in  great  numbers  to  the  Soviet  Union.  Among 
them  were  John  Dewey  and  his  daughter,  Ben  Cherrington,  execu- 
tive secretary  of  the  University  of  Denver  and  later  chief  of  a  sec- 
tion of  the  State  Department,  Professor  Heber  Harper,  Professor 
Samuel  Harper  of  Chicago— an  annual  visitor  and  careful  student,  and 
Professor  George  S.  Counts  of  Teachers  College,  Columbia,  whose 
Soviet  Challenge  to  America  was  the  best  book  I  had  seen  on  the  first 
Five  Year  Plan.  These  professors  saw  the  havoc  "which  the  depression 
was  working  in  western  capitalist  countries.  They  reflected  the  dis- 
gruntled view  of  university  youths  who  were  graduating  into  job- 
lessness or  into  jobs  at  filling  stations.  That  is  why  Counts'  sympa- 
thetic book  on  Russia  was  a  message  to  depressed  America.  (Walter 
Lippmann  asks  Professor  Counts  to  explain  that  attitude.  But  Lipp- 
mann,  the  historian,  has  forgotten  his  history.  Counts  does  not  have 
to  justify  his  critical  attitude  to  a  society  which  produced  two  wars 
in  twenty-five  years,  not  to  mention  the  distress  and  unemployment 
between  wars.  It  is  not  Counts'  fault  that  his  students  are  disillu- 
sioned. Those  students  merely  observe  the  world  in  which  they 
live.) 

I  have  looked  back  at  the  magazines  and  newspapers  of  that  period 
and  at  the  books  which  were  being  published.  It  was  a  time  of  search 
and  doubt.  Liberals  were  dropping  The  Nation  and  The  New  Re- 
public and  reading  Neiz?  Masses.  Miles  Shereover  sold  vast  quanti- 
ties of  Soviet  gold  bonds  to  Americans  who  had  faith  in  Russia's 
ability  to  pay  and  diffused  their  investments  as  a  guarantee  against 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  195 

collapse  at  home.  Intellectuals  played  with  technocracy,  government 
by  an  oligarchy  of  engineers.  Others  toyed  with  planning. 

In  a  New  York  trolley  a  poster  said,  "Don't  worry.  The  pendu- 
lum always  swings  back."  This  was  the  transit  company's  contribu- 
tion to  the  solution  of  America's  economic  problem.  An  American 
tobacco  firm  advertised  as  follows,  "The  economic  situation  is  bad. 
Bur  KEEJP  SMILING.  SMOKE  HAVANA  CIGARS."  Many  American  in- 
tellectuals turned  from  such  advice  to  a  study  of  Soviet  ideas  and 
economic  devices.  The  torrent  of  books  on  Russia  reflected  and  fed 
this  interest. 

Moscow's  long  list  of  foreign  callers  included  Waldo  Frank,  mys- 
tic rebel  and  fine  but  sometimes  opaque  stylist  who  lavished  admira- 
tion equally  on  Soviet  idealism  and  Soviet  women;  Emil  Ludwig, 
who  wrote  good  biographies  of  Germans  but  who  wrote  inade- 
'  quately  on  Russia;  Roy  W.  Howard,  who  had  an  historic  interview 
with  Stalin;  Lion  Feuchtwanger,  whose  Russian  stuff  was  very 
poor;  Julian  Bryan,  photographer,  who  annually  filmed  Soviet  prog- 
ress; Dr.  Harry  M.  Sigerist  of  Johns  Hopkins,  soft-spoken  intel- 
lectual, fierce  fighter,  and  stiff-necked  friend  of  the  Soviets;  Mary 
van  Kleeck,  Colonial  Dame,  Russell  Sage  economist  and  pro-Com- 
munist; Professors  Kingsbury  and  Fairchild  of  Bryn  Mawr,  academic 
twins  who  captured  the  minds  of  Soviet  planners;  W.  W.  Lancas- 
ter, liberal  legal  adviser  of  the  National  City  Bank,  who  took  time 
off  from  hopeless  negotiations  to  look  at  hopeful  social  experiments; 
Romain  RoUand— his  Jean  Christophe  had  thrilled  me  in  my  youth 
and  now  I  was  excited  to  see  him,  at  Gorky's  home,  in  the  flesh- 
adamantly  pro-Stalin;  Julio  Alvarez  del  Vayo,  Spanish  Socialist  diplo- 
mat, journalist,  and  his  Swiss  wife  Luisy,  who,  on  being  introduced 
to  King  Alfonso  in  a  private  house  in  Madrid,  said,  "How  do  you 
do,  Monsieur";  Andr6  Malraux,  whose  arguments  in  my  Moscow 
apartment  displayed  a  morbid  interest  in  death— we  met  often  later 
in  Madrid  near  death,  in  New  York,  and  in  Paris  during  the  second 
World  War;  Sherwood  Eddy  of  the  American  Y.M.C.A.,  a  friendly 
critic  of  and  commuter  to  the  Soviet  Union;  Cass  Canfield  of  Har- 
per's, and  his  wife;  Efrem  Zimbalist,  violin  virtuoso,  and  Alma 
Gluck,  opera  singer,  who  enrolled  their  daughter  in  the  Moscow 
Conservatory  of  Music  and  their  son  in  a  Soviet  high  school;  Pro- 
fessor Harry  F.  Ward  of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  whose 
Christianity  led  him  towards  the  Communism  he  hoped  to  see  in 
Russia;  Rabbi  Israel  Goldstein,  friend  of  my  youth  in  Philadelphia, 


196      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

who  found  that  Moscow  lay  on  the  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Brus- 
sels; Elmer  Rice,  social  playwright  who  came  with  his  whole  fam- 
ily, and  then  came  back  again;  and  a  host  of  others.  For  thousands 
of  intellectuals  and  intelligent  people  a  trip  to  Russia  had  become  a 
compulsory  summer  course  with  credit. 

Even  the  British  were  not  immune.  One  London  group  consisted 
of  the  three  young  Laborite  M.P.'s,  John  Strachey,  Aneurin  Bevan, 
and  George  Russell  Strauss,  plus  Celia  Simpson  and  Magda  Gellan. 
Another  included  David  Low,  the  Labor  cartoonist;  Yeats-Brown 
(Bengal  Lancer),  Yogi  in  India,  Nazi  in  England,  and  Kingsley  Mar- 
tin, editor  of  the  New  Statesman  and  Nation.  Low— three  letters 
that  are  a  hallmark  of  political  wisdom  and  draftsmanship— illustrated 
a  book  on  Russia  which  Martin  wrote.  Low,  with  no  Soviet  back- 
ground, saw  more  at  a  glance  than  many  people  after  years  of  study. 
Intuitively,  he  goes  to  the  heart  of  a  problem  and  finds  its  essence 
wrapped  in  comic  paradox. 

In  the  summer  of  1931,  George  Bernard  Shaw  visited  Moscow 
for  nine  days.  He  was  accompanied  by  Lady  Astor,  striving  hard  to 
be  the  enfant  terrible;  Lord  Astor,  quietly  embarrassed  by  his  wife; 
David  Astor,  whom  his  parents  scarcely  saved  from  Communism; 
and  Lord  Lothian,  whom  we  had  known  as  Philip  Kerr,  a  weighty 
journalist  and  Lloyd  George's  right-hand  finger.  But  certain  Britons 
have  a  strange  way  of  vanishing  suddenly  and  reappearing  in  a 
totally  different  incarnation,  and  one  day  Kerr  disappeared  forever 
and  became  the  Marquess  of  Lothian.  The  Astors  arrived  with  Mr. 
Tennant,  their  private  Christian  Science  healer,  who  took  sick,  and 
with  Maurice  Hindus,  and  through  Hindus  I  joined  them  and  ran 
around  with  them  a  good  deal  to  factories  and  parties.  As  their  auto- 
cade passed  through  city  streets  men  stopped  and  tipped  their  hats 
to  Shaw.  The  press  too  featured  Shaw.  The  Astors  and  Lothian  were 
"also  present."  In  Moscow,  at  least,  the  aristocrats  of  the  blood  trailed 
far  behind  the  aristocrat  of  art. 

I  was  standing  outside  the  Metropole  Hotel  one  afternoon  with 
Hindus  when  Lady  Astor,  returning  from  an  excursion,  stopped  to 
talk  to  us.  Then  she  said,  "Well,  I  must  be  going.  I  promised  Mrs. 
Shaw  to  wash  GJB.S.'s  hair  with  Lux  twice  a  week."  She  had  brought 
several  boxes  of  Lux  with  her  from  London. 

Shaw  publicly  admitted  that  he  was  in  fine  fettle.  Towering  above 
a  group  of  devotees  that  surrounded  him  one  morning  in  the  lobby 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  197 

of  the  Metropole,  he  roared,  "This  Russian  black  bread  is  wonder- 
ful. I  never  evacuated  so  well  in  all  my  life."  He  celebrated  his 
seventy-fifth  birthday  in  Moscow  but  behaved  like  forty,  always 
eager  to  go  places,  ever  wide-awake  and  ready  to  sell  his  grand- 
mother or  son— had  he  had  either— for  a  pun. 

With  Litvinov,  Jacob  Suritz,  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Turkey,  and 
others,  we  visited  the  Bolshevo  Commune,  several  miles  from  Mos- 
cow, where  the  government  gave  young  criminals,  mostly  thieves 
and  mostly  boys,  complete  freedom  and  an  unique  opportunity  to 
remold  their  lives.  We  sat  in  a  garden  surrounded  by  hundreds  of 
them  and  now  Litvinov,  now  I,  translated  the  colloquy.  Shaw  told 
them  he  had  once  been  a  thief  and  gave  them  the  details.  It  is  all 
right,  he  advised,  until  you're  found  out.  He  might  have  wrecked 
the  commune. 

For  many  years,  I  spent  one  day  each  year  at  the  commune.  The 
girl  ex-thieves  had  their  own  dormitory  which  was  much  cleaner 
than  the  boys7.  One  girl  had  a  tattoo  on  her  forearm  which  read, 
"There  is  no  happiness  in  life."  It  was  made  in  prison.  Another  girl 
hid  her  right  hand  behind  her  back  when  I  asked  her  to  let  me  see 
the  tattoo  on  it.  Finally,  blushingly,  she  yielded.  It  read,  "This  hand 
will  avenge  Kolya  Svertkov's  deed."  She  refused  to  tell  me  what  the 
deed  was,  but  announced  triumphantly  that  Kolya  Svertkov  had 
been  shot. 

During  the  Shaw  visit  to  Bolshevo,  the  visitors  organized  a  team  to 
play  the  Russians'  favorite  game  of  volley  ball.  Shaw  did  not  play 
but  Lothian  did,  and  this  was  the  only  time  during  the  nine  days  that 
I  saw  him  come  out  of  his  reserve  and  calm.  Lady  Astor  played  on 
the  thieves'  team. 

Shaw  and  his  titled  friends  had  an  interview  with  Stalin.  When 
the  American  correspondents  later  asked  G.B.S.  for  comments,  he 
saidi'  "I  shall  get  $i  a  word  from  one  of  your  foolish  newspapers  to 
write  about  this  interview.  Why  should  I  tell  you?"  But  as  usual 
some  things  trickled  out.  Lady  Astor -asked  Stalin  when  they  would 
stop  killing  people;  he  replied,  "When  it's  no  longer  necessary." 
Stalin  said  Winston  Churchill  would  lead  England  in  a  crisis,  perhaps 
as  a  Fascist.  Whereupon  Lady  Nancy— in  the  days  of  Cliveden  ap- 
peasement some  of  her  enemies  called  her  "Lady  Nazi"— exclaimed, 
"No,  we  don't  like  too  clever  people."  Lord  Astor  kept  his  counsel 
but  asked  penetrating  questions. 

Before  leaving  Moscow,  Lady  Astor  was  quoted  as  saying  that 


198      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Russia  was  "the  best-run  country  on  earth,"  while  Shaw  said,  "I 
was  a  Communist  before  Lenin."  But  since  then  the  Communists,  as 
usual,  had  come  to  him,  and  they  were  no  longer  Communists,  but 
Fabian  Socialists. 

Lothian,  when  still  Philip  Kerr,  had  given  his  opinion  long  before, 
in  the  London  Observer  of  September  22,  1929.  He  wrote,  "Russia 
has  dethroned  usury  from  the  altar  on  which  it  now  stands  in  West- 
ern civilization,  has  rendered  it  almost  impossible  for  anyone  to  live, 
or  at  least  to  live  comfortably,  except  by  the  fruits  of  his  own  work, 
and  has  made  the  great  engine  of  economic  production  and  distribu- 
tion function  for  the  general  good  and  not  for  private  profit." 

Lord  Lothian  told  the  London  School  of  Economics  when  he  got 
back  from  Russia  that  he  was  "inclined  to  think  that  behind  the 
Russian  revolution  lies  a  body  of  fundamental  economic  idealism 
which  is  going  to  have  a  prodigious  influence  on  the  history  of  man- 
kind." Thus,  what  he  saw  in  Russia  in  1931,  confirmed  what  he  had 
thought  of  Russia  in  1929.  This  was  true  of  so  many  visitors:  they 
came  to  see  what  they  wanted  to  see,  good  and  bad;  they  came  to 
find  corroboration  of  views  previously  held  and  opinions  previously 
expressed. 

Bernard  Shaw,  of  course,  is  the  young-old  playwright  playboy, 
incalculable  and  impressionistic,  loving  above  all  to  shock.  But  Bea- 
trice and  Sidney  Webb  were  old  and  trained  social  scientists  whose 
work  had  influenced  a  whole  generation  of  British  thinking.  They 
were  founders  of  Fabian  Socialism,  socialism  by  evolution,  and  their 
doctrine  was  "the  inevitability  of  gradualness."  They  too  came  to 
the  Soviet  Union.  Beatrice  Webb  was  born  in  1858  and  her  husband 
in  1859.  At  such  advanced  ages,  the  system  usually  rejects  change 
and  conduces  to  conservatism.  But  they  came  and  saw  and  were 
conquered. 

This  ancient  British  couple,  who  had  written  scores  of  classic 
works  together—they  were  always  "the  Webbs,"  though  I  suspect 
Beatrice  is  the  bigger  Webb— looked  strange  in  Moscow.  They  trav- 
eled extensively  in  the  country  gathering  material  but  making  less 
noise  than  an  ex-governor  of  Kansas  and  certainly  less  than  the  Shaw- 
Astor-Lothian  troupe.  At  dinner  in  our  apartment,  they  told  of  one 
incident  in  Tiflis.  Every  Bolshevik  of  course  knew  "Sidnay  and  Bia- 
triche  Vebb"  because  Lenin  had  translated  their  book  on  Trade 
Unionism.  But  that  was  back  in  1900,  and  when  they  were  intro- 
duced in  Tiflis,  someone  said  with  spontaneous  surprise,  "Why,  I 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  199 

thought  you  were  dead."  They  were  so  much  alive,  however,  that 
they  commenced  to  write  a  major  opus  on  Soviet  Communism:  A 
New  Civilization?  which  ran  to  1,174  pag68-  In  J934»  age^  7&  and 
75,  they  came  again  to  Soviet  Russia  for  more  data. 

In  1935  Mrs.  Webb— she  never  allowed  anyone  to  call  her  Lady, 
and  he  very  reluctantly  submitted  to  "His  Lordship"  only  while 
he  was  minister  in  the  British  Labor  government— invited  me  to  lunch 
in  their  country  home  at  Passfield  Corner,  Hants.  They  plied  me 
with  questions  for  a  whole  morning.  We  sat  in  their  library,  one 
extensive  wall  of  which  was  covered  with  shelves  containing  their 
own  publications.  At  lunch,  I  had  to  ask  repeatedly  for  more  food 
because  I  was  being  served  the  meager  vegetarian  ration  which  they, 
.and  Shaw  when  he  dropped  in  from  his  near-by  farm,  munched 
slowly.  After  lunch  Mrs.  Webb  put  on  a  lace  night  cap  and  said  she 
would  retire  for  a  nap,  while  Sidney  took  me  for  a  walk  in  the 
woods.  Roley-poley  body  on  short  legis,  he  led  me  a  merry  race  until 
suddenly  he  cried,  "Here  I  cast  myself  upon  the  ground."  And  he 
did.  He  stretched  out  on  the  barren  December  earth  and  relaxed 
and  inhaled  deeply,  and  two  moments  later  resumed  his  walk  at 
breakneck  speed. 

Harold  J.  Laski  visited  Moscow  with  his  wife  in  1934.  He  was 
then  a  friendly  critic  of  Communism  and  a  left-wing  laborite,  Left 
enough  to  be  permitted  to  lecture  at  the  Moscow  University  but  not 
Left  enough  to  escape  the  jibes  of  planted  hecklers  of  high  academic 
standing.  Laski  is  brilliant  and  witty.  Labor  audiences  and  classes  at 
the  London  School  of  Economics  hear  him  to  be  entertained  and 
go  away  enlightened.  He  knows  everybody  and  has  the  pardonable 
frailty  of  revealing  it  on  every  occasion.  "And  I  said,  *Now  Stan- 
ley .  .  .'  And  Baldwin  said  to  me,  'Harold  .  .  .' "  Or:  "I  said,  T.D., 
what  you  think  of  .  .  .  ?'  and  the  President  laughed  and  asked  me 
to  tell  him  about  .  .  ."  The  point  is,  it's  true.  He  has  spoken  to 
everybody  of  importance  in  England,  knows  the  best  minds  in  Amer- 
ica, and  has  met  the  statesmen  of  the  continent.  In  Moscow  he  had 
a  talk  with  Lazar  Kaganovitch,  second  most  important  man  in  the 
Soviet  Union  who  is  rarely  seen  by  foreigners.  A  remarkably  reten- 
tive memory  and  a  unique  choice  of  phrase  enable  him  to  character- 
sketch  prominent  personalities  by  stringing  their  statements  on  a 
silver  thread  of  his  own.  The  British  Labor  Party,  of  whose  inner 
executive  committee  he  is  a  member,  avails  itself  of  his  services  in 
formulating  political  programs  and  manifestoes.  He  is  a  younger 


200      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Webb,  streamlined  by  the  twentieth  century  and  America.  Laski, 
apart  from  all  else,  is  a  great  journalist  whose  sentences  are  not  only 
epic  in  phrasing  but  epic  in  meaning. 

Throughout  the  crowded  years  in  Russia,  I  met  many  kings  of 
the  spirit  who  visited  it  from  every  land.  I  met  Dr.  Fridjhof  Nansen, 
whose  tales  of  Arctic  explorations  won  my  boyhood  fancy  and  who 
after  the  War  became  a  great  relief  administrator;  Sir  Rabindranath 
Tagore,  the  Indian  poet  and  sage  who  liked  Moscow  despite  his  paci- 
fism and  its  violence;  Jawaharlal  Nehru,  the  Hindu  leader;  Karin 
Michaelis,  the  Danish  author;  Henri  Barbusse,  who  talked  to  me 
chiefly  about  Jesus  Christ;  Agnes  Smedley,  who  channeled  a  pas- 
sionate temperament  into  politics,  a  brilliant  writer  and  journalist, 
bravest  of  afi  American  foreign  correspondents  for  she  braved  China's 
diseases  and  wars  and  the  Chinese  gunmen  who  wanted  to  earn  the 
Japanese  reward  for  bringing  her  in  "dead  or  alive";  Mrs.  Sun  Yat- 
sen,  true  and  noble  revolutionist  who  hid  Miss  Smedley  when  the 
gunmen  came  too  close— and  many  many  others  with  lesser  names 
but  fine  hearts  and  a  devotion  to  mankind  which  sent  them  searching 
in  Russia  for  an  indefinable  something. 

Many  thousands  of  Americans,  Britons,  Germans,  wished  to  settle 
in  Russia  during  those  years.  Many  hundreds  did,  and  many  more 
would  have  but  for  restrictions  imposed  by  the  Soviet  government. 
Frequently  men  and  women  entered  on  tourist  visas  and  tried  tb  stay, 
but  the  police  would  not  let  them.  The  authorities  wanted  only  regu- 
lated immigration  and  were  prepared  for  only  a  small  trickle  of 
that.  Sometimes  I  felt  like  an  employment  agency.  "I  am  anxious 
to  live  in  Russia  for  a  year,"  read  a  typical  letter,  this  one  from 
an  executive  director  of  an  educational  association  in  New  Jersey 
and  an  old  friend  of  mine.  "What  are  the  possibilities  of  my  finding 
employment?"  I  advised  him  to  learn  to  drive  a  tractor.  But  he 
rejected  this  wise  counsel,  came  to  give  English  lessons,  became  a 
correspondent  of  British  and  American  papers,  became  a  Communist, 
and  named  his  son  Karl— after  Marx  or/and  Radek. 

Critics  of  the  waste  and  high  social  cost  of  capitalism,  these  tour- 
ists-to-an-ideology  wanted  to  see  a  society  groping  toward  its  goal 
without  benefit  of  private  bankers,  holding  companies,  business  mag- 
nates, and  stock  markets.  Many  of  them  were  fascinated  by  the  phe- 
nomena of  growth  and  popular  enthusiasm  in  Russia.  Where  there 
had  been  nothing,  a  factory  or  a  whole  city  or  a  giant  farm  had 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  201 

come  into  being  for  everybody.  The  hum  of  creation  stirred  them. 
Other  nations  had  built  just  as  quickly  and  much  better  than  Soviet 
Russia.  While  they  built,  individualism  ran  amuck  and  victory  was 
to  the  strong,  sometimes  to  the  corrupt.  The  Bolsheviks,  however, 
aimed  to  guide  individual  ambitions  into  the  national  energy  fund 
for  the  common  weal. 

In  1932,  the  managing  directors  of  Soviet  "giants"— the  new  mam- 
moth industrial  plants— were  summoned  to  Moscow  for  a  technical 
conference.  Inevitably,  one  session  was  a  banquet  to  which  foreign 
correspondents  received  invitations.  In  Russia,  there  are  no  intro- 
ductions by  a  third  person;  each  person  gives  his  own  name.  When 
the  directors  introduced  themselves  to  me,  they  did  not  say  "Dibetz" 
or  "Svistun."  One  shook  me  by  the  hand  and  said  "Dnieperstroi" 
which  was  the  name  of  the  big  hydro-electric  station  and  dam  on 
the  Dnieper.  Another  said,  "Autostroi,"  which  was  the  name  of  the 
automobile  factory  on  the  Volga;  another  "Magnitogorsk,"  the  huge 
magnetic  steel  city  in  the  Urals. 

"Uetat  c'est  moi?  a  girl  college  student  from  Leningrad  said  to 
me.  "You  see,  I  am  the  state.  Its  problems,  troubles,  and  victories  are 
mine.  Our  minds  are  turned  outward,"  she  explained  when  she  heard 
that  the  depression  turned  many  American  minds  toward  psycho- 
analysis and  glands.  "I  would  be  bored  to  death  if  I  had  only  myself 
to  think  of  and  take  care  of." 

Walking  barefooted  down  a  dirt  road,  a  Russian  boy  said  to  Maur- 
ice Hindus,  "We  have  put  the  word  'riches'  into  the  museum."  A 
Soviet  arithmetic  teacher  gave  the  class  this  example,  "If  a  man  buys 
six  dozen  apples  at  eighteen  kopeks  an  apple  and  sells  them  at  thirty- 
six  kopeks  an  apple  what  does  he  get?"  A  boy  waved  his  hand 
wildly  and  exclaimed,  "A  jail  sentence."  This  illustrated  a  basic  prin- 
ciple of  Soviet  economics  but  also  a  basic  change  in  Soviet  psy- 
chology. 

In  the  summer  of  1932,  I  spent  a  week  at  the  Putilov  factory  in 
Leningrad.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  largest  steel  and  machine- 
making  plants  in  Russia,  covering  an  area  of  seven  square  miles.  I 
lived  on  the  premises  in  a  workingman's  dwelling,  went  swimming 
with  the  workers,  visited  their  homes,  attended  their  meetings,  ate 
with  the  personnel,  talked  to  an  endless  array  of  employees,  inter- 
viewed the  director  several  times,  and  inspected  many  of  the  work- 
shops where  they  made  locomotives,  turbines,  freight  cars,  dredgers. 
I.  went  back  the  next  summer  and  again  the  next  summer  and  then 


202      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

a  fourth  time  so  that  I  could  gauge  progress  and  change.  The  Putilov 
people  knew  me  and  I  knew  many  of  them.  They  took  pride  in  their 
factory.  They  pointed  out  to  me  the  new  trees  and  flowerbeds 
planted  since  my  last  stay,  the  new  foundries  erected,  the  new  mil- 
lion-ruble clubhouse  built  near  the  plant  for  the  28,000  workers, 
and  the  volumes  acquired  by  the  tremendous  library.  As  I  walked 
around  the  place,  men  would  call  out  to  me,  "Look  at  this.  This 
wasn't  here  last  year." 

Many  expensive  imported  lathes  functioned  in  the  turbine  shop. 
Each  one  had  an  inscription  painted  on  it  like  this:  "Comrade,  your 
lathe  costs  17,500  gold  rubles.  Take  care  of  it."  I  asked  whether 
this  really  meant  something  to  the  mechanics.  One  of  them  an- 
swered, "If  I  spoil  my  machine  the  government  will  have  to  export 
more  of  our  butter  and  eggs  to  buy  another."  In  a  sense  it  was  a 
factory  with  28,000  bosses. 

The  director's  chauffeur  told  me  that  he  previously  worked  in  the 
foundry  but  had  to  be  transferred  on  account  of  his  bad  lungs.  I 
said,  "This  is  much  better,  isn't  it?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "there  I  was  producing.  Here  I  am  merely  serv- 
ing somebody." 

Soviet  citizens  knew  that  they  were  making  history  and  paying 
the  cost.  I  used  to  visit  the  Dnieperstroi  construction  every  year.  In 
1930,  I  clambered  over  the  red  granite  boulders  which  form  the 
bed  of  the  broad  Dnieper.  The  river  had  been  checked  and  diverted. 
Five  years  later  I  drove  by  car  over  a  road  on  top  of  a  wall  1 10  feet 
high.  The  wall  rested  on  those  boulders.  The  wall  was  the  Dnieper 
dam  creating  810,000  horsepower  of  electricity.  At  the  official  in- 
auguration of  the  dam  and  the  industrial  city  that  rose  round  it,  I 
stood  on  the  periphery  of  the  crowd  which  consisted  of  the  working- 
men  who  had  built  it  and  the  peasants  from  near-by  villages.  I  heard 
one  typical  Russian  laborer  say  as  he  watched  the  water  rush  in  a 
Niagara  cascade  over  the  lofty  concrete  dam,  "Now  I  know  where 
my  butter  and  boots  went."  He  had  made  an  investment  in  the  eco- 
nomic upbuilding  of  his  country.  The  whole  nation  had  invested 
heavily,  invested  lives,  health,  nerves,  and  faith.  A  regime  which 
accepts  such  an  investment  from  depositors  accepts  a  tremendous 
responsibility.  The  inspiration  of  the  Five  Year  Plans  was  better  food, 
clothes  and  shelter— a  better  life  tomorrow.  But  not  a  too  distant  to- 
morrow. For  Russia  had  lived  in  misery  since  1915.  From  1915  t$ 


REVOLUTION  COMES  INTO  ITS  OWN  203 

1935— for  many  people  that  represented  a  whole  lifetime,  a  whole 
lifetime  spent  in  hardship. 

The  Nazis  said  bluntly:  Your  butter  is  making  guns.  Guns  lead 
to  war.  The  German  people  cannot  have  been  surprised  or  disap- 
pointed on  September  i,  1939.  But  the  Bolsheviks  said:  Your  butter 
will  make  electricity,  steel,  and  coal.  The  electricity,  steel,  and  coal 
will  make  shirts,  shoes,  houses,  transportation  facilities,  books,  de- 
fense weapons,  peace,  and  freedom.  That  was  the  hope  which  in- 
spired the  effort  of  the  years  from  1929  to  1935.  The  added  invest- 
ment exhausted  most  Soviet  citizens.  But  toward  the  end  of  1934, 
and  especially  in  1935,  they  saw  material  improvement  and  relaxa- 
tion of  the  terror.  The  country  was  better  protected  against  attack. 
Russians  felt  they  would  have  peace.  In  1917,  Lenin  promised  peace 
and  bread.  The  promise  was  now  beginning  to  be  fulfilled. 


II.  At  Home 

EACH  year  I  came  home  from  Europe  to  lecture  and  refresh 
myself  with  friendship. 
Lecturing  in  America  helped  me  to  write.  It  was  difficult 
to  write  five  thousand  miles  from  my  editors  and  seven  thousand 
miles  from  some  readers.  Lecturing  is  more  intimate,  especially  since 
I  have  the  disconcerting  faculty  of  seeing  hundreds  of  faces  while  I 
stand  in  front  of  them  and  talk.  And  I  occasionally  remember  those 
faces  when  I  meet  them  again  and  wonder  where  I  have  seen  them 
before.  I  find  that  most  American  audiences  start  out  with  a  sym- 
pathy for  the  speaker  which  he  forfeits  only  by  his  own  grievous 
fault.  The  size  of  an  audience,  its  interest  in  what  is  being  said,  affect 
the  quality  of  a  lecture.  Question  time  is  the  best  because  one  comes 
to  grips  with  the  listeners*  minds.  In  radical  groups  there  are  always 
a  few  who  make  speeches  instead  of  putting  questions,  but  usually 
questioners  seek  enlightenment  or  helpfully  try  to  keep  the  ball 
rolling. 

Lecturing  in  America  has  also  helped  me  to  see  America.  It  has 
taught  me  geography,  regional  history,  psychology,  and  a  few  more 
things.  I  was  in  Detroit  in  1933  when  all  the  banks  closed.  I  had  no 
money  and  no  one  I  knew  had  money.  Checks  were  no  good  and 
nobody  knew  when  they  would  be  good.  So  the  hotel  manager  sim- 
ply told  me  to  leave  without  paying  my  bill.  In  cities  and  on  trains 
the  emergency  created  a  camaraderie,  unity,  and  universal  loqua- 
ciousness that  were  comforting  and  heartening. 

The  first  time  I  visited  San  Francisco,  kind  hosts  showed  me  the 
city  and  its  environs.  They  asked  me  how  I  liked  it.  I  said  it  was 
one  of  the  finest  places  I  had  ever  seen.  They  asked  whether  it  wasn't 
more  beautiful  than  Los  Angeles.  I  said  I  had  never  been  to  Los 
Angeles.  No,  but  surely,  they  insisted,  Los  Angeles  couldn't  be  as 
beautiful  as  this.  I  repeated  I  couldn't  tell.  They  were  deeply  disap- 
pointed and  I  realized  that  a  deadly  feud  existed  between  the  two 
great  cities. 

I  am  fascinated  by  the  ties  that  exist  between  Iowa  and  Nebraska 

204 


AT  HOME  205 

and  Southern  California,  between  New  England  and  Cleveland,  be- 
tween Florida  and  Spain,  and  between  New  England  and  England. 
The  portraits  on  the  walls  of  a  dining  room  in  a  Hartford  mansion 
took  me  right  back  to  the  eighteenth  century. 

Lecturing  is  usually  tranquil.  But  sometimes  there  were  storms. 
For  instance:  March  20,  1932.  The  ballroom  of  the  Bellevue-Strat- 
ford  Hotel  in  Philadelphia.  Foreign  Policy  Association  luncheon. 
Chairman:  Francis  A.  Biddle,  noted  Philadelphia  lawyer,  later 
United  States  Solicitor  General.  Speakers:  Calvin  B.  Hoover,  Pro- 
fessor at  Drake  University,  Eve  Garret  Grady,  wife  of  an  Ameri- 
can engineer  formerly  employed  by  the  Soviet  Government,  and 
myself.  Subject:  Russia. 

The  luncheon  became  front-page  news. 

Mrs.  Grady  had  just  published  a  book  about  the  Soviet  Union  en- 
titled Seeing  Red.  She  contributed  articles  to  the  Saturday  Evening 
Post  and  other  magazines  and  spoke  over  .the  radio— always  against 
the  Soviets.  What  she  said  was  so  glaringly  rmfair  to  her  readers, 
to  listeners,  and  to  Russia  that  I  decided  to  take  this  opportunity  to 
expose  her.  Mrs.  Grady  spoke  first  and  indulged  in  her  usual  denun- 
ciations of  the  Soviets.  Then  I  spoke. 

"Truth,"  I  said,  "is  the  highest  of  moral  values.  Honesty  is  greater 
than  politeness.  In  view  of  conflicting  presentations  of  Russian  con- 
ditions, and  since  America  is  so  far  from  Russia  that  few  Americans 
have  their  own  basis  for  judgment,  the  veracity  and  character  of 
the  reporter  play  an  important  role."  While  she  lived  with  her  hus- 
band in  the  Soviet  Union,  I  continued,  Mrs.  Grady  wrote  favorable 
articles  for  the  Moscow  Daily  News,  a  Bolshevik  publication.  At  one 
period  she  published  an  article  giving  luscious  details  of  the  abun- 
dance of  food  in  the  mining  district  where  she  lived.  But  after  leav- 
ing Russia  she  published  an  article  in  an  American  magazine  and  re- 
ferring to  the  same  place  and  the  same  period  she  declared  that  there 
had  been  a  serious  lack  of  food.  I  read  excerpts  from  both  articles. 
Moreover,  Mrs.  Grady  had  written  that  she  was  expelled  from  Rus- 
sia for  circulating  a  joke  about  Stalin.  "That  is  untrue,"  I  declared. 
She  left  Russia  because  her  husband  was  dismissed  by  the  Soviet 
government.  I  then  read  the  copy  of  a  telegram  sent  by  Mr.  Grady 
to  a  high  Soviet  official  declaring  that  in  case  the  Soviet  govern- 
ment did  not  renew  his  contract  he  would  conduct  propaganda 
against  it  in  the  United  States  and  stating  that  he  had  numerous 


206      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

influential  friends  in  America,  among  whom  he  named  Senator  Borah. 
The  Soviet  government,  however,  did  not  renew  his  contract  and 
when  he  and  his  wife  left,  Mrs.  Grady  commenced  fulfilling  the 
threat  which  was  contained  in  her  husband's  telegram.  At  this  point 
I  dropped  the  subject  of  Mrs.  Grady  and  proceeded  with  my  address 
on  Moscow's  foreign  policy.  When  I  sat  down  the  Chairman  gave 
Mrs.  Grady  a  chance  to  reply.  She  rose  and  said,  "It  has  frequently 
been  said  that  to  be  true  to  one's  self  one  has  to  be  a  cad.  I  think 
that  Mr.  Fischer  is  being  true  to  himself." 

"Francis  A.  Biddle,  the  Chairman,"  according  to  the  newspapers, 
"leaped  to  his  feet,  hammered  with  his  gavel  and  interrupting  Mrs. 
Grady,  rebuked  her."  "I  will  not  sit  here,"  he  declared,  "and  listen 
to  that  kind  of  veiled  insults  in  this  hall."  "Whereat,"  said  the  Phil- 
adelphia Inquirer,  "there  was  loud  applause."  Mrs.  Grady  sat  down. 
Mr.  Biddle  offered  her  another  opportunity  to  deny  my  charges  or 
dispute  my  facts,  but  she  refused. 

Hoover  leaned  over  to  me  and  whispered,  "While  you  were  talk- 
ing Mrs.  Grady  said  to  me,  'What  would  you  do  in  such  a  situa- 
tion?' "  And  Hoover  replied,  "I  wouldn't  get  into  such  a  situation." 

Mrs.  Grady  sat  at  her  place  for  a  few  moments  weeping.  Some 
people  said  she  fainted  and  was  escorted  out  of  the  room.  Actually 
she  walked  out  at  least  an  hour  before  the  luncheon  was  over  and 
never  returned.  But  more  important:  after  this  luncheon  Mrs.  Grady 
ceased  writing,  ceased  speaking  on  the  radio,  ceased  appearing  pub- 
licly. Since  then  I  have  never  heard  one  word  about  her  nor  has 
any  one  of  the  many  people  of  whom  I  have  made  inquiries. 

During  a  Pacific  Coast  tour  in  1933, 1  spoke  in  Spokane  at  the  con- 
vention of  the  Inland  Empire  Education  Association.  Lincoln  Stef- 
fens  and  I  were  the  guest  speakers  and  each  of  us  delivered  three 
addresses. 

"Make  'em  laugh,"  Steffens  advised.  "Then  you  can  say  anything. 
You  can  tell  Americans  to  go  to  hell  provided  you  do  it  with  a  joke 
or  anecdote.  I  always  preach  revolution,"  he  confessed.  "But  I  make 
it  funny  and  they  don't  mind."  They  didn't,  and  he  went  much 
further  than  I  did,  while  I  got  into  trouble.  For,  as  one  paper  said, 
I  was  advocating  American  recognition  of  Soviet  Russia:  "FISCHER 
WANTS  HAND  EXTENDED  TO  RED  RUSSIA."  The  S.A.R.  (Sons  of  the 
American  Revolution)  adopted  a  protest  and  published  it  in  the 
press.  The  D.A.R.  passed  a  vote  of  horror  (though  some  of  them 
came  backstage  and  said  they  agreed  with  me).  Most  indignant  of 


AT  HOME  207 

all,  it  seems,  was  Turnbull-"ScHOOL  SPEAKER  ROILS  TURNBULL 
WITH  Russ  TALK";  Turnbull  was  Alex  Turnbull,  president  of  the 
Board  of  Education,  and  he  got  so  angry  after  my  morning  speech 
that  he  wanted  to  stop  my  speech  in  the  afternoon. 

A  reporter  rushed  into  the  breach,  and  the  following  brilliant  in- 
terchange took  place.  I  quote: 

"Dr.  Fischer"— a  lecturer  usually  becomes  Doctor,  it's  more  im- 
pressive—"we  are  informed  the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revo- 
lution are  keeping  a  close  check  on  your  movements.  It  is  said  they 
believe  you  are  in  the  employ  of  the  Russian  soviet.  You  undoubt- 
edly know  about  these  things.  What  have  you  to  say?"  .  .  . 

"Junk,"  Dr.  Fischer  replied;  "just  junk!  Similar  charges  were  made 
against  Senator  Borah  and  others  who  have  visited  Russia  and  have 
told  the  facts  about  Russia.  Such  charges  are  the  work  of  closed- 
minded  reactionaries." 

"Are  you  advocating  a  Communist  form  of  government  for  the 
United  States?"  the  interviewer  asked. 

"I  am  not  mentioning  America  in  these  lectures.  I  don't  know 
anything  about  America." 

"Are  you  not  an  American?" 

"Yes,  I'm  an  American,  but  I  don't  know  anything  about  Amer- 


ica." 


"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  know  more  about  Russia  than  you 
know  about  the  United  States?" 

"I  do.  I  have  been  in  Russia  ten  years  making  a  study  of  Russia.  I 
have  never  made  a  study  of  the  United  States." 

The  parting  blow  was  the  worst  of  all.  "Your  statements,"  the 
reporter  asserted,  "differ  with  those  made  by  Will  Durant  who  lec- 
tured here  recently."  I  pleaded  guilty. 

What  I  really  thought  abotit  revolution  in  America  was  correctly 
quoted,  with  approval  incidentally,  in  the  Scripps-Howard  San 
Francisco  News.  I  said: 

"No  Communist  revolution  is  possible  in  any  country  until  the 
whole  middle  class  is  impoverished.  We  still  have  a  huge  middle 
class,  and  we  have  as  yet  no  proletariat,  which  means  a  class  of 
workers  who  own  no  property  and  have  no  hope  of  owning  any. 

"Steps  toward  revolution  are  the  development  of  a  proletariat,  the 
rise  of  a  large  class  of  tenant  farmers,  and  the  impoverishment  of 
the  middle  class.  We  have  the  beginnings  of  all  three,  but  we  still 


208      WORLD  CRISIS  A&D  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

have  the  utmost  confidence  in  our  ability  to  check  them  by  a  resort 
to  state  capitalism  and  even  to  state  socialism. 
'   "The  greatest  element  of  stability  in  any  social  order  is  hope,  and 
we  have  tremendous  reserves  of  hope.  Not  until  hope  is  lost  is  a 
people  ready  for  the  desperate  expedient  of  revolution." 

During  the  many  years  in  which  I  wrote  and  lectured  about  the 
Soviet  Union  I  was  of  course  accused  of  being  a  Soviet  agent,  the 
recipient  of  Soviet  gold,  and  a  Communist.  Such  gossip  never  both- 
ered me.  I  asked  for  the  proof.  There  could  be  no  proof  because  it 
was  and  is  untrue.  If  I  had  been  a  Communist  I  should  not  have  been 
ashamed  or  afraid  to  affirm  it.  I  was  never  an  official  or  an  unofficial 
representative  of  the  Soviet  government  or  of  the  Comintern  or  of 
any  branch  or  department  of  either.  I  never  carried  out  any  mission 
for  Moscow  or  anyone  in  it.  In  1925,  I  worked  for  four  months  in 
the  Soviet  Telegraphic  Agency  (TASS)  office  in  London  in  the 
capacity  of  journalistic  expert  on  international  politics,  much  as 
Colonel  Hugh  Cooper  and  other  American  specialists  worked  for 
the  Soviet  government.  That  was  the  closest  and  the  last  connection 
I  had  with  the  Soviets.  I  was  pro-Soviet  when  I  thought  the  Soviet 
government  was  doing  good,  and  I  am  anti-Soviet  now  because  I 
think  the  Soviet  government  is  doing  more  harm  than  good. 

But  it  is  interesting  to  scrutinize  those  who  made  these  charges. 
They  had  not  a  shred  of  evidence  and  had  only  their  anger  to  guide 
them.  Because  I  was  pro-Soviet  I  was  accused  of  being  in  the  pay 
of  Moscow.  What  does  that  mean?  That  one  could  not  be  pro- 
Soviet  except  for  pay.  That  seems  to  me  to  reflect  sadly  on  the 
character  of  the  persons  making  the  charges.  Is  it  not  possible  to 
take  a  stand  out  of  conviction  and  deep  belief?  Apparently  with 
some  people  only  money  counts  and  they  cannot  understand  any- 
thing except  in  terms  of  price.  Or,  not  being  able  to  answer  an  ob- 
server's statements,  they  try  to  smother  him  in  mud. 

I  have  all  my  life  been  devoted  to  one  cause  or  another.  I  cannot 
imagine  life  without  something  higher  than  myself  in  which  I  can 
have  faith.  Naturally  that  colors  my  writing.  But  who  is  objective? 
Only  a  jellyfish  has  no  prejudices.  I  endeavor  to  reduce  mine  to  a 
minimum.  Truth  with  me  is  a  passion,  and  I  do  not  hold  that  a  cause 
is  worth  much  if  it  must  live  on  lies.  I  write  as  I  please  and  what  I 
believe  to  be  true.  I  was  a  passionate  partisan  of  Loyalist  Spain.  But 
my  first  article  on  Spain  at  war  was  so  unfavorable  that  the  Madrid 


AT  HOME  209 

censor  refused  to  pass  it.  I  nevertheless  had  it  smuggled  out  and 
published. 

I  advocated  American  recognition  of  Soviet  Russia  because  I  be- 
lieved it  would  help  Russia  and,  at  least,  do  no  harm  to  America. 
I  regarded  Soviet  Russia  as  important  to  the  future  of  the  world. 
The  French  Revolution  was  opposed  and  maligned,  but  it  made  a 
tremendous  contribution  to  civilized  life.  I  expected  good  to  come 
of  the  Bolshevik  Revolution.  Recognition  would  assist  Russia,  and 
therefore  the  world,  to  greater  peace  and  prosperity.  It  would  estab- 
lish normal  relations  and  normal  channels  of  information  between 
two  peoples.  I  cannot  see  that  it  has,  to  this  day,  done  the  slightest 
damage  to  the  United  States.  On  February  25,  1933, 1  debated  with 
Congressman  Hamilton  Fish,  Jr.,  at  the  National  Republican  Club 
in  New  York  on  recognition,  and  he  said:  "Recognition  of  the 
Soviet  would  be  an  antagonistic  move  against  Japan.  It  would  bring 
about  a  situation  where  the  United  States  would  find  itself  policing 
Manchuria  and  fighting  China's  battles  all  alone."  The  only  answer 
to  that  would  have  been:  "Mr.  Hamilton  Fish,  Jr.,  you're  a  fool." 
But  he  was  a  congressman  and  I  a  mere  journalist,  and  we  were  in  a 
polite  gathering.  Yet  how  silly  that  sounds  today.  "Policing  Man- 
churia." The  fact  is  that  Russia  fought  China's  battles  against  Japan 
while  the  United  States  did  not.  Mr.  Fish  also  stressed  the  menace 
of  Communism.  The  best  answer  was  Roy  W.  Howard's  in  a  letter 
to  Reeve  Schley  of  the  Chase  National  Bank.  "Personally,"  Howard 
wrote,  "I  think  the  menace  of  Bolshevism  in  the  United  States  is  as 
great  as  the  menace  of  sunstroke  in  Greenland  or  chilblains  in  the 
Sahara." 

Even  men  like  Chief  Justice  Hughes  have  enjoyed  visiting  Alexan- 
der Troyanovsky,  the  first  Soviet  Ambassador,  and  lesser  men  have 
been  pleased  to  talk  there  with  his  lesser  successor,  Constantine 
Oumansky.  Until  1939,  the  Soviet  Embassy  received  a  high  rating  in 
Washington  society,  and  congressman  crashed  the  gate  at  its  recep- 
tions. Matrons  and  debutantes  pulled  wires  to  receive  invitations. 
It  was  considered  piquant  and  slightly  naughty  to  have  partaken  of 
Stalin's  food. 

"Concerning  the  Russian  reception,  the  lucky  800  who  received 
invitations  (it  is  said  that  4,000  requests  were  unfilled)  have  talked 
of  little  since  but  the  aplomb  of  the  Troyanovskys,  die  excellence 
and  abundance  of  the  food  and  wine,  and  the  good  taste  of  the  fur- 
nishings. To  hear  the  talk,  one  would  suppose  that  they  expected 


210      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

to  find  the  Ambassador  in  a  smock  and  leather  boots.  The  fact  is. 
of  course,  that  the  Soviet  government  has  maintained  diplomatic 
establishments  in  foreign  capitals  for  many  years,  and  so  far  as  I 
know,  their  social  conduct  has  always  been  unexceptionable.  At  any 
rate,  the  Ambassador's  evening  clothes  were  impeccable,  and  debu- 
tantes who  arrived  in  red  gowns  especially  ordered  for  the  occasion 
were  somewhat  chagrined  to  find  Mrs.  Troyanovsky  in  a  modish 
creation  of  peach.  Heywood  Broun  seemed  uncomfortably  conscious 
of  his  dinner  jacket  until  ex-Senator  Brookhart  showed  up  in  shiny 
blue  serge.  (None  of  his  friends'  evening  clothes  fit  him.)  To  me 
the  rarest  sight  of  the  evening  was  that  of  a  Republican  congressman 
from  Massachusetts  leaning  against  a  bust  of  Lenin,  with  a  glass  of 
Soviet  champagne  in  one  hand  and  a  hunk  of  Soviet  caviar  in  the 
other,  gravely  discoursing  on  the  red  peril  in  America  as  disclosed 
by  the  Wirt  charges.  Judging  from  appearances  he  was  feeling  no 
pain,  and  what  he  lacked  in  a  sense  of  humor  was  made  up  in  appe- 
tite. Grizzled  dowagers  who  had  not  been  out  since  General  Grant's 
inaugural  ball  smirked  and  waved  their  reticules  frivolously  at  one 
another,  and  all  was  merrier  than  the  wedding  bell.  There  is  doubt- 
less some  salutary,  if  not  shocking,  moral  to  be  drawn  from  all  this, 
but  thus  far  I  have  been  unable  to  discover  it.  I  had  a  swell  time- 
partly,  perhaps,  because  I  didn't  run  into  Ham  Fish." 

That  was  Paul  Y.  Anderson  in  the  Nation  of  May  2,  1934. 

Soviet  diplomats  can  be  very  irritating  in  negotiations,  and  Soviet- 
American  relations  never  filled 'in  the  blank  check  that  Roosevelt, 
Bullitt,  and  Litvinov  wrote  for  them.  But  I  can  discover  no  detri- 
ment caused  to  America.  Only  a  few  opportunities  missed  on  both 
sides.  Relations  between  states  are  not  based  on  mutual  approval  of 
their  acts  at  home  or  abroad.  If  the  United  States  maintained  diplo- 
matic contacts  only  with  governments  whose  policies  all  Americans 
admired  we  would  have  a  much  smaller  foreign  service,  and  on  the 
same  principle  there  might  be  fewer  foreign  diplomats  on  the  Poto- 
mac. Diplomacy  is  not  love;  it  is  business.  It  is  impossible  to  know 
when  America  will  need  Russia's  co-operation  somewhere.  With  an 
eye  to  that  day,  contacts,  however  cool,  must  be  maintained. 

One  Saturday  in  January,  1931, 1  attended  a  lunch  at  the  National 
Republican  Club  where  the  late  Senator  Bronson  M.  Cutting  and 
Anna  Louise  Strong  spoke  for  Ajnerican  recognition  of  Soviet  Rus- 
sia while  Matthew  Woll,  trade-union  leader,  and  Paul  Scheffer  spoke 
against  it.  Both  sides  argued  so  poorly  that  I  thought  there  was  room 


AT  HOME  211 

for  a  book  on  the  subject.  On  Monday,  I  went  to  see  Harrison  Smith, 
my  enterprising  publisher,  and  sketched  the  outline  of  the  book.  On 
Tuesday,  we  signed  the  contract,  and  a  month  later  the  book  was 
ready  for  the  press  with  the  title,  Why  Recognize  Russia? 

The  person  who  first  interested  me  in  United  States  recognition 
of  Soviet  Russia  was  Senator  Burton  K.  Wheeler,  of  Montana.  I 
interviewed  him  in  April,  1923,  in  the  Sugar  King's  Palace  in  Mos- 
cow, where  he  and  Mrs.  Wheeler  were  staying  as  guests  of  the 
Soviet  government  which,  in  view  of  the  scarcity  of  decent  accom- 
modations, was  a  sensible  thing  to  do.  The  kind  senator,  seeing  my 
inexperience,  practically  dictated  the  interview  to  me,  and  its  first 
sentence,  as  printed  in  die  New  York  Evening  Post  of  May  28,  1923, 
read,  "There  is  absolutely  no  reason  in  the  world  why  the  United 
States  should  not  recognize  Russia."  After  I  thought  about  it  a  little 
I  felt  the  same  way. 

Colonel  Raymond  Robins,  a  rib  of  the  real  America,  ex-Governor 
Goodrich  of  Indiana,  Senator  Borah,  and  innumerable  wise  citizens 
made  recognition  their  fight.  It  was,  to  say  the  least,  bad  politics 
and  bad  common  sense  not  to  be  in  touch  with  a  power  which  was 
half  of  Europe  and  which  occupied  a  most  important  strategic  posi- 
tion in  relation  to  Japan  and  China. 

I  met  Colonel  Robins  at  dinner  at  Alex  Gumberg's,  which  was  a 
second  home  to  me  in  the  United  States.  Alex  was  a  Russian- Jewish 
immigrant  married  to  Frances  Adams  of  the  New  England  Adamses. 
In  Alex,  Russia  and  America  merged  in  a  remarkable  synthesis.  He 
had  a  profound  loyalty  to  the  Bolshevik  Revolution— perhaps  be- 
cause he  witnessed  its  birth  in  Petrograd.  In  the  early  romantic 
months,  Alex,  working  with  Colonel  Robins  of  the  American  Red 
Cross,  often  interviewed  Lenin,  Trotzky,  and  other  high  Communist 
officials,  and  until  his  premature  death  in  May,  1939;  he  treasured 
letters  from  them.  The  Soviet  government  arrested  and  exiled  his 
younger  brother,  S.  Zorin,  writer  and  Trotzkyist.  It  later  arrested 
an  older  brother  and  sent  him  into  prolonged  exile.  When  the 
Pravda  attacked  his  older  brother,  it  also  slandered  Alex.  (Alex  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  Pravda  print  his  letter  of  refutation, 
something  the  infallible  Olympian  Pravda  did  about  once  a  decade.) 
Intimate  friends  of  Alex's,  among  them  Serebjakov,  were  tried  and 
executed.  Others,  like  Valeri  Mezhlauk,  Vice-Prime  Minister  of  the 
Soviet  Union  and  Chairman  of  the  State  Planning  Commission,  who 


212      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

used  to  come  to  the  Gumberg  apartment  in  East  Seventeenth  Street, 
New  York,  disappeared  in  the  big  purge.  Alex  was  puzzled  along 
with  the  rest  of  us,  but  he  remained  pro-Soviet  even  when  he  no- 
ticed, and  commented  on,  my  cooler  attitude.  I  think  he  could  not 
forget  the  glorious  auspices  under  which  the  Revolution  started  and 
could  not  believe  that  the  seeds  then  sown  had  all  grown  into  tares. 
After  the  Revolution,  Alex  presided  over  the  office  of  the  Soviet 
Textile  Syndicate  in  New  York.  He  bought  cotton  for  Russia. 
American  businessmen  recognized  his  talents:  Later  he  became  a 
highly  paid  and  highly  appreciated  member  of  the  Atlas  Corpora- 
tion. His  life  thus  spanned  the  variegated  stream  of  American  so- 
ciety. A  Morgan  called  him  in  for  consultation.  Dwight  Morrow, 
U.  S.  Ambassador  in  Mexico,  asked  him  down  to  talk  over  the  sit- 
uation there.  Communists  came  in  to  hear  his  anti-Communist  views 
in  a  parlor  within  a  stone's  throw  of  Union  Square,  for  though  he 
liked  the  Soviets  he  disliked  the  tactics  of  the  American  Communist 
Party.  Senators  Borah  and  Robert  La  Follette  were  his  close  friends. 
Philip  La  Follette  and  his  fiery  wife  often  visited  the  Gumberg  apart- 
ment. There,  staid  university  professors  met  Communist  authors,  ship 
captains  told  their  tall  tales  to  society  ladies,  financial  writers  from 
Wall  Street  mingled  with  poets,  and  Socialists  and  Communists  and 
Trotzkyists  debated  at  the  fireside  while  bankers  and  editors  and 
teachers  listened.  John  Dewey,  at  an  age  of  over  seventy,  used  to 
love  to  come— and  dance.  Businessmen  got  acquainted  with  artists, 
corporation  lawyers  with  Bohemians.  For  many  Americans,  Alex 
was  the  bridge  to  Soviet  Russia.  But  subsequently  he  helped  Russia 
understand  America.  Floyd  Dell,  Stuart  Chase,  Joseph  Wood  Krutch 
and  his  wife  Marcelle  (in  fact  the  whole  Nation  family),  the  Van 
Dorens,  .Louis  and  Stella  Adatnic,  Reeve  Schley,  Lewis  Gannett, 
Kenneth  Durant,  Rebecca  and  Oscar  Bernstein,  Samuel  Zemurray 
of  the  United  Fruit  Company,  Josephine  Herbst,  George  Britt,  Jo- 
seph Freeman,  Paul  and  Julia  Blanshard,  Amy  and  Walter  Charak, 
Edith  Christensen,  and  May  Cameron  were  steady  visitors.  Franltie, 
Alex's  wife,  contributed  an  unostentatiously  efficient  and  cordial 
hospitality.  Alex  was  a  good  conversationalist  who  unfailingly  went 
the  TOfl^est  way  around  a  circle  to  get  to  the  point  of  his  story.  His 
great  art,  however,  consisted  in  provoking  others  to  talk,  and  in 
ragging  everybody,  so  that  there  were  no  dull  moments  unless  you 
created  them  in  a  corner  by  yourself.  He  possessed  warmth  and  a 
deep  understanding  of  human  beings.  He  had  the  mellow  wisdom 


AT  HOME  213 

of  age  and  the  mischief  of  a  boy.  He  helped  many  people  with  ad- 
vice, sympathy,  and  hospitality.  Death  at  fifty  closed  a  full  life  but 
also  left  many  pages  unturned. 

Thanks  to  Alex  and  his  friends,  my  circle  of  personal  and  journal- 
istic acquaintance  in  America  grew  wide.  Alex  brought  me  to  Sen- 
ator Borah  and  S.  Parker  Gilbert.  And  it  was  through  one  of  Alex's 
banker  friends  that  I  got  an  appointment  with  Secretary  of  State 
Henry  L.  Stimson. 

I  saw  Mr.  Stimson  on  several  occasions.  When  he  received  me 
in  his  office  on  February  3,  1933,  he  seemed  deeply  disappointed,  as 
if  he  were  being  torn  from  something  he  did  not  want  to  leave,  and 
my  impression  received  confirmation  later  that  day  from  an  assistant 
secretary.  What  Stimson  said  indicated  clearly  his  anti-appeasement 
attitude  toward  Japan  and  his  support  of  Russian  recognition.  He 
asked  me  about  conditions  in  the  Soviet  Union.  I  talked  of  indus- 
trialization in  European  Russia,  and  in  Siberia  particularly.  He  said, 
"I  think  Russia's  military  position  is  not  as  strong  as  it  looks."  This 
point  had  apparently  entered  into  somebody's  apology  for  America's 
policy  toward  Japan.  If  Russia  was  weak,  America  could  not  take 
grave  risks  in  the  Far  East. 

From  Stimson's  office  I  went  to  Senator  Borah's.  He  told  me  of 
a  conversation  he  had  had  with  Stimson  that  summer  under  the 
trees  of  the  Borah  mansion.  Borah  believed  Stimson  was  leaving  'office 
with  a  heavy  heart  because  of  things  undone,  one  of  those  being 
recognition.  Stimson,  Borah  declared,  would  have  recognized  Russia 
but  for  President  Hoover.  In  Borah's  opinion,  Hoover  was  hostile  to 
Russia  because  the  Bolsheviks  had  confiscated  his  properties  (the 
Urquarht  holdings),  and  because  "Hoover  is  such  a  colossal  indi- 
vidualist and  conservative." 

Borah  thought  Roosevelt  would  recognize  Soviet  Russia  soon  after 
the  Inauguration  despite  the  fact  that  Bernard  Baruch  opposed  it. 
Owen  D.  Young  was  for  it,  and  so  was  Cordell  Hull,  who,  Borah 
predicted,  would  be  the  new  Secretary  of  State. 

During  those  days  the  high  officials  of  the  Department  of  State 
were  busy  handing  over  to  their  successors;  one  of  them,  who  was 
going  back  to  his  university,  said  to  me,  "This  is  a  queer  system 
where  a  man  has  to  quit  just  when  he  has  learned  his  job."  He  told 
me  Stimson  was  suffering  under  the  strain  of  the  transfer. 

I  returned  to  the  Department  of  State  after  the  first  Roosevelt 


214      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

administration  had  taken  over.  It  was  the  most  chaotic  institution  I 
have  ever  seen.  Raymond  Moley,  Hull's  assistant,  told  me  he  favored 
recognition  of  Russia.  I  talked  to  him  about  the  Chinese  Eastern 
Railway  and  its  importance  to  America's  position  in  the  Far  East. 
He  asked  me  to  send  him  a  memorandum  on  the  subject  (which  I 
did)  for  submission  to  Mr.  Roosevelt.  He  made  it  quite  clear  to  me 
that  there  was  just  the  President  and  himself  and  nobody  else.  An 
English  diplomat,  watching  Moley  function,  said:  "Moley,  Moley, 
Moley,  Lord  God  Almighty."  But  in  subsequent  years  white,  translu- 
cent, single-track  Cordell  Hull  succeeded  in  eating  up -all  the  young 
upstarts  who  thought  he  was  only  an  old  congressman  from  Ten- 
nessee. Nothing  so  reveals  the  immaturity,  or  so  undermines  the  posi- 
tion, of  young  men  on  the  periphery  of  others'  greatness  as  the 
temptation  to  boast. 

On  one  of  my  trips  to  Washington  I  took  a  path  across  the  White 
House  enclosure  to  cut  from  one  street  to  the  other.  Hundreds  do 
it  every  day.  If  I  had  not  lived  so  long  in  Russia,  it  would  not  have 
seemed  remarkable  to  me.  I  once  sat  in  the  square  opposite  the  White 
House  with  a  Soviet  journalist.  He  commented  on  the  same  thing, 
and  said,  "Democracy,  by  God." 

For  many  years  I  contributed  regularly  to  that  dignified,  excellent 
paper,  the  Baltimore  Sim.  Opposite  its  fine  editorial  page  it  printed 
double-column  mail  feature  articles  from  a  galaxy  of  celebrated  cor- 
respondents like  H.  N.  Brailsford  and  "Pertinax,"  and  I  was  proud 
to  be  in  the  distinguished  company.  I  appreciated  the  paper  and 
the  treatment  accorded  my  correspondences— never  a  word  altered 
or  cut. 

During  a  lecture  visit  to  Baltimore,  Paul  Patterson,  owner  of  the 
Sun  papers,  invited  me  to  an  editorial  conference.  Men  with  hon- 
ored names  in  American  journalism  were  present:  John  W.  Owens, 
editor  of  the  Sun  papers,  Hamilton  Owens,  editor  of  the  Morning 
Sun,  John  H;  Adams,  Frank  R.  Kent,  veteran  columnist,  H.  L. 
Mencken,  and  others. 

The  conference  devoted  most  of  its  attention  to  a  bill  pending  in 
the  Maryland  legislature  on  the  licensing  of  Christian  Science  healers. 
The  Morning  Sun  wished  to  oppose  the  licensing  of  healers.  But 
Mencken  of  the  Evening  Sun  expressed  the  belief  that  if  "boobs" 
wanted  to  be  healed  by  healers  that  was  their  business.  Probably  no 
one  has  lampooned  and  burlesqued  Christian  Scientists,  Mary  Baker 
Eddy,  and  healers  as  much  as  Mencken.  But  his  loyalty  to  freedom 


AT  HOME  215 

exceeded  his  aversion  to  "quackery."  The  meeting  soon  developed 
into  a  debate  on  liberty.  Mencken  did  most  of  the  talking  and  no 
one  objected.  His  wit,  dirty  jokes,  and  scientific  animadversions  kept 
all  entertained.  When  Mencken  tired  or  dried  up,  others  present, 
including  myself,  were  asked  for  opinions.  Absolute  freedom,  I 
thought,  meant  anarchy  and  danger  to  the  community.  Suppose 
somebody  started  a  magazine  to  advocate  murder  and  rape?  In  the 
end,  the  conference  ruled  that  each  Sim  paper  could  do  as  its  editors 
decided,  and,  in  principle,  each  editor  could  write  as  he  pleased. 
Since  murder  or  rape  was  not  involved  this  certainly  followed  the 
great  journalistic  tradition. 

I  appreciate  the  value  of  freedom  more  than  most  Americans  be- 
cause I  have  lived  so  long  in  countries  that  have  no  freedom.  There 
were  years  when  I  pooh-poohed  liberty  and  said,  "Liberty  for 
whom?"  But  in  Russia  where  the  Bolsheviks  began  by  denying  lib- 
erty to  their  enemies,  they  ended  by  denying  it  to  everybody.  In 
many  ways,  absences  from  Russia  made  me  fonder  of  it.  But  in  many 
other  ways,  the  West  made  me  doubt  Russia.  More  and  more,  the 
great  question  for  me  was:  Can  the  Soviet  dictatorship  gradually 
evolve  into  a  political  democracy? 


12.  Stalin  and  the  GPU 

SOVIET  RUSSIA  continued  for  many  years  to  attract  intellec- 
tuals and  workingmen  from  western  countries.  Indeed  the  rise 
of  Hitler  in  1933  multiplied  the  number  of  foreign  friends  of 
the  Soviet  Union.  They  saw  in  Russia  a  counterpoise  to  German 
might  and  Nazi  ideas. 

To  be  sure,  some  people  whom  one  would  have  expected  to  see 
in  Moscow  never  put  in  an  appearance.  Senator  William  E.  Borah, 
for  instance,  told  me  in  1933  that  he  would  have  liked  to  visit  Russia 
and  Germany  but  didn't  go  because  as  chairman  of  the  Senate  For- 
eign Relations  committee  he  would  have  had  to  pay  his  respects  to 
England  and  France  and  he  hated  them.  I  believe  Borah  did  not  go 
abroad  once  during  his  entire  official  career. 

Despite  my  repeated  urging,  Freda  Kirchwey,  editor  of  The 
Nation,  also  failed  to  visit  Moscow.  Once,  with  her  husband  Evans 
Clark,  former  editorial  writer  on  the  New  York  Times,  now  director 
of  the  Twentieth  Century  Fund,  she  got  as  far  as  Vienna,  and  from 
there  they  sent  me  a  classic  telegram,  reading,  "NO  TIME  FOR  RUSSIA." 

But  often  it  seemed  as  though  everybody  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of 
in  America  turned  up  in  Moscow  at  some  time  or  another  during 
those  hectic  years  of  Soviet  reconstruction.  One  summer  day  a  bus 
drew  up  in  the  narrow  little  side  street  where  we  lived,  and  out  of 
it  issued  Maxwell  Stewart's  tourist  group  of  teachers  and  social  work- 
ers bent  on  asking  me  questions.  Occasionally,  correspondents  would 
hand  visitors  from  one  to  the  other.  And  what  a  jumble  of  Duran- 
ty-Ralph  W.  Barnes-Fischer-Lyons-Spencer  Williams-Habicht  they 
must  have  carried  away  with  them  to  mull  over  on  the  Atlantic 
before  telling  waiting  reporters,  relatives,  and  pupils  the  "real  truth 
about  Russia"!  Some  tourists  returned  to  Moscow  on  their  way  out 
and  then  I  would  cross-examine  them,  for  they  often  saw  things  with 
their  fresh  eyes  that  had  become  invisible  to  me.  The  final  question 
from  me  or  Markoosha  was,  "Is  there  any  clothing  you  could  leave 
for  our  friends?"  and  we  would  go  over  to  their  hotels  and  pick  up 
slips,  silk  stockings,  shirtwaists,  suits,  shoes,  and  what-not  for  Soviet 

216 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  217 

acquaintances  to  whom  these  cast-offs  meant  more  than  the  latest 
Alix  or  Schiaparelli  creation  could  mean  to  tomorrow's  debutante. 
We  had  Soviet  women  friends  who  would  come  to  the  apartment, 
just  to  feast  their  eyes  on  the  old  clothes  that  tourists  wore  for  rough- 
ing it  in  Russia.  One  would  say,  "Do  you  think  she  could  leave  that 
scarf?"  These  Russians  were  ready  to  pay  any  amount  of  money  for 
such  hand-me-downs,  and  occasionally  the  foreigners  took  rubles  be- 
cause they  needed  them  for  their  travels. 

I  saw  so  many  tourists  that  I  finally  decided  I  might  as  well  have 
some  of  my  own,  and  in  1934,  I  accepted  an  offer  from  John 
Rothschild  to  lead  an  Open  Road  tourist  group  through  the  Soviet 
Union  at  so  many  dollars  per  head.  I  did  this  for  three  summers  run- 
ning, and  the  last  time,  just  before  going  off  to  the  Spanish  War,  I 
earned  $2,000  for  five  weeks'  travel  with  stimulating  people. 

Maurice  Wertheim  was  my  star  pupil  in  1934.  He  had  been  com- 
mended to  my  attention  by  Freda  Kirchwey.  (He  later  bought  The 
Nation  from  Villard  and,  soon,  sold  it  to  Freda.)  Wertheim  is  a 
wealthy  man,  with  large  holdings  of  many  kinds.  He  lives  in  a  pent- 
house in  New  York  and  has  an  estate  at  Cos  Cob  where  he  maintains 
a  handsome  establishment.  He  takes  pride  in  his  collection  of  Picasso 
"Blues"  and  other  French  moderns  including  Despiau  sculpture.  Good 
capitalist,  he  bought  a  river  in  Canada  so  he  could  catch  his  own 
salmon.  Yet  this  man  said  he  came  to  Russia  "to  find  a  social  philos- 
ophy." Bolsheviks  had  a  hard  time  understanding  the  friendly  reac- 
tion of  this  millionaire  investment  banker,  this  "Wall  Street"  man, 
to  Soviet  conditions.  On  long  hot  train  rides  across  the  Russian 
steppes,  when  he  was  not  winning  at  chess  or  anagrams,  he  studied 
Marx  and  then  provoked  arguments  with  me  and  our  little  redheaded 
Soviet  interpreter,  Vera  Bakhanova,  who  was  a  young  Communist 
and  an  eager  Soviet  gospel-spreader.  Or  he  read  Soviet  statistical  re- 
ports and  State  Bank  statements. 

To  understand  what  this  trip  meant  to  Maurice  Wertheim  I  had 
to  wait  until  the  winter  of  that  year  when  I  lived  as  a  guest  in  his 
big  penthouse  and  estate.  What  contrast! 

In  Russia,  Wertheim  had  slept  in  a  stuffy  upper  berth  with  three 
others  in  the  compartment,  had  taken  afternoon  naps  on  trains  in 
his  clothes,  jogged  over  rough  Russian  roads  in  buses  with  bad  springs, 
and  jumped  up  a  minute  after  meals  when  I  summoned  my  flock 
for  the  next  factory  or  village  excursion,  "Ah,  let's  sit  still  for  a 
minute,"  he  would  beg  sometimes,  but  there  was  no  time,  and  he 


218      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

obeyed  like  a  sport.  He  had  never  felt  better  in  all  his  life.  I  called 
the  cure  extroversion.  The  big  thing  was  that  Soviet  Russia  had 
taken  him  out  of  himself  and  made  him  forget  America,  business,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it. 

At  the  opposite  pole  from  Maurice  Wertheim  was  Jim  Ferry. 
Wertheim  was  Harvard,  a  horseman,  yacht-owner,  director  of  the 
Theatre  Guild,  friend  of  President  Conant,  of  Sam  Behrman,  of 
Joseph  Krutch.  .  .  .  Ferry,  red-faced  Irishman,  graduate  of  a  pri- 
mary school,  spoke  a  workingman's  idiom.  He  had  been  a  working- 
man  most  of  his  life,  but  was  now  a  contractor  of  underwater  con- 
struction in  Atlantic  City.  He  looked  the  embodiment  of  toil  and 
common  man.  He  helped  the  group  a  lot.  He  smelled  the  concrete 
in  new  Soviet  buildings,  he  touched  brick  and  iron  for  us,  he  told 
us  whether  a  job  was  well-done  or  not.  I  do  not  know  whether  he 
had  ever  read  a  book.  Certainly  Marx  was  Martian  abracadabra  to 
him.  But  he  loved  the  Russians  immediately  because  he  saw  working- 
men  on  top,  and  his  round  Farley-face  broke  out  into  a  smile  when 
laborers  at  a  Soviet  resort  boasted  of  facilities  for  vacations  which 
he  knew  were  denied  similar  people  at  home.  With  Ferry  and  an 
Armenian  engineer  I  waded  thigh-deep,  in  appropriate  clothing, 
through  the  Moscow  subway  then  under  construction.  He  told  me 
what  they  were  doing  more  expensively,  what  better,  what  worse, 
than  in  America.  But  he  said  their  concrete  "is  mixed  with  love." 
"They  build  for  themselves,"  he  repeated,  "whereas  at  home  we 
build  for  a  boss  under  contract."  (Years  later  Ferry  turned  up  in 
New  York  with  the  huge  typewritten  manuscript  of  a  novel  he  had 
written  on  Russia.) 

Wertheim,  Ferry,  Miss  Blanche  Hull,  Dr.  Dorothea  Moore  of 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  and  the  other  members  of  the  party  raced 
after  me  through  Leningrad,  Moscow,  Kharkov,  Tiflis,  Baku  and 
numerous  villages  and  by  the  time  they  had  seen  a  long  chain  of 
factories,  farms,  new  parks,  children's  homes,  hospitals,  office  build- 
ings, apartment  houses,  on  tours  which  were  not  conducted  because 
they  could  choose  the  places  they  wanted  to  see  and  by  the  time 
they  had  talked  to  scores  of  executives,  workingmen,  peasant  women, 
students,  and  soldiers,  they  were  so  enthusiastic  about  Russia  that  I 
had  to  suggest  the  existence  of  certain  aspects  of  Soviet  life  not  so 
visible  to  the  naked  eye.  At  one  of  our  regular  meetings  at  which  I 
lectured  or  answered  questions  or  led  discussions,  Wertheim  asked 
that  we  give  some  time  to  these  aspects.  It  was  in  Odessa  at  the  end 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  219 

of  the  tour.  We  had  just  returned  from  a  swim  in  the  Black  Sea 
which  had  been  followed  by  a  brief  interview  with  William  C.  Bul- 
litt,  then  on  vacation  in  Odessa.  Our  group  spent  four  unbroken 
hours  analyzing  the  seamy  sides  of  Soviet  affairs.  My  own  contribu- 
tion to  this  seance  was  devoted  to  the  GPU  and  Stalin. 

GPU  are  the  initials  of  Russian  words  meaning  State  Political 
Administration  which  is  a  euphemism  for  Russia's  special  political 
police.  The  "O"  sometimes  found  in  front  of  these  letters  stands  for 
federal,  but  it  is  not  used  in  Russian  conversation.  Russians  always 
say  "Gay  Pay  Oo."  So  as  not  to  say  "Gay  Pay  Oo"  too  frequently, 
some  foreigners  refer  to  the  special  police  as  "the  three  letters"  or 
"the  YMCA." 

My  first  personal  contact  with  the  GPU  was  in  1923.  It  was  then 
the  custom  for  foreign  correspondents  who  wished  to  take  their 
clippings,  carbon  copies,  and  letters  out  of  Russia  to  bring  them  to 
the  Narkomindel  (Soviet  foreign  office)  and  have  them  examined 
there  by  a  GPU  official.  By  appointment  I  brought  my  files  and  met 
the  man  who  had  been  summoned  from  the  big  GPU  headquarters 
just  across  the  street  from  the  Narkomindel.  He  was  young,  tall,  and 
blond,  and  spoke  perfect  German.  His  mother  was  Austrian  and  he 
had  received  part  of  his  education  in  Vienna. 

His  perusal  of  my  papers  was  perfunctory  and  we  talked  as  he 
paged  through  them. 

"Have  you  ever  killed  anyone?"  I  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  the  GPU  official  quietly. 

"Killed  or  executed?"  I  asked. 

"Killed  and  executed,"  he  said  quietly. 

"I  understand,"  I  ventured,  "how  a  man  might  kill  in  battle.  But 
for  a  government  official  to  approach  a  defenseless  prisoner  from 
behind  and  fire  a  bullet  through  the  back  of  his  neck— how  could 
you  do  it?" 

"Listen,"  he  exclaimed.  There  was  excitement  in  his  voice,  and 
he  had  dropped  my  papers.  "In  1919, 1  was  in  the  Red  Army  fighting 
Kolchak  in  Siberia.  Fifteen  hundred  of  us  were  captured.  The 
Whites  divided  us  into  three  groups  of  five  hundred  each.  The  first 
group  received  shovels  and  were  ordered  to  dig  a  trench.  When  it  was 
finished  they  stood  in  front  of  it,  and  machine  guns  pumped  lead 
into  them  and  they  fell  into  the  long  common  grave.  The  second 
group  was  forced  to  pick  up  the  shovels  and  cover  their  dead  com- 


220      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

rades  with  sod.  Then  they  dug  a  second  trench.  A  second  time  the 
machine  guns  opened  up  and  mowed  down  the  second  five  hundred. 
I  was  in  the  third  group,"  the  GPU  man  continued,  and  by  this  time 
the  telling  had  become  hard  for  him.  "We  had  to  cover  the  dead 
and  dig  our  own  grave.  We  had  not  been  allowed  to  exchange  a 
word.  But  we  knew  what  we  were  going  to  do.  We  rushed  the 
machine  gunners  and  hacked  them  dead  with  our  spades.  We  were 
mad.  One  hundred  and  forty-two  of  us  were  killed.  The  rest  escaped 
into  the  woods.  Then  I  volunteered  to  work  in  the  GPU.  Do  you 
think  I  would  hesitate  to  shoot  a  White?" 

Sadists  and  perverts  undoubtedly  find  their  way  into  the  secret 
police  units  of  dictator  states.  But  this  GPU  official  and  many  of  his 
colleagues  were  inspired  by  revolutionary  fervor.  Work  in  such  an 
organization  is  dangerous.  The  enemy  may  strike  you  down  or  a 
false  step  or  a  false  word  can  subject  you  to  the  severest  punishment 
by  your  own  government.  The  GPU  operates  under  a  code  of 
strictest  individual  secrecy,  discipline,  responsibility,  and  self-sacrifice. 

The  secret  police  saved  the  Bolshevik  regime  from  defeat  in  the 
Civil  War.  It  suppressed  conspiracies  and  ferreted  out  hidden  enemies. 
It  also  had  to  deal  with  foreign  spies,  who  were  always  plentiful  in 
Soviet  Russia.  Some  of  these  subsequently  showed  in  their  memoirs 
how  they  tried  to  interfere  with  the  Bolshevik  defense  program. 

Even  in  peacetime,  the  Soviet  government  needed  to  be  on  guard 
against  internal  and  external  enemies.  But  after  a  while,  and  particu- 
larly in  peacetime,  a  secret  police  tends  to  become  a  vested  interest. 
The  GPU  had  power  to  act  quickly  and  summarily.  It  was  inevitable 
that  this  power  should  be  abused.  The  corrective  would  have  been 
public  criticism  or  public  discussion.  But  this  was  not  permitted; 
the  GPU  was  an  untouchable.  The  Pravda  of  November  15,  1922, 
contained  a  letter  by  N.  Podvoiskaya  accusing  a  GPU  official  named 
Volkov  of  killing  V.  G.  Marts,  a  schoolteacher,  in  order  to  get  the 
latter's  room.  Three  days  later  the  paper  printed  a  communique  from 
the  GPU  charging  N.  Podvoiskaya  with  giving  false  information 
and  declaring  that  Marts  was  killed  not  by  Volkov  but  by  L  N. 
Naoumov.  Below  this  official  statement,  however,  the  Pravda  pub- 
lished an  article  by  N.  Mehonoshin,  a  prominent  army  officer,  in 
which  he  contradicts  the  GPU's  facts.  He  reveals  the  circumstances: 
Marts,  the  murdered  man,  occupied  an  apartment  of  three  small  rooms 
with  a  large  family.  Regulations  entitled  him  to  that  floor  space.  But 
Volkov  who  lived  in  the  same  house  coveted  one  of  Marts'  rooms. 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  221 

He  terrorized  Marts  and  coerced  the  house  committee  into  giving  him 
the  room.  The  court  issued  an  injunction.  When  the  litigants  left 
the  courthouse,  Volkov  and  Naoumov,  a  friend  of  Volkov,  set  upon 
Marts,  and  Naoumov  drew  a  revolver  and  shot  him.  Such  a  public 
airing  of  an  illegal  act  by  a  GPU  official  and,  more  to  the  point,  such 
public  contradiction  of  a  GPU  communique  were  precluded  in  later 
years.  The  GPU  had  become  inviolable. 

- 1  once  had  a  brush  with  a  GPU  official.  Taxis  were  always  difficult 
to  obtain  in  Moscow.  Sometimes,  taxi  drivers  just  refused  to  take  you 
where  you  wanted  to  go.  A  Moscow  paper  printed  a  caricature  one 
day  showing  a  pedestrian  loaded  down  with  a  pack,  a  fat  briefcase, 
a  stove  pipe,  and  a  bundle  dangling  from  a  finger.  He  approaches  a 
taxi,  tips  his  hat  obsequiously  to  the  chauffeur  and  says,  "Pardon  me 
for  troubling  you,  honored  comrade.  But  perhaps  by  accident  you 
will  soon  be  going  in  the  direction  of  Pluschiha  Street?"  The  driver 
returns  an  indignant  stare  and  doesn't  budge.  When  one  found  a 
taxi  one  held  on  to  it.  One  day  I  got  into  a  taxi  standing  at  its  rack 
in  Theatre  Square.  I  gave  my  address  to  the  driver.  Just  then  a  man 
opened  the  door  and  said  to  me,  "Gtizen,  this  taxi  is  for  me."  I  said 
I  had  been  here  first.  He  insisted.  I  sat  still.  He  said  he  was  on  official 
business  and  said  it  with  a  tone  which  meant,  "You  can  imagine  who 
I  am."  Lest  I  fail  to  see  his  point,  however,  he  added,  "If  you  don't 
vacate  soon  you'll  find  yourself  in  those  cellars,"  and  he  stretched 
out  his  arm  in  the  direction  of  the  near-by  GPU  prison  on  the  Lubi- 
anka.  I  sat  still.  He  pulled  out  a  whistle  and  summoned  the  traffic 
officer.  A  crowd  had  gathered.  He  showed  a  badge  behind  his  lapel 
and  asked  the  traffic  officer  to  order  me  to  leave  the  taxi.  The  officer 
said  he  had  no  right  to  do  that.  He  repeated  that  he  was  on  official 
business.  I  said,  "If  you're  on  official  business  you  should  have  an 
official  car.  You  take  your  turn  for  a  taxi  like  everybody  else.  Right 
here  you  have  no  more  rights  than  I  have."  From  my  accent  as  well 
as  from  my  unaccustomed  tone  he  realized  that  I  was  a  foreigner 
and  went  away. 

I  was  not  being  brave.  I  knew  nothing  would  happen  to  me. 
Chicherin  assented  when  I  once  said  to  him  that  foreigners,  especially 
Americans,  tacitly  enjoyed  extra-territorial  privileges  in  Soviet  Russia. 
But  no  Soviet  citizen  would  have  dared  to  behave  as  I  did.  No  one 
defies  the  GPU.  The  GPU  has  hundreds  of  thousands  of  employees 
in  all  parts  of  the  country.  It  is  represented  in  every  factory,  office, 
and  house.  Its  arm  is  long,  its  vengeance  swift,  its  memory  excellent, 


222      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

and  there  is  usually  little  recourse  from  its  decisions.  It  seizes  persons 
without  a  court  warrant,  and  can  send  them  into  exile  without  a 
trial,  and  at  times  it  executes  without  trial  and  without  judicial  judg- 
ment. No  one  wants  to  monkey  with  even  an  insignificant  cog  in 
such  an  omnipotent  machine.  Little  men  and  big  fear  it.  It  thus  be- 
comes a  law  unto  itself.  The  fear  deters  some  enemies.  But  it  also 
paralyzes  the  initiative  and  creative  spirit  of  many  loyal  citizens. 
Visitors  to  Moscow  used  to  ask  whether  socialism  (by  eliminating 
the  profit  motive)  kills  personal  initiative.  No.  But  the  GPU  does. 

During  the  early  years  of  the  New  Economic  Policy  (NEP)  from 
1921  to  1926,  Nepmen  were  arrested  and  banished  to  Siberia,  but 
the  average  pro-Soviet  person  remained  unmolested.  The  terror  eased. 
Then  came  the  Stalin-Trotzky  conflict.  In  1927  Stalin  began  to 
employ  the  GPU  against  the  Trotzkyites.  I  regard  this  as  a  fatal 
crossroads  in  the  history  of  the  Soviet  dictatorship.  For  it  demon- 
strated that  the  GPU  swept  out  not  only  anti-Bolsheviks  but  also 
Bolsheviks  who  were  contending  for  Stalin's  scepter  or  merely  ques- 
tioning his  omniscience  and  infallibility.  The  popular  mind  grew 
cynical  about  the  GPU's  function.  To  combat  this  cynicism  the 
regime  branded  Trotzky  and  all  anti-Stalinists  as  counter-revolution- 
ists and  Fascists.  That  greased  the  toboggan  to  the  big  trials  and 
purges  of  later  years. 

The  power  of  a  secret  police  depends  on  the  volume  of  its  work 
and  on  the  nature  of  its  work.  If  it  arrests  few  people  and  shoots 
fewer  it  cannot  be  politically  strong.  If  its  work  is  open  to  criticism 
and  inspection,  if  its  activities  move  on  the  plane  of  legality  and  are 
confined  by  respect  for  civil  rights,  it  cannot  become  a  state  within 
a  state. 

The  new  revolutionary  phase  of  Bolshevism,  which  commenced  in 
1929,  gave  the  GPU  new  business.  The  Soviet  government  had  en- 
tered upon  an  epochal  task  of  industrial  construction.  The  regime 
was  in  a  hurry.  In  the  most  efficient  country  in  the  world— which 
Russia  was  not— mistakes  would  have  been  counted  by  the  thousands. 
Soviet  mistakes  were  myriad.  Some  of  these  were  committed  by  anti- 
Soviet  engineers  who  did  not  want  the  Five  Year  Plan  to  succeed. 
The  bulk  of  Russia's  technicians,  however,  was  loyal,  and  yet  things 
went  wrong;  here  the  plan  remained  unfulfilled,  here  there  were 
fatal  accidents,  here  a  factory  turned  out  inferior  goods.  The  popu- 
lation which  suffered  privations  because  of  shortages  looked  for  an 
explanation. 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  223 

But  as  dictator,  Stalin  could  do  no  wrong.  The  dictatorship  was 
beyond  reproach.  The  principles  of  socialism  had  to  remain  above 
criticism,  and  the  national  economic  plan  itself  naturally  was  per- 
fection incorporated.  Someone  had  to  be  punished  for  falling  pro- 
duction and  defective  machinery;  someone,  preferably  the  guilty 
one— but  not  necessarily.  It  was  like  a  political  campaign  in  a  de- 
mocracy where  one  side  is  lily  white  and  all  the  difficulties,  from  un- 
employment to  crop  failures  to  earthquakes,  are  blamed  on  the  other 
side,  except  that  in  Russia,  the  "campaign"  was  conducted  in  the 
night  by  the  GPU  and  the  accused  in  the  Black  Marias  could  not 
answer  back.  The  GPU  sought  the  scapegoats  on  the  slopes  below 
the  summit.  At  times  it  reached  perilously  close  to  the  dictatorship's 
peak  but  it  never  touched  the  fountain  of  authority  whence  the 
revelation  was  brought  down  the  mount,  and  no  GPU  step  could 
suggest  that  Stalin  or  those  whom  he  shielded  at  the  moment  were  at 
fault.  The  arrests  were  designed  to  prove  that  others  were  at  fault. 

Many  tens  of  thousands  of  engineers,  managers,  technicians,  and 
officials  in  industry  were  arrested  and  exiled.  The  GPU  expanded 
into  a  vast  spying  organization  of  dimensions  unprecedented  even 
in  Russia. 

Simultaneously,  agrarian  collectivization  converted  the  GPU  into 
a  huge  economic  establishment.  The  GPU  arrested  and  exiled  vast 
hordes,  possibly  millions,  of  peasants  from  their  homes  to  distant 
regions  of  the  Soviet  continent.  I  saw  them  at  work  in  Kazakhstan 
and  elsewhere.  Many  of  these  were  kulaks  or  richer  farmers  who 
forcibly  or  indirectly  obstructed  socialism  on  the  land  because  it 
meant  their  death  as  private  capitalists. 

The  banishment  of  the  kulaks  made  those  who  remained  less  re- 
calcitrant; it  thus  facilitated  collectivization.  The  GPU  thereby  be- 
came an  important  instrument  of  government  economic  policy. 
Moreover,  the  wholesale,  compulsory  migration  of  kulaks  supplied 
the  authorities  with  labor  for  large  construction  projects  in  far-off, 
sparsely  settled  realms.  The  kulak  arrests  were,  in  part,  a  deliberate 
form  of  colonization.  In  view  of  the  sullen  attitude  of  the  .exiles,  they 
were  put  under  the  care  of  the  GPU  which  actually  conducted  the 
work  of  construction.  The  GPU  became  a  railway  builder,  canal 
digger,  desert  irrigator,  timber  cutter.  It  employed  vast  armies  of 
skilled  and  unskilled  workers,  and  engineers,  all  of  them  exiles,  as 
well  as  free  citizens.  These  tasks  still  further  enhanced  the  GPU's 


224      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

influence  and  power.  It  was  the  most  potent  single  institution  in  the 
country,  too  potent  for  Stalin's  liking. 

It  would  have  been  natural  for  Stalin  to  want  to  curtail  the  au- 
thority of  the  GPU,  but  the  only  way  of  doing  it  would  be  to  curtail 
its  work,  and  having  introduced  construction  by  exiles  and  espionage 
by  GPU  agents  in  industry  this  could  not  be  done  with  ease. 

Moreover,  some  of  the  GPU's  jobs  had  been  of  questionable  legal- 
ity and  had  been  motivated  by  the  dictator's  desire  for  personal 
power.  The  secret  police  in  a  dictatorship  knows  too  much.  In  a  dic- 
tatorship, it  is  often  dangerous  to  have  certain  types  of  information 
acquired  in  the  course  of  legitimate  official  duty.  If  this  information 
embarrassed  superiors  or  could  be  used  for  purposes  of  blackmail, 
its  owner  might  find  that  his  luck  had  changed  for  the  worse.  One 
of  the  reasons  why  some  people  were  purged  was  they  had  purged 
others  and  knew  how  it  was  done.  Thus  purges  beget  more  purges. 

A  secret  police  is  of  the  very  essence  of  a  dictatorship.  It  evokes 
the  fear  which  is  the  motor  fuel  of  dictatorship.  The  relationship  of 
the  Soviet  population  to  the  GPU  was  therefore  of  endless  social 
significance,  and  I  always  watched  this  carefully.  The  GPU  employs 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  uniformed  and  non-uniformed  men  and 
women.  But  over  and  above  these,  it  regards  all  persons  as  unpaid 
collaborators.  According  to  the  basic  tenet  of  the  GPU,  it  is  the  duty 
of  every  Soviet  citizen  to  report  to  the  GPU  whatever  he  believes 
might  be  of  value  to  it.  If  it  is  ascertained  that  any  person  knew  some- 
thing of  importance  and  did  not  report,  that  person  is  liable  to  punish- 
ment for  complicity.  The  question  has  frequently  arisen  whether 
such  and  such  a  Soviet  ambassador  or  trade  representative  is  an  em- 
ployee of  the  GPU.  Foolish  question!  They  all  are,  some  directly, 
but  all  indirectly  in  the  sense  that  they  must— if  they  can— give  the 
GPU  information  it  might  want  to  have.  The  GPU  also  has  col- 
laborators in  non-Soviet  embassies  and  even  in  the  families  of  bour- 
geois diplomats. 

The  average  Russian  is  a  mild,  easy-going  individual,  trusting  and 
talkative.  He  does  not  take  well  to  GPU  methods  of  spying.  Espe- 
cially after  1929,  few  persons  privately  condemned  anyone  carried 
off  by  the  GPU.  The  GPU  became  identified  in  the  public  mind 
with  political  expediency  rather  than  with  justice.  No  one  took  for 
granted  that  the  victim  had  sinned  against  the  Revolution.  People 
did  not  say,  "The  scoundrel."  They  said,  "What  a  pity!"  This  was 
one  of  the  Kremlin's  most  serious  blunders;  it  blunted  its  sharpest 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  225 

weapon.  The  GPU  was  originally  conceived  as  a  bulwark  of  the 
Revolution.  But  the  GPU  was  more  interested  in  the  feeling  of  in- 
security and  terror  which  its  acts  engendered.  The  Soviet  citizen  did 
not  merely  say,  "What  a  pity!"  when  a  friend  disappeared  in  the 
night.  He  said,  "If  he  has  been  taken  away  maybe  my  turn  will  come 


soon  too." 


Fear  also  killed  something  which  the  government  wanted.  Numer- 
ous engineers  were  so  frightened  of  making  an  error  that  they  tried  to 
do  as  little  work  as  possible.  Engineers  told  me  on  the  oilfields  at 
Baku  that  they  grew  nervous  as  they  approached  the  end  of  well- 
boring.  For  the  well  might  be  dry  and  then  their  failure  would  be 
charged  to  ill  will  even  though  some  borings  must  bring  in  nothing 
just  as  some  bring  in  gushers.  An  engineer  whom  I  knew  in  Moscow 
quit  his  factory  job  to  drive  a  taxi;  that  involved  no  risks. 

The  multiplicity  of  arrests  among  technical  personnel  so  decimated 
the  ranks  that  Sergo  Ordjonekidze,  a  Georgian  friend  of  Stalin's  and 
Chairman  of  the  Supreme  Economic  Council,  went  to  Stalin  and 
told  him  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  conduct  normal  industrial 
operations  unless  the  GPU  ceased  molesting  engineers.  He  also  com- 
plained that  whenever  the  GPU  required  an  engineer  for  a  Siberian 
or  Turkestan  project  it  simply  arrested  him  because  it  knew  that, 
what  with  the  scarcity  of  trained  industrial  leaders,  this  was  the  only 
way  of  getting  him. 

Stalin  saw  the  point,  and  he  himself  had  accounts  to  settle  with 
the  GPU.  On. June  23,  1931,  therefore,  Stalin  called  a  halt  to  the 
pogrom  of  intellectuals  and  professional  people  in  a  speech  hailed 
as  the  "Magna  Charta"  of  the  intelligentsia.  "These  comrades  should 
not  be  discouraged,"  he  ordered.  Within  a  fortnight  Stalin  reshuffled 
the  leadership  of  the  GPU. 

Stalin,  first  of  all,  demoted  Yagoda.  If  we  knew  more  about  the 
backstage  struggle  between  Stalin  and  Yagoda,  it  would,  I  believe, 
be  almost  as  absorbing  as  the  conflict  between  Stalin  and  Trotzky. 
The  battle  represents  the  attempt  of  a  dictator  to  rid  himself  of  the 
mechanism  which  made  him  dictator.  Stalin  wanted  to  be  free. 
Yagoda,  the  Bolshevik  Fouch6,  threatened  to  become  indispensable. 

The  titular  head  of  the  GPU  was  Menzhinsky,  who  was  physically 
and  mentally  unfitted  for  the  post.  Genrich  Yagoda  did  the  real  work; 
he  was  a  thin  man  with  furtive  look  and  a  Hideresque  mustache  who 
rarely  appeared  in  public.  He  started  and  ended  his  career  in  the 
GPU. 


226      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Yagoda  had  been  first  assistant  to  Menzhinsky.  Stalin  now  reduced 
him  to  second  assistant  and  placed  Akulov  over  him  as  first  assistant. 

Akulov  was  a  friend  of  Lenin's,  a  supporter  of  the  party's  Central 
Committee  rather  than  a  typical  official  of  the  secret  police.  He  was 
mild  instead  of  ruthless  and  he  believed  in  "revolutionary  legality" 
instead  of  wholesale  arrests.  He  immediately  stopped  the  mass  arrests 
of  engineers  and  intellectuals  which  had  provoked  resentment  in  that 
class  and  also  among  workers  who  saw  the  havoc  it  wrought  in 
industry.  He  dismissed  overzealous  and  unscrupulous  officials  of  the 
GPU,  replacing  them  in  some  cases  by  workingmen  with  a  simple 
but  healthy  revolutionary  psychology. 

Meanwhile  Yagoda  sulked.  He  remained  in  his  villa  outside  Moscow 
arid  rarely  came  to  work.  Within  four  months,  however,  Akulov 
was  pushed  out  of  the  GPU  and  received  the  comparatively  unim- 
portant post  of  Communist  party  secretary  in  the  Donetz  coal  basin. 
Yagoda  resumed  his  job  as  boss  of  the  GPU.  As  the  Russians  say, 
"the  apparatus  ate"  Akulov.  The  GPU  machine  refused  to  co-operate 
with  him.  And  apparently  Yagoda,  though  inactive  inside  the  GPU, 
was  working  hard  elsewhere,  pulling  wires.  He  had  purged  the 
Trotzkyites.  He  had  purged  the  Rykov-Tomsky  right  wing.  He 
knew  the  secrets  of  those  sealed  volumes.  In  1931,  Stalin  had  many 
enemies.  The  right  wing  was  not  completely  annihilated.  Yagoda 
might  have  joined  them.  The  country  was  in  an  unsettled  state  due 
to  industrialization  and  collectivization.  It  would  not  do  to  alienate 
Yagoda.  Stalin  could  shoot  him  or  reinstate  him,  but  the  shooting  of 
important  leaders  had  not  yet  commenced.  Stalin  was  not  yet  al- 
mighty. 

So  Yagoda  went  back  into  the  GPU.  But  Stalin  does  not  easily 
admit  defeat.  Vengeful  Georgian,  he  never  forgets  anyone  who  has 
defied  or  crossed  him.  Almost  two  years  elapsed.  On  June  20,  1933, 
Stalin  brought  Akulov  to  Moscow  again,  and  placed  him  not  within 
the  GPU  this  time,  but  over  it.  The  special  post  of  Federal  Procura- 
tor, or  Attorney  General,  was  created  for  Akulov,  and  the  decree 
which  did  so,  signed  by  the  President  of  the  Republic  Kalinin  and 
Prime  Minister  Molotov,  stated  that  he  would  exercise  "supervision 
.  .  .  ovfcr  the  legality  and  propriety  of  the  acts  of  the  GPU."  Akulov 
thus  became  the  supreme  judicial  officer  of  the  Soviet  Union.  His 
first  function  consisted  in  curbing  the  GPU,  and  primarily  Yagoda. 

Akulov  could  stay  any  sentence  passed  by  the  GPU.  He  could 
ask  for  pertinent  files  on  any  case.  He  could  re-investigate  any  case. 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  227 

His  headquarters  were  beleaguered  day  and  night  by  relatives  of 
imprisoned  citizens.  People  began  coming  back  from  exile.  He  com- 
muted several  death  sentences,  to  my  personal  knowledge.  One  con- 
cerned the  elder  brother  of  Alex  Gumberg.  Ambassador  Troyanovsky 
asked  Yagoda  what  Gumberg's  fate  would  be.  Yagoda  said  he  would 
be  shot.  Troyanovsky  asked  Akulov.  Akulov  said  he  would  not  be 
shot,  and  he  wasn't. 

Orders  were  given  to  the  GPU  not  to  arrest  any  engineer  without 
a  special  warrant  or  without  consultation  with  the  Central  Commit- 
tee of  the  party.  The  same  restrictions  were  placed  on  the  GPU 
with  respect  to  officers  and  men  in  the  Red  Army. 

The  latter  half  of  1933,  but  particularly  1934,  witnessed  a  general 
easing  of  the  atmosphere.  Of  course,  the  GPU  still  kept  busy.  But 
repression  tapered  off  perceptibly.  People  talked  more  freely.  Liter- 
ature reacted  to  the  change. 

Other  factors  operated  to  undermine  the  GPU's  position.  Litvinov's 
star  was  rising.  Soviet  diplomacy  played  an  increasingly  glorious 
role  in  world  affairs.  And  Litvinov  did  not  brook  the  interference 
of  the  GPU  in  foreign  policy.  It  had  in  the  past  arrested  foreigners 
without  warning  the  Soviet  Foreign  Office  and  had  thus  caused  com- 
plications. Its  agents  abroad  meddled  in  business  that  was  not  theirs 
and  brought  official  representatives  into  disrepute.  Litvinov  resisted 
the  GPU's  penchant  for  ubiquity. 

The  Red  Army  resented  the  GPU's  desire  for  omnipotence.  The 
GPU  was  itself  an  army,  an  61ite  corps,  and  its  officers  regarded  them- 
selves as  higher  than  army  officers.  But  Russia  was  arming  heavily; 
army  prestige  grew  commensurately  and  the  GPU  dropped  in  the 
scale. 

A  spy  story  struck  the  GPU  between  the  eyes  just  at  this  moment 
when  its  stocks  were  lowest.  In  1920,  the  Poles  attacked  Russia; 
Russia  drove  back  the  Poles  and  advanced  on  Warsaw.  In  the  ranks 
of  the  advancing  army  was  an  Ukrainian  Communist  named  Konar. 
The  Poles  captured  him  and  shot  him  and  gave  his  papers  to  a  Polish 
spy  named  Poleschuk.  Poleschuk  took  the  name  of  Konar  and  went 
into  the  Soviet  Ukraine  to  do  intelligence  work  for  Poland.  The  con- 
fusion resulting  from  war,  famine,  and  economic  collapse  made  his 
task  easy  and  he  found  a  job  with  the  Soviets.  He  rose  quickly  in  the 
Soviet  hierarchy.  He  rose  to  front  rank  in  the  Ukraine  and  then, 
being  very  capable,  was  transferred  to  Moscow  where  he  ultimately 
became  Assistant  Commissar  of  Agriculture  in  the  federal  govern- 


228      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ment.  As  such  he  attended  meetings  of  the  highest  political  bodies 
and  submitted  memoranda  to  Stalin  and  other  high  Bolsheviks.  He 
also  reported  to  the  Polish  government.  He  kept  touch  with  nu- 
merous Polish  spies  throughout  Russia. 

In  1931,  Konar  married  a  Soviet  film  star.  She  was  tall  and  beau- 
tiful. He  was  happy  and  had  almost  reached  the  pinnacle  in  the 
Soviet  Union.  The  Polish  ties  were  now  a  nuisance  and  danger  to 
him.  He  decided  to  break  them.  But  the  Poles  would  not  let  him. 
Such  a  man  could  be  of  endless  service  to  them  just  because  he  ranked 
so  high.  They  had  him  in  their  power  because  one  word  from  them 
and  he  would  be  arrested  by  the  GPU  and  shot.  Konar  therefore 
continued  to  work  for  them. 

One  day  at  a  big  committee  meeting  in  Moscow,  Konar  was  in- 
troduced to  an  Ukrainian  official.  The  official  did  not  understand, 
He  had  known  Konar  well.  This  was  not  Konar.  He  watched 
throughout  the  meeting,  and  then  carried  his  suspicions  to  the  GPU. 

The  GPU  spied  on  Konar.  A  GPU  agent  with  a  concealed  camera 
took  a  photograph  of  him  in  a  commission  shop  in  Moscow  where 
he  went  to  deliver  papers  to  the  Polish  military  attache,  Kovalevsky. 
Konar  was  shot;  Kovalevsky  was  recalled. 

I  can  imagine  the  conversation  between  Stalin  and  Yagoda  at  this 
point.  "What  good  are  you,"  Stalin  would  have  yelled,  "if  you  can't 
keep  foreign  spies  out  of  my  own  office?  You  have  your  people 
everywhere  but  you  couldn't  spot  a  spy  who  was  with  us  for  thirteen 
years!" 

Economic  conditions  improved.  The  country  was  quiet.  The  GPU 
was  doing  a  bad  job  and  its  opponents  pressed  the  case  against  it. 
In  January,  1934,  accordingly,  the  Soviet  government  transferred 
some  of  the  judicial  functions  of  the  GPU  to  civil  courts;  henceforth 
the  shorn  GPU  would  carry  the  name  of  Commissariat  of  Internal 
Affairs. 

Normally,  when  a  commissariat  is  established,  the  commissar  is 
appointed  simultaneously.  But  the  new  commissariat  remained  with- 
out a  commissar  for  six  months  while  a  brisk  struggle  proceeded 
behind  the  scenes.  Rumor  had  it  that  Stalin  favored  Jan  Rudzutak, 
a  Lettish  Communist,  for  the  job.  Rudzutak  was  numbered  among 
the  upper  ten  Bolsheviks.  (Later  he  was  executed.)  But  Yagoda 
fought  for  his  own  retention.  Maxim  Gorky  supported  him.  Gorky 
and  Yagoda  were  friends,  and  a  complicated  personal  relationship 
existed  between  them.  Gorky  exercised  great  influence  over  Stalin 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  229 

who  respected  his  culture  and  was  pleased  to  have  Russia's  greatest 
artist  among  his  supporters.  In  July,  1934,  accordingly,  Yagoda  re- 
ceived the  appointment  of  Commissar  of  Internal  Affairs,  He  had 
won  again. 

But  Commissar  Yagoda's  power  was  smaller.  He  was  small  phys- 
ically, too;  all  the  recent  GPU  heads  have  been  small  men.  I  saw 
him  looking  smallest  one  freezing  morning  in  December,  1934,  on 
the  Red  Square,  several  days  after  an  assassin  named  Nikolaiev  killed 
Sergei  Kirov— Bolshevik  No.  4— in  Leningrad.  Nikolaiev  had  been 
demoted  at  his  government  office  and  he  blamed  it  on  Kirov  and 
shot  him  in  the  back  of  the  neck. 

The  Soviet  government  immediately  ordered  the  execution  of 
one  hundred  and  three  persons  who  were  in  prison  when  the  crime 
occurred.  They  could  not  have  had  anything  to  do  with  Kirov's 
death.  But  suicides  are  notoriously  contagious,  and  the  Bolsheviks  felt 
that  assassinations  were,  too.  The  Soviet  press  has  always  been  cau- 
tious about  the  way  it  reports  attempts  on  the  lives  of  foreign  states- 
men. It  does  not  want  to  suggest  anything  to  individuals  in  Russia 
who  may  be  harboring  the  same  idea.  The  shooting  of  the  one  hun- 
dred and  three,  most  of  them  foreign  spies  but  some  young  dissident 
Communists,  was  a  coldblooded  act  of  intimidation.  The  Nation  com- 
mented on  this  event  in  an  editorial  paragraph.  I  criticized  it  in  a 
letter  to  Miss  Kirchwey  from  Moscow  (The  Nation  may  have  thrown 
away  Hitler's  letter,  but  it  kept  all  of  mine,  and  I  now  have  them 
for  reference.) :  "Your  editorial  paragraph  in  the  issue  of  December 
19  is  mild,  and  I  would  have  made  it  stronger.  ...  I  cannot  excuse 
the  executions,  and  what  is  more  I  haven't  seen  a  good  explanation. 
...  I  think  it  is  all  very  artificial,  this  new  search  for  heretics  who 
are  so  scarce  these  days.  Moreover,  you  cannot  shoot  103  Whites 
thus  giving  the  impression  of  a  White  Guard'  plot  and  then  exile 
Zinoviev  ...  as  the  inspirer  of  the  deed." 

When  the  news  of  Kirov's  murder  reached  Moscow,  Stalin  and 
Yagoda  took  the  next  train  for  Leningrad.  Stalin  then  did  a  strange 
but  logical  thing;  he  talked  to  the  assassin  alone  for  several  hours. 
It  must  have  been  important  for  Stalin  to  understand  the  mind  of  a 
Soviet  citizen  and  Communist  who  would  shoot  one  of  Russia's  most 
popular  leaders. 

Nikolaiev  had  been  a  follower  of  Zinoviev,  and  an  ex-Opposition- 
ist, "Stalin,"  I  wrote  in  an  article,  "came  to  the  conclusion:  'Once  an 
Oppositionist,  always  an  Oppositionist,'  and  although  his  power  is 


230      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

supreme  and  unquestioned,  Stalin  decided  to  proceed  immediately 
with  the  complete  annihilation  of  the  small  remnant  of  unhappy 
Trotzkyists  and  Zinovievists  who,  through  recantation,  had  crept 
back  into  minor  posts  in  the  party  and  in  the  government."  I  believe 
this  helps  to  explain  the  subsequent  Moscow  trials.  Almost  all  the 
defendants  in  them  were  ex-Oppositionists,  Stalin  was  afraid  that 
they  would  turn  against  him  in  a  crisis.  His  naturally  suspicious  mind 
told  him  that  men  who  had  been  loyal  to  Trotzky  or  Zinoviev  or 
Kamenev  would  not  really  be  loyal  to  him  despite  all  their  protesta- 
tions. 

Kirov  lay  in  state  in  Moscow.  Stalin  kissed  the  dead  man  on  the 
lips  and  later  he,  and  Kalinin,  Voroshilov,  Kaganovitch,  and  others 
carried  the  urn  with  the  ashes  through  the  streets  and  the  Red  Square 
to  the  wall  where  it  was  immured.  I  stood  very  close  to  this  group 
as  it  passed  and  my  farsighted  eyes  had  an  excellent  view.  Stalin  was 
really  sad,  for  Kirov  was  his  bosom  friend.  But  I  watched  Yagoda 
more.  Yagoda  marched  near  the  urn,  and  his  eyes  were  now  on 
Stalin  now  on  the  guards  who  guarded  Stalin.  He  looked  like  a  hunted 
animal  himself.  Stalin  must  have  given  him  a  good  drubbing.  Stalin's 
first  act  in  Leningrad  had  been  to  dismiss  the  highest  GPU  officials 
in  the  city  for  neglect. 

At  events  on  the  Red  Square,  a  number  of  leaders  precede  Stalin 
to  the  reviewing  stand  on  Lenin's  beautiful  marble  mausoleum.  He 
arrives  a  bit  late— whether  by  design  or  not  I  do  not  know.  This  day 
Stalin  walked  up  the  steps  first,  and  alone,  and  stood  alone  on  the 
Stand  for  a  minute,  tuniing  his  head  slowly  from  one  side  to  the  other 
as  if  to  say,  "Here  I  am.  I  am  not  afraid."  Then  the  others  ascended. 
The  Red  Army  had  placed  special  guards  on  the  Red  Square  for  the 
Kirov  funeral  to  supplement  the  GPU  which  always  had  a  monopoly 
on  that  duty.  The  guards  wore  fresh  uniforms  with  no  insignia. 

Stalin  can  wait.  He  possesses  consummate  patience.  It  is  one  of  his 
crowning  virtues;  he  owes  much  of  his  success  to  it.  He  built  up 
his  own  position  slowly.  He  tears  down  his  enemies  and  rivals  in  in- 
stallments. If  he  can  negotiate  a  distance  in  two  jumps  he  prefers 
them  to  one,  and  three  are  still  better.  He  destroyed  Trotzky  in  six 
stages,  Zinoviev  and  Kamenev  in  four,  Rykov  and  Tomsky  in  three; 
he  took  the  Baltic  states  in  two  lunges.  He  is  like  an  animal  of  prey 
which  first  paws  its  victim  to  feel  out  its  strength,  then  strikes  to 
cripple  and  steps  back  to  watch  the  effect,  and  finally  kills.  In  his 
mind  there  must  be  a  ledger  page  marked  "Unfinished  Business"  in 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  231 

which  are  entered  the  names  of  those  men  who  have  not  been  fin- 
ished. Here  he  put  down  Yagoda  several  times  and  here  also  in 
I934"3S  he  inscribed  all  ex-Oppositionists. 

By  i935»  t^e  GPU  had  been  deprived  of  its  special  prerogatives 
and  cowed.  This  was  part  of  a  healthy  process  of  democratization 
which  Stalin  did  not  try  to  arrest.  Anti-Bolshevik  classes  and  groups 
had  disappeared.  The  kulaks  were  no  more  an  important  social  factor. 
Indeed  many  of  them,  emaciated  and  contrite,  now  commenced  re- 
turning to  their  villages.  The  intellectuals,  as  a  body,  were  pro-Soviet. 
Non-Communist  engineers  were  elevated  to  high  positions  in  in- 
dustry. Party  membership  ceased  to  be  a  special  privilege,  and  non- 
Communists  were  not  necessarily  suspected  of  less  loyalty  than  Com- 
munists. Distinctions  between  groups  grew  thinner.  The  Nepmen 
were  no  more.  A  recession  from  official  lawlessness  manifested  itself 
everywhere.  Draconian  measures  did  not  cease  altogether,  but  the 
trend  was  definitely  in  the  direction  of  moderation.  The  Kremlin 
apparently  realized  that  arbitrary  acts  and  violence  could  not  per- 
manently replace  wise  civil  administration.  More  and  more,  the 
regime  now  appealed  through  persuasion  to  self-interest. 

Despite  the  Kirov  assassination,  1935  marks  the  high-water  mark  of 
personal  freedom  in  the  Soviet  Union.  It  almost  coincided  with  the 
point  of  greatest  prosperity.  Both  coincided  with  the  maximum 
restrictions  on  GPU  ruthlessness. 

The  curbs  on  the  GPU  were  attributed  by  Bolsheviks  to  the  wis- 
dom of  Stalin.  They  are  attributable  to  that  and  to  his  intolerance 
of  competition.  Stalin's  policy  has  always  been  the  greatest  possible 
concentration  of  authority  in  himself  and  the  greatest  possible  diffu- 
sion of  administration  among  others,  so  that  nobody  becomes  too 
strong.  Soviet  embassies  abroad  have  on  occasions  telegraphed  Mos- 
cow for  permission  to  hold  afternoon  teas.  No  individual  or  institution 
in  Russia  is  allowed  to  acquire  too  much  popularity  or  authority. 
Stalin  tries  to  monopolize  the  popularity  and  authority  and  to  lend 
them  to  subordinates  whenever  the  needs  of  administration  require  it, 
but  always  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  quickly  retractable  and  rigidly  con- 
trolled. Prime  Minister  Molotov  and  Lazar  Kaganovitch  and  others 
carry  out  important  functions  and  bear  heavy  burdens.  Stalin  can- 
not do  all  the  work  himself.  But  they  are  his  tools  and  he  can  un- 
make them  at  will. 

Stalin  is  a  genius  at  organization.  He  has  assembled  a  tribe  of  lieu- 
tenants who  depend  on  his  favor  and  who  are  too  small  or  too  grate- 


232      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ful  or  too  slow  or  too  frightened  to  make  a  move  against  him.  Any 
display  of  excess  individualism  or  excess  ambition,  or  excess  popu- 
larity, will  get  them  into  trouble.  They  know  it.  This  shows  in  big 
things  and  in  little  things.  A  foreign  photographer  once  came  to 
Moscow  to  take  pictures  of  the  Bolshevik  chiefs.  When  War  Com- 
missar Voroshilov  was  approached  he  asked  whether  Stalin's  picture 
had  been  taken.  He  waited  until  it  had  been  and  then  he  posed. 
Frederick  Kuh  of  the  United  Press,  returning  from  a  trip  to  Man- 
churia, once  had  an  interview  with  Voroshilov  at  which  I  was  pres- 
ent. Voroshilov  took  Kuh's  dispatch  to  Stalin  for  censorship.  He  did 
not  venture  to  do  it  himself.  Kuh  wrote,  by  way  of  describing  the 
scene,  that  a  revolver  lay  on  Voroshilov's  desk.  Voroshilov  thought 
it  would  not  be  wise  to  let  that  appear  in  print  abroad.  Stalin  said, 
"Why?  A  military  man,  a  revolver."  I  have  these  facts  from  the  third 
person  present. 

Stalin  supervises  the  little  things  so  as  to  train  his  subordinates  not 
to  do  big  things  without  him,  and  they  end  up  by  not  doing  little 
things  without  him.  Stalin  receives  literally  thousands  of  letters  daily 
from  all  parts  of  the  country.  He  reads  many  of  them  himself,  and 
each  letter  receives  a  reply  either  from  him  or  from  the  department 
concerned.  He  encourages  this  letter-writing.  It  makes  him  popular. 
It  advertises  his  role  as  dispensor  of  favors  and  arbiter  of  fates. 

When  Boris  Pilniak  wanted  to  go  to  the  United  States  on  the 
invitation  of  the  late  Ray  Long  of  Cosmopolitan  he  applied  for  a 
passport  in  usual  fashion  to  the  GPU.  He  received  a  rejection.  He 
applied  a  second  time  and  was  refused.  Then  he  wrote  a  personal 
note  to  Stalin  and  the  next  day  a  messenger  brought  him  a  letter  from 
Stalin  promising  that  he  would  "intercede"  on  his  behalf  with  the 
authorities.  The  many  friends  who  entertained  the  gay,  carousing 
Pilniak  in  America  know  that  Stalin's  little  "intercession"  worked. 

The  Baseches  episode  reveals  another  Stalin  technique. 

Baseches  was  a  little  ugly  man  always  picking  the  sores  on  his 
forehead.  He  said,  proudly,  that  he  was  an  illegitimate  son  of  the 
Austrian  Emperor  Francis  Joseph.  When  he  forgot  he  said,  equally 
proudly,  that  he  descended  from  Hungarian  nobility  which  in  that 
case  must  have  been  Jewish.  Apparently  he  was— but  you  could  never 
be  sure— a  lieutenant  in  the  Austro-Hungarian  army  of  occupation 
in  the  Ukraine  in  1918.  He  spoke  Russian  well,  having  been  gradu- 
ated from  a  Moscow  high  school.  He  came  back  to  Russia  in  1922 
as  correspondent  of  the  Vienna  Neue  Freie  Presse  and  wrote  an  ex- 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  233 

cellent  book  on  Soviet  economy.  When  cafes  opened  in  Moscow 
a  new  life  commenced  for  him.  He  spent  every  evening,  literally, 
in  the  Metropole  Cafe,  and  when  you  came  in  with  a  woman  he  came 
over  and  kissed  her  hand  whether  she  liked  it  or  not,  and  sat  down 
whether  you  asked  him  or  not.  Out  of  habit  he  would  ask  for  a  loan, 
and  some  gave  it  to  him.  He  knew  many  people  and  dug  up  odd  bits 
of  information  from  the  flotsam  of  the  Russian  bourgeoisie.  These 
he  put  into  articles  once  too  often,  and  Moscow  decided  to  deport 
him.  Soviet  dealings  with  foreign  correspondents  were  the  reserved 
province  of  the  highest  Politbureau.  No  lesser  authority  could  take 
any  important  decision  about  them.  And  it  was  the  Politbureau  which 
voted—they  always  voted  and  signed  their  names  to  the  resolutions 
they  adopted— to  expel  Baseches  from  the  Soviet  Union.  An  excerpt 
from  the  Politbureau  minutes  was  sent  to  Chief  of  the  GPU  Yagoda 
and  that  was  tantamount  to  an  order  to  escort  the  Viennese  corre- 
spondent to  the  frontier. 

Podolsky  heard  about  it.  Podolsky  was  assistant  head  of  the  press 
department  of  the  Foreign  Office.  He  had  studied  philosophy  in 
Switzerland  and  France,  spoke  German,  French,  and  English  per- 
fectly, was  moderate,  quiet,  sometimes  brilliant,  always  tired;  he  had 
three  little  children  and  a  sick  wife  and  he  loved  his  children  as  no 
man  ever  has  and  would  disappear  frequently  from  his  desk,  rush 
down  the  Foreign  Office  stairs,  with  milk  can  and  shopping  net  in 
hand,  to  join  a  queue  in  the  hope  of  buying  the  family  some  food.  One 
summer  he  got  a  month's  vacation  in  the  Caucasus.  But  he  stayed  no 
more  than  a  week.  He  missed  his  two  litde  daughters  and  his  son.  So 
this  baldheaded  Jacob  Podolsky  learned  that  Baseches  was  to  be  de- 
ported. He  went  to  see  his  chief,  Litvinov.  He  explained  that  he 
wanted  to  hold  no  brief  for  Baseches.  He  disliked  him  and  abhorred 
his  anti-Soviet  views.  But  if  the  Soviet  government  expelled  Baseches, 
Podolsky  argued,  the  outside  world  would  say  that  Moscow  toler- 
ated only  those  correspondents  who  were  pro-Soviet  and  banished 
all  others.  Podolsky  therefore  thought  the  Politbureau  decision  a  mis- 
take. Litvinov  said  in  effect:  Mind  your  own  business;  who  are  you 
to  question  the  fiat  of  the  supreme  Bolshevik  authority?  Podolsky 
was  just  a  minor  official  even  in  the  Foreign  Office.  Ajiyway,  Lit- 
vinov added,  the  matter  is  now  in  Yagoda's  hands,  and  Baseches  will 
be  on  his  way  tomorrow. 

Undaunted,  Podolsky  telephoned  Yagoda.  That  required  a  lot  of 
courage.  The  average  Soviet  citizen  and  official  stands  in  mortal 


234      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

dread  of  the  master  of  the  GPU.  Podolsky  told  Yagoda  his  doubts 
about  the  wisdom  of  deporting  Baseches.  Yagoda  probably  could 
not  believe  his  ears,  but  he  instructed  Podolsky,  in  direct,  rude  lan- 
guage, to  keep  off  the  premises.  The  GPU  had  received  its  instruc- 
tions, and  that  was  all. 

By  this  time  it  was  midnight.  Baseches  would  be  leaving  the  next 
morning.  Podolsky  telephoned  Stalin's  apartment  in  the  Kremlin. 
A  woman's  voice  answered  the  telephone.  Podolsky  told  her  who 
he  was  and  asked  her  to  remind  Comrade  Stalin  that  he  had  been  to 
Stalin's  office  as  an  interpreter  for  foreign  interviewers.  She  came  back 
with  the  request  to  call  again  in  twenty  minutes.  Podolsky  waited, 
nervous  but  determined.  He  dialed  again;  the  same  woman's  voice; 
she  said,  "Just  a  minute,"  and  in  a  minute  Stalin  said,  "Yes?"  Podol- 
sky, overwhelmed,  spoke  what  he  had  hastily  rehearsed  many  times: 
Baseches  was  a  "Svoloch"  (scoundrel),  but  by  expelling  him  the 
government  would  undermine  the  authority  of  those  journalists  who 
remained.  Stalin  listened,  with  an  occasional  "Da"  (yes)  which  be- 
came friendlier  as  Podolsky  developed  the  argument.  Finally  Stalin 
said,  "I  cannot  change  Politbureau  decisions.  But  we  can  reconsider 
the  matter  at  our  next  session.  Meanwhile  Baseches  can  stay  on." 
The  Politbureau  reconsidered,  and  Baseches  was  not  expelled.  (Podol- 
sky disappeared  in  the  big  purge  of  1938.  I  saw  Baseches  in  Paris 
after  the  war  started  in  1939.) 

The  Baseches  episode  shows  some  of  Stalin's  virtues.  He  is  ac- 
cessible to  persons  and  to  common  sense  when  he  wishes  to  be,  and 
he  is  not  rigid  in  his  thinking.  In  fact,  he  is  given  to  zigzagging  in 
major  policy.  He  experiments,  and  if  he  fails  he  pursues  another 
course.  But  through  it  all  he  knows  best  how  to  maintain  his  own 
throne  on  the  apex  of  the  Soviet  pyramid. 

In  Moscow  they  tell  this  story  which  certainly  is  untrue:  Stalin  is 
sitting  in  his  office  in  the  Kremlin.  He  summons  Lazar  Kaganovitch, 
Bolshevik  No.  2.  After  initial  greetings,  Stalin  says: 

"Have  you  been  seeing  Molotov  of  late?" 

"Yes,"  Kaganovitch  replies. 

"How  do  you  get  on  with  him?"  Stalin  inquires. 

"Very  well,"  Kaganovitch  replies. 

"I  have  been  noticing  something  very  queer,"  Stalin  says.  "Molotov 
tells  everybody  you  are  a  Jew." 

"Well,  I  am  a  Jew,"  Kaganovitch  declares. 

"Yes,"  Stalin  agrees,  "but  why  should  he  say  it?  He  must  be  up  to 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  235 

something.  Why  should  he  keep  emphasizing  the  fact  that  you  are 
a  Jew  when  everybody  knows  it?" 

"That's  right,"  says  Kaganovitch  wrinkling  his  brow.  "I  wonder 
what  Molotov  is  planning  to  do!"  He  goes  out. 

Stalin  summons  Molotov.  After  initial  greetings,  Stalin  says: 

"Have  you  been  seeing  Kaganovitch  of  late?" 

*Tes,"  Molotov  replies. 

"How  do  you  get  on  with  him?"  Stalin  inquires. 

"Very  well,"  Molotov  replies. 

"I  have  been  noticing  something  very  queer,"  Stalin  says.  "Kagan- 
ovitch tells  everybody  that  you  stutter." 

"Well,  I-I-do  st-stutter,"  Molotov  stutters. 

"Yes,"  Stalin  agrees,  "but  why  should  he  say  it?  He  must  be  plan- 
ning something.  Why  should  he  keep  emphasizing  that  you  stutter 
when  we  all  know  it  and  don't  mind  it?" 

"That's  right,"  says  Molotov  wrinkling  his  brow.  "I  wonder  what 
Kaganovitch  is  up  to!"  He  goes  out.  Stalin  rubs  his  hands  gleefully 
and  exclaims,  "Now  I  can  work." 

However  fantastic  the  story,  it  describes  a  method  which  Stalin 
has  employed  more  than  once.  All  dictators  fear  rivals.  But  Stalin 
removes  them  with  uncommon  thoroughness  and  ease,  and  he  is  un- 
doubtedly more  powerful  in  the  Soviet  Union  than  Hitler  is  in  Ger- 
many or  Mussolini  in  Italy. 

The  wish  of  a  dictator  to  enjoy  unchallenged  support  is  normal  in 
a  dictatorship.  But  there  is  a  side  of  Stalin's  personality  which  is 
decidedly  abnormal.  Stalin's  entire  life  as  a  statesman  has  been  directed 
towards  destroying  one  duality— Lenin  and  Trotzky— which  history 
accepted,  and  substituting  another— Lenin  and  Stalin.  He  pursues 
this  goal  with  a  relentlessness  and  pettiness  which  are  epic,  and  path- 
ological. 

Stalin  is  a  big  man,  else  he  would  not  be  where  he  is."  But  big  men 
are  not  immune  to  the  emotions  and  weaknesses  of  lesser  men. 
Jealousy,  wounded  pride,  the  desire  for  publicity,  the  ambition  to 
disprove  inferiority,  revenge,  and  the  urge  to  open  closed  doors  actu- 
ate great  politicians  as  well  as  lawyers,  merchants,  and  college  grad- 
uates. Indeed,  the  passion,  temperament,  and  drive  which  raise  a 
politician  to  the  heights  also  intensify  and  magnify  these  personal 
frailties  until,  as  in  Stalin's  case,  they  mold  history. 

Trotzky  was  many  things  which  Stalin  would  have  liked  to  be. 
Trotzky  was  a  magnetic  figure,  a  brilliant  writer,  a  great  speaker,  a 


236      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

master  theoretician,  and  a  noted  historian.  He  had  glamor  and  fire. 
He  was  unusual  and  not  pedestrian.  Moreover,  he  had  treated  Stalin 
with  the  contempt  and  disdain  of  a  superior.  Lenin  had  assumed  that 
Trotzky  would  succeed  him.  Lenin's  last  testament  contained  some 
barbed  criticism  of  Trotzky's  shortcomings,  but  it  denounced  Stalin 
and  asked  that  he  be  removed  from  the  post  of  party  secretary  which 
he  then  occupied. 

To  prove  to  himself,  Russia,  and  the  world  that  he  was  entitled 
to  wear  the  mantle  of  Lenin,  to  prove  that  he  was  not  the  inferior  of 
Trotzky— these  became  Stalin's  personal  goals.  They  spurred  him  to 
great  effort,  to  success,  to  achievement,  and  to  cruelty,  dishonesty, 
and  ruthlessness. 

First  of  all,  every  mention  and  memory  of  Trotzky  had  to  be 
stamped  out.  In  Russia  today  none  of  Trotzky's  books  can  be  ob- 
tained even  in  the  libraries  for  reference.  All  Soviet  citizens  have 
burned  or  otherwise  destroyed  all  books  by  Trotzky,  all  magazines, 
articles,  and  pamphlets  that  contained  statements  by  or  in  favor  of 
Trotzky,  and  all  photographs  of  Trotzky.  To  own  a  picture  of 
Trotzky  in  Russia  would  be  tantamount  to  writing  one's  jail  sentence. 
All  Soviet  histories  and  encyclopedias  have  been  revised  and  repub- 
lished  so  that  Trotzky's  role  in  Soviet  life  has  either  been  entirely 
eliminated,  or  blackened  and  distorted.  Authors  have  contrived  to 
write  histories  of  the  Red  Army  without  using  Trotzky's  name  once 
although  he  was  its  organizer  and  the  first  Bolshevik  War  Commis- 
sar. Without  special  permission  it  is  even  forbidden  to  quote  Trotzky 
in  order  to  attack  him,  for  it  could  easily  be  alleged  that  the  quota- 
tion, although  used  ostensibly  to  condemn,  was  really  intended  as 
Trotzkyist  propaganda.  (Boris  Mironov,  a  Soviet  friend  of  mine,  a 
Jew,  and  a  fervent  Bolshevik  and  anti-Nazi,  wrote  a  book  of  sketches 
of  Nazi  leaders  and  necessarily  cited  the  words  of  Hitler,  Goebbels, 
and  others.  The  book  was  published  in  Moscow  with  official  approval, 
but  later  the  Soviet  press  accused  Mironov  of  writing  it  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  Nazi  propaganda  in  Russia.)  John  Reed's  Ten  Day? 
That  Shook  the  World  has  been  suppressed  and  cannot  be  found  in 
any  Soviet  bookstore  or  library  despite  the  fact  that  Lenin  read  it 
twice  and  wrote  an  enthusiastic  introduction  for  it.  For  years  it  was 
considered  the  finest  Communist  propaganda  and  was  used  abroad 
as  such.  But  no  more— because  it  pays  tribute  to  Trotzky's  part  in 
the  birth  of  the  Revolution  and  ignores  Stalin.  The  new  legend,  how- 
ever, omits  Trotzky  as  a  character  in  the  Bolshevik  Revolution.  He 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  237 

was  just  not  there,  according  to  all  recent  Soviet  publications.  And 
no  longer  could  anyone  read  the  classic  stories  of  the  Revolution, 
like  John  Reed's  book,  which  told  of  the  intimate  collaboration  be- 
tween Trotzky  and  Lenin.  Trotzky  can  only  be  spoken  of  in  Russia 
as  a  Fascist,  an  assassin,  a  counter-revolutionist,  a  person  who  tried 
when  he  was  in  Russia  and  after  he  left  to  wreck  the  Revolution. 

Stalin,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  organizer  of  the  Red  Army; 
he  it  was  who  always  stood  by  the  side  of  Lenin.  Recent  films  show 
Lenin  turning  to  Stalin  and  asking  for  his  advice  in  difficult  moments. 
Children's  books  contain  the  same  perverted  view.  To  exterminate 
every  trace  of  Trotzky,  Stalin  has  felt  it  necessary  not  only  to  re- 
move every  Trotzkyist  from  circulation,  and  also  to  remove  any 
person  who  ever  dared  to  attribute  mistakes  or  weaknesses  to  Stalin. 

Today,  Stalin  must  be  hailed  in  Russia  as  the  source  of  all  good, 
the  originator  of  all  ideas,  the  father  of  every  successful  enterprise. 
Few  writers  finish  an  article  or  book  without  quoting  profusely 
from  Stalin.  I  have  opened  at  random  a  volume  of  the  Great  Soviet 
Encyclopedia.  In  the  article  on  "Mythology,"  eighteen  lines  out  of 
one  hundred  and  sixty  are  devoted  to  Stalin.  The  article  on  "Meta- 
physics" says,  "In  the  country  led  by  the  genius  of  Stalin,  leader  of 
all  peoples,  the  struggle  against  metaphysics  rests  on  a  materialistic 
base."  The  article  on  "Mehring"  quotes  Lenin  twice  and  Stalin  twice. 

The  tasteless  fawning  adulation  of  Stalin  which  I  criticized  in  print 
as  early  as  1930  seems  mild  compared  to  the  heights,  or  depths,  of 
sycophancy  attained  in  subsequent  years.  In  1934,  the  Soviet  ice- 
breaker Chelmskin  came  through  a  truly  heroic  adventure  in  the 
Arctic.  The  whole  world  applauded.  Of  course,  Stalin  did  it.  The 
workingmen  of  Leningrad  sent  a  letter  to  Stalin  saying,  "Thanks  to 
your  wise  leadership  this  epic  ended  with  victory.  .  .  .  You  are  the 
great  collaborator  of  Lenin  and  now  continue  his  work.  .  .  .  Be- 
loved Comrade  Stalin  .  .  .  gifted  leader  of  the  world  proletar- 
iat .  .  ."  Thousands  of  resolutions  in  the  same  style. were  published 
throughout  Russia's  press  stories  of  the  Cheliuskin. 

But  Stalin  is  not  merely  an  Arctic  explorer.  He  is  also  the  father  of 
Soviet  sport  and  gymnastics.  An  article  on  the  "Purity  of  Newspaper 
Language"  quotes  Stalin's  language  as  a  shining  example.  President 
Kalinin  said,  "Ask  me  who  best  understands  the  Russian  language  and 
I  reply— Stalin."  He  is  also  the  greatest  general.  An  editorial  on  the 
Red  Army  dated  November  19,  1934,  explains  that  during  the  Civil 
War,  "the  inexhaustible  strength  of  Stalin  reigned  at  the  front.  The 


238      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

party  entrusted  him  with  the  most  dangerous  tasks  in  the  first  line. 
.  .  ."  Peasants  greet  Stalin,  "Our  first  word  of  love,  of  greeting,  we 
send  you,  our  own  Stalin,  our  beloved  friend,  our  teacher.  .  .  ." 
The  women  of  the  country  announce  that  "Stalin's  name  arouses  a 
wave  of  delight,  love  and  devotion  in  us.  ...  We  thank  Comrade 
Stalin  for  a  free,  joyful  life.  .  .  x  We  thank  Comrade  Stalin  for  the 
wonderful  path  and  aims  which  his  strong  hand  points  out  to  us." 
The  national  slogan  of  Russia's  children  is,  "Thanks,  Comrade  Stalin, 
for  a  happy  childhood." 

Nine  cities  and  towns  in  the  Soviet  Union  have  been  named  after 
Stalin,  and  the  post  office  must  have  a  lot  of  trouble  with  Stalingrad, 
Stalinogorsk,  Stalinabad,  Stalin,  Stalino,  Stalinir,  Stalinissi,  and 
Stalinaoul.  Thousands  of  clubhouses,  streets,  factories,  farms,  moun- 
tain peaks,  ships,  coal  mines,  oilfields,  railway  spurs,  and  sport  organi- 
zations—but, significantly,  no  children—have  been  given  Stalin's  name. 

This  well-conducted  symphony  of  personal  glorification  served  as 
the  musical  accompaniment  to  the  establishment  of  the  leaning  tower 
of  Stalin's  personal  dictatorship.  With  the  hindsight  and  perspective 
I  now  have,  I  can  understand  what  happened  in  the  years  between 
1931  and  1936  in  Soviet  Russia.  There  were  two  lines  of  develop- 
ment; they  moved  in  opposite  directions.  One  line  was  towards  the 
devolution  of  the  terror,  the  undermining  of  the  GPU,  the  guarantee 
of  civil  rights.  This  line  reached  its  point  of  culmination  in  the  Con- 
stitution of  1936  which  I  shall  discuss  in  a  separate  chapter.  The 
trend  towards  democracy  was  fostered  by  general  economic  improve- 
ment and  the  decimation  and  conversion  of  anti-Bolshevik  elements 
in  the  population.  Those  who  remained  could  be  accorded  better 
treatment.  The  second  line  led  to  Stalin's  personal  dictatorship.  In 
the  beginning,  this  tendency  required  the  harnessing  and  constricting 
of  the  GPU.  But  having  attained  his  goal,  Stalin  needed  a  mighty 
secret  police  to  keep  him  there,  and  he  therefore  resurrected  the 
GPU,  annulled  the  Constitution  in  fact,  resurrected  the  terror  with 
unprecedented  ferocity,  and  instituted  the  big  purges  and  the  Mos- 
cow trials.  Thus  the  progression  towards  Soviet  democracy  was  killed 
by  Stalin's  own  ambition. 

I  always  felt  a  lusty  antipathy  for  the  GPU.  I  knew  too  inti- 
mately many  of  the  decent  people  it  had  destroyed  or  paralyzed  by 
fear,  to  approve  its  excesses.  I  greeted  with  joy  and  recorded  in  my 
articles  each  successive  measure  by  which  Stalin  clipped  its  wings. 
My  repugnance  to  the  dithyrambic  chorus  of  Stalin  praise  never  re- 


STALIN  AND  THE  GPU  239 

mained  a  secret.  I  aired  it  on  numerous  occasions  in  conversations 
with  Mironov,  with  Radek,  with  Mikhalsky,  the  Ixvestia  editor  who 
visited  America,  and  with  many  others.  They  attributed  it  to  my 
"Trotzkyism."  I  was  never  a  Trotzkyist.  My  spirit  simply  reacted 
against  falsely  picturing  one  man  as  the  acme  of  all  virtues  and  ham- 
mering all  others  on  the  head  so  that  only  pigmies  remained  all 
about  him. 

In  Stalin's  favor  I  chalked  up:  One,  the  erection  of  new  factories 
and  cities  and  the  rise  of  an  industrialized  country  based  on  village 
collectivization  designed  to  banish  recurrent  famine.  Two,  the  relaxa- 
tion of  repressive  measures  which  tapered  off  perceptibly  after  1933. 
Against  Stalin  I  held  the  concentration  of  power  and  the  oriental, 
fawning  exaltation  of  one  infallible,  indispensable,  inevitable,  omnip- 
otent all-high.  But  I  did  not  foresee  that  his  yearning  for  supreme 
power  would  cancel  out  his  own  encouragement  of  the  movement 
towards  freedom.  I  did  not  realize  that  it  would  destroy  the  moral 
character  of  the  nation,  demoralize  every  citizen,  crush  the  capacity 
to  think,  and  pave  the  way  to  a  regime  which,  beginning  in  1937, 
was  less  democratic  than  Russia  had  ever  been  under  Bolshevism  or 
Czarism. 

Yet  I  still  feel  that  even  Stalin  has  not  been  able  to  kill  all  the  good 
that  came  out  of  the  Revolution.  Whatever  is  left  has  no  real  expres- 
sion in  Soviet  politics.  It  cannot  influence  present-day  policy.  In  fact, 
a  prolongation  of  Stalin's  rule,  by  him  or  his  successor,  may  com- 
pletely destroy  it.  But  if  a  different  and  better  world  ever  emerges 
out  of  the  welter  and  chaos  and  blood  that  mar  our  lives  today  it 
will  find  in  Russia  allies  who  are  now  silent  and  unhappy. 


13-  Palestine  Revisited 

MOSCOW  is  bitter  cold  in  the  winter.  It  gets  dark  at  three 
in  the  afternoon.  I  hate  cold  and  darkness.  The  Moscow 
winter  begins  in  October;  and  one  year  it  snowed  on 
May  i.  In  January,  1934,  this  was  too  much  for  me,  and  I  decided 
to  go  in  quest  of  the  sun.  I  chose  Palestine.  I  left  Moscow  in  mid- 
January  during  a  fierce  blizzard  and  eleven  days  later  I  was  swim- 
ming in  the  Dead  Sea. 

I  went  from  Moscow  to  Odessa  by  train  and  there  boarded  the 
Soviet  steamer,  Novorossisk.  She  was  forty  years  old  and  full  of  big 
rats.  At  night  I  had  to  burn  a  light  overhead  to  keep  the  beasts  from 
my  face.  Occasionally  I  felt  them  on  the  blanket  but  there  was  just 
nothing  to  do  about  it.  At  Constantinople  I  got  off,  rested,  and 
walked  the  city  streets  for  two  days;  then  I  boarded  an  Italian  luxury 
liner  for  Athens,  where  I  discovered  to  my  horror  that  the  Novoros- 
sisk had  caught  up  with  me  and  was  the  only  boat  scheduled  to  leave 
Greece  for  Palestine  in  the  near  future.  Off  Crete  we  almost  foun- 
dered in  a  storm,  but  the  rats  apparently  never  got  seasick.  The 
democracy  of  the  Soviet  crew  offered  some  compensation  for  physi- 
cal discomforts— the  best  quarters  were  occupied  by  the  sailor's  club 
and  the  stokers  ate  with  the  captain;  nevertheless,  I  was  glad  when 
we  landed  at  Tel  Aviv. 
In  Palestine  again! 

I  had  spent  fifteen  months  in  Palestine  in  1919-20.  In  1917,  I  vol- 
unteered to  serve  in  the  Jewish  legion  which  the  British  govern- 
ment was  then  recruiting  in  the  United  States  to  help  reconquer  the 
Holy  Land.  After  experiences  in  Canada,  England,  France,  Italy, 
and  Egypt,  we  finally  got  to  Palestine  when  the  War  had  ended, 
and  our  unit  saw  no  fighting.  But  my  friends  said  I  did  plenty  of 
fighting  with  the  British  officers.  I  complained  about  the  worms  in 
the  dog  biscuits  that  were  given  to  us  in  lieu  of  bread;  I  protested 
against  being  "paraded"  to  synagogue  every  Saturday.  What  riled 
me  most  was  the  spirit  of  this  army  that  had  just  won  the  War  for 

240 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  241 

democracy.  At  Alexandria  I  saw  a  British  officer,  embarking  for 
demobilization  in  England,  make  a  special  trip  down  the  ship's  gang 
plank,  kick  an  Egyptian  of  the  labor  corps,  and  say  in  my  hearing, 
"This  was  my  last  chance." 

I  was  a  corporal,  and  regulations  required  private  soldiers  who 
wished  to  speak  to  an  officer  to  be  "paraded"  before  him  by  a  non- 
com  like  myself.  Once  I  escorted  two  privates  to  an  officer,  clicked 
heels,  saluted  according  to  the  manual,  and  said,  "These  gentlemen 
would  like  to  talk  to  you." 

"In  the  British  army,"  he  declared  stiffly,  "the  only  gentlemen  are 
the  officers."  Well,  I  didn't  like  that  and  my  conduct  showed  it. 
Everything  went  more  or  less  smoothly,  however,  until  I  was  elected 
a  member  of  the  battalion  committee.  Then  my  captain  decided  to 
take  revenge.  I  used  to  go  on  leave  without  permission  rather  regu- 
larly. The  Jewish  legion  excelled  in  that  form  of  indiscipline.  Usually 
they  never  bothered  to  catch  us.  Now  my  officer  reported  me  ab- 
sent and  Captain  Harvey  sentenced  me  to  a  fortnight  in  prison  at 
Kantara,  on  the  Suez  Canal.  They  took  the  trouble  to  transport  me 
from  Palestine  to  Egypt  across  the  country  which  the  Israelites  had 
passed  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  confided  me  unlovingly  into 
the  hands  of  a  brutal-faced  sergeant.  The  food  was  miserable,  the 
hours  long,  the  treatment  colonial.  Some  prisoners  were  beaten.  The 
camp  was  situated  out  in  the  desert.  In  the  morning  we  did  all  sorts 
of  "fatigues,"  and  then,  when  the  Egyptian  sun  was  high,  we  put  on 
full  packs— thick  leather  straps,  haversack  by  the  side,  shovel  and 
packed  bag  on  the  back— and  did  knee  bending,  jumping  in  position, 
arm  and  leg  calisthenics.  Afternoons,  we  filled  straw  baskets  with 
loam  dug  from  the  desert,  carried  them  about  one  hundred  yards 
and  made  a  mound.  When  it  was  large  enough  the  sergeant  ordered 
us  to  take  the  loam  back  and  fill  in  the  holes.  I  slept  in  a  tent  with 
tough  Scotsmen  of  the  Black  Watch  regiment,  and  only  their  wit 
and  tales  of  personal  adventure  in  the  late  war  prevented  me  from 
becoming  permanently  embittered  against  the  British  people.  When 
I  returned  to  my  battalion  in  Palestine  I  tried  to  be  demobilized  so  I 
could  live  in  the  country  as  a  civilian.  But  army  kw  did  not  allow 
that,  and  I  remained  a  British  soldier  until  1920. 

In  soldier's  uniform  and  hobnailed  boots  I  went  literally  from  Dan 
to  Beersheba.  Near  Dan,  the  Jordan  began,  and  I  heard  its  youthful 
rumble  in  the  distant  hills  while  standing  night  guard  at  blockhouses 
in  the  Jewish  colonies  of  Tel  Hai  and  Cfar  Gileadi,  which  were 


242      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

being  besieged  by  Bedouins.  A  young  settler  named  Shor  was  killed 
at  my  feet  while  Arab  bullets  whistled. all  around. 

Taking  advantage  of  a  three-day  leave  from  the  army,  I  had  made 
my  way  to  Upper  Galilee  to  participate  in  the  defense  of  those  iso- 
lated Jewish  points.  On  my  return  to  the  battalion  after  seventeen 
days'  absence,  the  sergeant  marched  me  into  Captain  Jaffe's  tent  for 
"trial."  "I  missed  my  train  in  Tiberias,"  I  pleaded,  and  while  the 
sergeant  and  I  tried  to  keep  a  straight  face,  the  Captain  shouted,  "Dis- 
missed." Later  he  called  me  to  inquire  how  things  were  going  up 
there. 

I  met  most  of  Palestine's  Jewish  labor  leaders  in  those  years:  Beril 
Katzenellenson,  Ben  Zwi,  Yavniali,  Ben  Gurion,  Dov  Hoz,  Gollomb, 
and  others.  I  visited  many  of  the  collectivist  farms  where  young  emi- 
grants from  Russia,  Poland,  Rumania,  and  other  lands  led  a  rustic 
Rousseauan  life  based  on  egalitarian  principles.  The  streets  of  Pal- 
estine's Jewish  cities  were  paved  with  ideals  and  the  soil  of  Jewish 
farms  were  fertilized  with  Jewish  blood.  Never  had  a  downtrodden 
people  attempted  to  build  a  haven  for  itself  at  such  cost  and  sacri- 
fice. Yet  that  long  stay  in  Palestine  dimmed  my  Zionism,  and  Soviet 
Russia  later  extinguished  it. 

Zionism  is  Jewish  nationalism  nailed  to  a  territorial  objective,  and 
I  know  now  that  I  have  never  felt  deeply  Jewish.  The  fate  of  Jews 
in  Nazi  Germany  does  not  touch  me  any  more,  nor  any  less,  than 
the  hardships  of  German  pacifists,  or  socialists,  or  Catholics.  I  have 
asked  myself  whether  this  is  really  so;  I  have  tried  to  study  my  emo- 
tions about  it,  and  I  am  sure  I  am  telling  the  truth.  The  plight  of 
one  wartime  refugee  is  just  as  distressing  to  me  as  that  of  another— 
whether  he  be  Jewish  or  French  or  Spanish.  Palestine  and  Jews  never 
stirred  me  as  much  as  the  Spanish  Republicans  in  their  struggle 
against  Fascism. 

Some  of  my  best  friends  are  Jews,  and  some  ar  not.  I  was  born 
and  raised  in  the  Jewish  Ghetto  of  Philadelphia.  From  an  orthodox 
Jewish  family  background  one  step  took  me  into  the  Zionist  move- 
ment. It  was  not  conviction  but  just  glide.  Most  American  Jews 
remain  in  the  Ghetto  even  when  they  move  to  the  fashionable 
suburbs  and  join  country  clubs.  Their  personal,  social,  and  even 
business  contacts  with  non-Jews  are  astoundingly  few.  It  is  not 
always,  perhaps  it  is  seldom,  their  fault.  This,  therefore,  is  no  plea 
for  assimilation.  It  takes  two  to  make  a  bargain.  And  even  after  the 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  243 

bargain  has  been  sealed  and  delivered  a  Hitler  or  a  Mussolini  or  a 
Coughlin  may  remind  Jews  of  ties  they  had  hoped  to  forget. 

Jewish  segregation  was  greatest  in  Poland  and  Czarist  Russia  which 
excelled^in  discrimination.  But  it  is  far  from  negligible  in  free  coun- 
tries like  England  and  the  United  States.  It  tends  to  create  a  special 
Jewish  emphasis  on  Jewish  problems.  I  do  not  doubt  their  impor- 
tance or  the  necessity  of  coping  with  them.  But  other  problems  are 
larger;  they  encompass  the  world  and  are  therefore  more  alluring. 
Indeed,  as  I  studied  the  Jewish  question  in  Soviet  Russia,  Poland, 
and  Germany,  I  felt  more  and  more  that  Jewish  problems  never  stand 
by  themselves,  but  are  the  by-products  of  vaster  problems.  Jews  are 
the  symptom  of  a  malady.  The  malady's  the  thing.  As  I  moved  out 
into  the  world  and  seized  opportunities  to  investigate  the  major  world 
trends  in  politics,  economics,  and  sociology,  I  became  less  interested 
in  specifically  Jewish  matters.  Jews  often  told  me  that  this  was  a 
"crime"  and  a  "sin." 

I  explained  to  my  friends  in  Palestine  in  1934  that  I  had  not  come 
to  gather  material  for  articles,  but  merely  to  luxuriate  in  the  warm 
air,  and  I  picked  Palestine  because  they  were  there.  Mrs.  Irma 
Lindheim,  a  rich  New  Yorker,  telephoned  me  from  a  Communist 
farm  in  the  North  and  asked  me  to  come  study  their  new  life.  I  told 
her  what  I  told  all  others,  "I'm  loafing."  They  either  did  not  believe 
me  or  they  politely  suggested  that  I  was  a  "traitor  to  my  people"  or 
they  attributed  a  sinister  purpose  to  my  trip.  Some  assured  me  that 
I  had  strayed  from  the  fold  but  would  return  like  so  many  others. 

I  stayed  with  Gershon  Agronsky  and  his  wife  Ethel,  Philadelphia 
friends  of  my  youth.  With  three  delightful  children  they  inhabited 
a  fine  old  Arab  house  in  the  Arab  quarter  where  few  Jews  dared 
to  live.  But  Gershon,  editor  and  publisher  of  the  daily,  English-lan- 
guage Palestine  Post,  is  a  mildly  romantic,  mild  Don  Quixote,  and 
stayed  on  in  the  district  even  though  women  who  ventured  to  come 
unescorted  in  the  evening  arrived  with  palpitating  hearts  from  much 
running  and  with  tales  of  lurking  Arabs.  Later,  I  am  told,  Gershon 
relented  and  moved  to  the  Jewish  suburb  on  top  of  a  Jerusalem  hill. 
He  had  been  trying— perhaps  subconsciously— to  prove  a  point:  that 
a  Jew  could  live  wherever  he  wished  in  the  Jewish  homeland,  and 
that  Arab  and  Jew  could  mix. 

In  Tel  Aviv,  I  renewed  a  pleasant  acquaintance  with  Maurice  Sam- 
uel, a  Zionist  who  thinks,  a  wit  with  ideas,  and  in  Jerusalem  I  saw 


244      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Dr.  Schmarya  Levin,  his  daughter  Enya,  and  a  friend  Eiga  Shapiro 
whom  I  had  known  well  in  New  York.  To  Gershon's  house  came 
young  Moshe  Chertok,  official  of  the  Jewish  Agency,  and  others 
bearing  Zionist  politics.  I  enjoyed  most  several  visits  to  Dr.  Judah 
Magnes,  Chancellor  of  the  beautiful  Hebrew  University  on  Mt. 
Scopus,  and  several  times  trudged  up  to  visit  him.  Every  time  I 
went  to  see  Magnes,  Gershon  figuratively  gritted  his  teeth  and  ac- 
tually exploded  into  invective.  For  Magnes  had  propounded  an  Arab- 
Jewish  peace  pact,  and  Gershon  and  his  Zionist  colleagues  wanted 
peace  with  the  Arabs  only  on  Jewish  terms  and  only  when  the  Jews 
had  become  a  majority  in  Palestine.  Magnes,  a  former  New  York 
rabbi,  wrote  a  book  on  the  Soviet-German  Brest-Litovsk  peace  nego- 
tiations. He  is  one  of  those  persons  who  is  religious  enough  to  take 
his  religion  seriously.  "Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  led  him  to 
sympathize  with  working  people,  at  one  time  with  Communists,  and 
at  all  times  with  the  Arabs. 

Everything  I  heard  and  saw  in  Palestine  in  1934  confirmed  the 
opposition  to  Zionism  born  during  my  earlier  stay.  There  are  enough 
national  hatreds  and  inequalities  in  the  world.  A  movement  conceived 
in  high  idealism  as  Zionism  undoubtedly  is  should  not  create  more. 

Louis  Lipsky,  Abe  Goldberg,  and  other  Zionist  leaders  in  Amer- 
ica had  always  insisted  that  there  was  no  Arab  problem  in  Pales- 
tine; just  a  few  effendi  landlords,  they  said,  who  conducted  anti- 
Zionist  propaganda  from  comfortable  hotels  and  caf£s  in  Cairo  or 
Paris  while  making  lots  of  money  selling  Jews  their  Palestine  estates. 
But  they  were  deluding  themselves  to  give  themselves  false  comfort. 

Imperialism  usually  benefits  the  colonials  it  oppresses.  Yet  it  nur- 
tures nationalism  in  the  oppressed.  Zionism  intensified  this  effect  of 
British  imperialism. 

In  1919  and  1920,  the  young  Jews  I  knew— the  two  Grazovsky 
boys,  Hoz,  and  others,  many  of  them  first  generation  Palestinians 
or  arrivals  from  Eastern  Europe— spoke  Arabic.  Tel  Aviv  ate  vege- 
tables from  Arab  truck  gardens  and  Jewish  merchants  operated  in 
the  adjacent  city  of  Jaffa.  In  Jerusalem  even  more  Jews  knew  Arabic, 
in  fact  Aorabic  was  the  native  tongue  of  some  Jews.  Jewish  agricul- 
tural settlements  employed  many  Arabs, 

But  in  1934,  the  young  generation  knew  no  Arabic.  Gershon's  son 
Danny  had  picked  up  a  few  words  in  the  street;  he  did  not  learn  it 
in  school.  Yet  Arabs  are  the  majority  in  the  country.  I  saw  Arabs 
in  Tel  Aviv  very  rarely  and  then  they. seemed  to  be  on  a  voyage  of 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  245 

discovery,  while  for  Jews  to  go  to  Jaffa  was  an  adventure.  In  this 
little  land,  two  races,  both  Semitic,  both  laying  historic  claim  to  it, 
lived  in  separate  circles;  their  chief  contacts  were  through  stones, 
clubs,  and  rifle  shots.  At  the  exquisite  Hotel  David  in  Jerusalem,  we 
went  to  dance  Saturday  evenings  on  a  floor  of  stone  slabs  as  smooth 
as  silk.  The  Jews  sat  in  one  part  of  the  room,  the  Arabs  in  another, 
the  British  officers  in  a  third.  The  officers  danced  with  Arab  women 
and  occasionally  even  with  Jewish  women— but  Arab  with  Jew?  I 
am  sure  it  was  never,  but  I  will  say  almost  never.  .  . 

There  are  always  eff endis,  and  paid  agents  of  various  foreign  coun- 
tries stirring  up  trouble,  but  Arab  nationalism  had  become  real.  Arab 
"Boy  Scouts"  in  shorts  were  men  training  as  an  and- Jewish  army, 
while  Jews  engaged  in  running  guns  from  Belgium  because  they  had 
to  be  prepared. 

As  Gershon  Agronsky  was  the  unofficial  press  spokesman  for 
the  Zionist  movement,  so  another  "G.A.,"  George  Antonius,  corre- 
spondent of  the  Crane  Foundation,  expressed  official  Arab  views. 
"Lives  in  the  mufti's  house,"  Gershon  sneered  when  I  went  to  lunch 
with  Antonius  and  his  beautiful  Egyptian  wife,  sister  of  Mrs.  Smart 
of  the  British  Residenecy  in  Cairo  whom  I  met  later  in  Moscow. 
Antonius  talked  about  an  emerging  and  unifying  nationalism  in  the 
entire  Arab  world— Syria,  Trans  jordania,  Iraq,  Egypt,  North  Africa— 
with  support  from  the  Moslems  of  India.  The  Jews  were  building 
a  rich  new  home  in  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  Heroic?  Yes.  But  was 
it  wise? 

In  Tel  Aviv  I  saw  shops  that  seemed  to  have  been  transported 
straight  from  the  Kurfuerstendamm  in  Berlin  after  the  advent  of 
Hitler,  shops  filled  with  expensive  house  furnishings,  modernistic 
glass  ornaments,  Rosenthal  chinaware— it  all  appeared  so  incongruous 
in  a  poor  pioneering  country.  Meanwhile,  the  British  High  Com- 
missioner, according  to  newspaper  reports,  was  going  among  the 
Arab  villages  remitting  taxes;  there  had  been  a  crop  failure.  Of 
course,  some  Arabs  were  also  fabulously  wealthy. 

The  Jewish  economy  of  Palestine  was  abnormal  and  unsound 
and  depended  on  regular  financial  injections  from  outside.  Because 
of  land  speculation,  which  contrasted  sharply  with  the  advanced 
policy  of  the  Jewish  National  Fund,  orange  groves  were  planted 
that  promised  to  yield  three  times  as  much  fruit  as  available  mar- 
kets would  absorb,  and  I  was  asked  when  Soviet  Russia  would  buy 
Jaffa  oranges.  Strange  source  of  support  for  Zionism!  Gershon  said, 


246      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

"We  don't  worry.  Anti-Semitism  will  always  save  us.  Now  the 
German  Jews  are  bringing  their  capital  into  Palestine.  Later  it  will 
be  Austrian  Jewish  capital.  And  South  Africa.  And  maybe  French." 
There  would  always  be  new  bricks  to  buttress  the  artificial  struc- 
ture which,  nevertheless,  would  remain  artificial. 

Palestine  is  part  of  a  huge,  feudal,  Arab  continent.  Zionism  is  an 
attempt—daring  but  difficult— to  unhook  it  and  float  it  over  to  Europe. 

I  went  to  a  Jerusalem  concert  where  the  Casadesus  quartet  played 
on  antiquated  musical  instruments.  When  it  was  finished  I  stood  up 
and  found  that  I  was  the  only  one  on  my  feet.  For  everyone  had 
remained  in  their  seats  because  the  British  High  Commissioner  had 
not  risen.  This  was  unimportant  but  symbolic.  England  and  Ireland 
were  then  negotiating  and  quarreling  about  annuity  payments  and 
trade.  Gershon's  Palestine  Post  took  the  British  side.  Astonished,  I 
asked  why  and  he  replied,  "We  must  support  the  British  empire." 
By  force  of  circumstances  and  inevitably,  Zionism  is  tied  to  the  apron 
strings  of  British  imperialism.  This  is  a  source  of  both  strength  and 
weakness.  Bayonets  are  not  good  to  lean  on  for  a  long  time,  and 
the  bayonets  may  be  withdrawn,  or  they  may  be  knocked  down  by 
a  stronger  arm.  Zionism's  alliance  with  England  doubled  Arab  hatred 
for  Zionism  and  England.  It  was  a  liability  to  the  British  and  a  danger 
to  the  Jews. 

Given  the  stubborn  insistence  on  Palestine  and  no  other  place  as 
the  Jewish  homeland— an  insistence  that  can  be  criticized  but  not 
condemned,  for  only  the  stubborn  win— Zionist  security  lay  in  an 
understanding  and  close  collaboration  between  Jews  and  Arabs.  That 
is  easier  said  than  done,  but  many  Zionists  agreed  when  I  argued 
that  they  never  tried  very  hard.  Even  Jewish  labor  leaders,  very 
enlightened,  advanced,  and  sentimentally  internationalist  (they  were 
collecting  huge  sums  while  I  was  there  for  the  Viennese  Socialists 
whose  tenements  had  been  shelled  by  the  Austrian  government) 
made  only  a  brief  perfunctory  attempt  at  organizing  bi-racial  trade 
unions.  Chertok,  the  efficient  laborite,  unconsciously  gave  me  the 
reason  when  he  said  his  nationalism  came  far  ahead  of  his  socialism. 
Low  Arab  living  standards  and  wage  levels,  to  be  sure,  are  a  serious 
bar  to  mixed  organizations.  But  when  the  fate  of  a  movement  and 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  depends  on  success  in  bridging 
this  gap,  the  stubborn  ones  should  have  been  stubborn,  here  too. 
The  gulf  between  Jew  and  Arab  is  wider  than  ever,  the  efforts  to 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  247 

close  it  fewer  than  ever,  and  conciliators  like  Dr.  Magnes  invite  abuse 
and  contumely. 

The  Zionist  dilemma  was  clear  in  1934,  but  a  major  Jewish  occu- 
pation in  Palestine  was  that  of  pooh-poohing  dangers  and  Cassandra- 
like  prophecies.  It  improved  the  mood.  And  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
a  surprisingly  large  proportion  of  the  Jews  I  encountered  there  were 
happy.  This  is  endlessly  important  on  a  planet  so  immersed  in  mis- 
ery. It  is  perhaps  the  best  answer  to  some  of  my  jeremiads.  Some. 

Even  if  Zionism  were  a  paradise  for  the  few  Jews  in  Palestine, 
the  Jewish  problem,  involving  as  it  does  millions  of  Jews,  cannot 
be  solved  in  so  small  a  territory.  Small  geographically,  Palestine  is 
merely  a  pinhead  politically.  The  Jewish  future  in  Palestine  and 
elsewhere  will  be  determined  by  the  outcome  of  a  much  vaster  strug- 
gle of  free  people  against  totalitarian  slavery.  Until  the  Norwegians, 
Dutch,  Danes,  and  French— aye,  until  the  Germans,  Italians,  and 
Spaniards  are  free,  a  Jewish  Palestine  is  a  chimera  and  Jews  in  all 
countries  will  suffer  mounting  disabilities  and  cruelties.  We  are  all 
citizens  of  one  big  but  closely  knit  world.  Liberty  and  decency  are, 
like  peace,  indivisible.  Racial  prejudice  is  the  most  contagious  of 
man's  diseases. 

They  asked  me  in  Palestine  about  Russian  Jewry  and  about  the 
Jews  of  Poland.  I  told  them  that  in  the  Soviet  Union  Jews  were 
equal.  A  rabbi  was  persecuted  in  the  same  manner  as  minister,  priest, 
or  mullah.  Jewish  merchants  suffered  the  same  restrictions  as  Tatar 
or  Russian  or  Ukrainian  or  Turkoman  merchants.  Jewish  working- 
men,  peasants,  or  officials  had  the  same  rights,  advantages,  and  duties 
as  the  Ukrainian,  Armenian,  Kabardian,  Georgian,  or  Chuvash 
proletariat.  Any  Jew  could  join  the  proletariat  and  thereby  become 
equal.  Many  former  Jewish  tradesmen,  industrialists,  and  landowners 
had  done  so  by  finding  employment  in  factories  or  by  settling  in  one 
of  the  Ukrainian  and  Crimean  colonies  fostered  by  the  American 
Joint  Distribution  Committee  and  directed  in  Russia  by  that  saint 
among  men,  Dr.  Joseph  A.  Rosen. 

Innumerable  Jewish  merchants  just  dropped  their  former  pursuits 
and  lived  with  their  children  who  might  be  Communists  or  Soviet 
officials  or  workingmen.  Others  persisted  in  long-ingrained  habits, 
and  I  told  friends  in  Jerusalem  of  the  case  I  knew  of  a  Jew  in  Kursk 
who  collects  old  tin  cans  and  stamps  crosses  out  of  them  and  sells 
them,  secretly,  to  peasants  or,  wholesale,  to  priests  for  anywhere 
from  five  to  fifty  rubles.  He  markets  about  two  thousand  crosses  a 


248      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

month  and  had  been  in  business  for  a  year.  Sometimes  he  visits  Mos- 
cow looking  for  tin  cans.  When  he  is  caught,  as  he  inevitably  will  be, 
he  will  be  punished  not  as  a  Jew  but  as  an  illicit  businessman. 

Anti-Semitism  in  Soviet  Russia,  I  told  them,  was  counter-revolu- 
tionary. Anti-Semitism  is  a  hardy  plant,  and  Czarism  had  fed  it  well. 
But  the  Bolsheviks  cut  it  down  and  tore  out  its  roots  one  by  one. 
The  vestiges  that  remained  were  being  attacked  with  a  view  to  total 
eradication.  Why?  Because  Bolshevism  is  essentially  a  doctrine  of 
internationalism.  Nationalism  and  nationalistic  hates  are  foreign  to  its 
conception.  But  also  for  a  more  practical  reason.  Soviet  internal  peace 
required  that  the  two  hundred  or  more  racial  units  live  harmoniously 
together.  If  the  Bolsheviks  tolerated  Jewish  inferiority,  the  Tatars 
could  argue  that  the  Armenians  were  inferior  and  the  Georgians 
might  want  to  dominate  the  Ossetians,  and  then  the  Russians,  largest 
national  agglomeration,  might  claim  hegemony  over  them  all.  Anti- 
Semitism  would  undermine  the  Soviet  state  and  transform  its  char- 
acter. Inevitable  under  the  Great  Russian  supremacy  of  Czarism,  anti- 
Semitism  is  unthinkable  as  long  as  the  Leninist  principle  of  equality 
of  nationalities  prevails.  Just  as  the  dogma  of  Deutschland  Ueber 
Alles  brings  anti-Semitism  and  must  inspire  Nazi  attempts  at  foreign 
conquest,  so  the  Soviet  policies  of  no  Russian  nationalism,  no  dis- 
crimination between  nationalities,  no  foreign  conquests  and  no  anti- 
Semitism  are  all  tied  together,  all  part  of  the  same  cloth.  This  was 
the  lesson  I  preached  in  Jerusalem  in  1934. 

Moshe  Chertok  suggested  that  the  Nazis  simply  wanted  the  jobs 
of  ousted  Jews.  It  went  much  deeper.  The  Soviet  Union  stood  on 
the  foundation  of  class  war.  What  distinguished  a  man  in  Russia  was 
not  the  color  of  his  skin  or  the  temperature  of  his  blood  or  the  length 
of  his  nose  but  whether  he  worked  for  his  living  or  exploited  others. 
Hitler,  however,  wished  to  blot  out  class  differences.  Employer  and 
employee  must  be  part  of  one  racial  fellowship.  To  erase  class  dis- 
tinctions he  emphasized  differences  of  blood. 

At  Gershon's  table,  in  Magnes's  apartment,  at  Dr.  Levin's  chess- 
board in  the  Vienna  Caf6,  it  was  not  sufficient,  however,  to  prove 
that  the  three  million  Jews  of  Soviet  Russia  were  physically  safe  and 
economically  and  politically  as  well-off  or  as  badly  off  as  the  next 
non-Jewish  fellow.  What  about  Jewish  culture  and  the  Jewish  re- 
ligion? Why  were  Zionists  persecuted  and  imprisoned? 

I  gave  them  the  answer  I  gave  Judge  Julian  W.  Mack  at  a  Menorah 
Journal  dinner  in  New  York  in  1932.  Maurice  Hindus  and  I  spoke 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  249 

on  the  Jewish  situation  in  Russia,  and  in  the  question-period  Judge 
Mack  sent  Chairman  Henry  Hurwitz  this  note  (I  stuck  it  into  my 
pocket  and  kept  it),  "Unlike  most  Zionists  I  had  thought  I  under- 
stood and  while  deploring  could  explain  the  reasons  for  anti-Zionist 
activity  by  the  Bokheviks.  But  if,  as  Mr.  Fischer  says,  no  one  asks 
him  about  Palestine,  if  as  he  says,  Zionism  is  dead  among  Russia's 
Jewish  youth,  why  this  continued  harshness  against  what  must,  on 
this  assumption,  be  but  an  insignificant  number  of  Jews— those  who 
do  advocate  Zionism?" 

I  replied  that  the  Bolsheviks  were  consistent.  They  objected  to 
Zionist  activity  because  it  was  a  bourgeois,  pro-imperialist  movement, 
and  because  in  Russia  bourgeois  social  and  political  activities  were 
proscribed.  Only  the  proletariat  is  entitled  to  organize  itself.  It  doesn't 
matter  how  many  Zionists  there  are  and  what  influence  they  exercise. 
Their  work  is  illegal  and  when  they  engage  in  it  they  do  so  knowing 
the  attendant  risks.  I  myself  had  in  1922  and  1923  attended  meetings 
in  Moscow  of  Socialist  Zionists.  Zionists  who  were  not  bourgeois 
could  function,  but  it  soon  developed  that  these  Zionists  began  to 
stress  their  Communism  more  than  their  Zionism,  and  then  they 
ceased  being  Zionists  and  became  professional  Jewish  Communists. 
The  Jewish  Communists  were  the  spearhead  of  anti-Zionist  persecu- 
tion. 

"Then  what  of  Jewish  culture  and  religion?"  they  persisted  in 
Jerusalem. 

"Dead  or  dying,"  I  said.  Remnants  persisted,  but  the  young  gen- 
eration was  lost  to  the  synagogue  as  to  the  church  and  mosque.  The 
Bolsheviks  encouraged  the  teaching  of  Yiddish  as  the  popular  Jewish 
tongue.  Several  Yiddish  daily  papers  and  many  big  editions  of  the 
works  of  Sholom  Aleichem  and  Sholom  Asch  were  published.  The 
government  maintained  schools  where  Yiddish  was  the  language  of 
instruction.  "But,"  I  added,  "Jewish  parents  do  not  want  their  chil- 
dren to  attend  such  schools."  They  prefer  schools  in  which  Russian 
is  used.  That  opened  larger  possibilities  for  future  professional  activ- 
ity. Moreover,  intermarriage  was  very  prevalent  and  Jewish  men 
were  at  a  premium;  they  stayed  sober  and  made  good  fathers. 

"That  means  assimilation  and  submergence,"  they  concluded. 

I  said,  "Some  day,  maybe." 

"And  will  Armenians  or  Georgians  be  assimilated?" 

"Probably  not  so  soon  if  at  all." 

I  agreed  that  the  dispersal  of  Jews  accounted  for  the  difference. 


250      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  Armenians  sat  on  their  own  territory.  This  proved  the  Zionist 
contention  that  Jews  must  have  a  homeland,  they  argued. 

."Which  would  you  rather  have,"  I  asked  unfairly,  "the  threat 
of  assimilation  in  Russia  or  of  annihilation  in  Poland?"  I  had  studied 
the  Jewish  situation  in  Poland  in  1922  and  devoted  a  month  of  re- 
search to  it  in  1926  in  preparation  for  a  special  series  of  articles  in 
the  Menorah  Journal.  Since  then  I  have  from  time  to  time  visited 
Poland,  interviewed  its  statesmen,  journalists,  diplomats,  businessmen, 
and  farmers.  The  Jewish  situation  deteriorated  steadily  after  the  birth 
of  the  modern  independent  Poland.  It  was  worse  in  1926  than  in 
1922  and  worse  in  1934  than  in  1926.  And  always  it  was  hopeless. 

The  Jews  of  the  world  are  caught  in  the  toils  of  waxing  national- 
ism. In  a  weak  national  state  like  Poland  they  were  the  scapegoats, 
in  a  strong  national  state  like  Nazi  Germany  they  are  the  victims. 
The  more  nationalistic  the  majority  the  greater  the  cruelty  inflicted 
on  a  national  minority.  For  nationalism  is  parochial,  intolerant,  and 
egoistic.  The  true  Jewish  solution  is  not  in  setting  up  another  na- 
tionalism but  in  breaking  down  all  nationalism.  The  Zionists  answer, 
"And  what  happens  to  Jews  in  the  meantime?"  We  know  what 
happened:  destruction  of  bodies  through  murder  and  suicide  and  the 
endless,  aimless  wanderings  of  refugees,  mangling  of  spirit,  and 
smashing  of  cultural  centers. 

Poland  before  the  second  World  War  was  a  one-story  hut  with  no 
facilities.  The  Poles  did  not  say  we  must  build  us  a  better  house.  They 
said  there  are  too  many  Jews  in  our  mud-thatched  cabin  and  they 
must  get  out  and  go  as  far  away  as  possible.  The  Poles  said  there 
were  too  many  Jews  in  the  cities  but  refused  to  grant  them  farms. 
The  Polish  peasants  said  there  were  too  many  Jewish  traders  and 
boycotted  them,  and  then  patronized  new  Polish  merchants  who 
stepped  into  the  Jewish  stores. 

So,  as  we  sat  discussing  in  sun-lit  Palestine,  the  outlook  of  the 
three  million  Polish  Jews  seemed  dark,  and  to  Zionists  the  outlook 
of  Russian  Jews  was  dark,  and  to  me  the  outlook  for  Palestine  was 
dark.  I  had  a  good  month's  vacation  nevertheless.  Hot  sun  in  Febru- 
ary! The  short  automobile  run  from  cool  Jerusalem  to  torrid  Kallia 
on  the  Dead  Sea  was  like  sliding  down  a  chute  into  a  cauldron,  and 
many  people  get  sick  at  their  stomachs.  A  Scotsman  who  lives  there 
led  a  woman  to  the  beach  and  said,  "Now  you  are  the  lowest  woman 
in  the  world."  We  were  furthest  below  sea  level,  and  on  the  horizon, 
in  brown  haze,  were  Amman  and  Moab.  One  relived  the  Bible  and 


PALESTINE  REVISITED  251 

one's  religious-school  youth.  I  rowed  over  to  the  spot  where  the 
Jordan  flows  into  the  briny  lake,  and  again  at  Jericho  we  watched 
Arabs  on  donkeys  cross  the  narrow  Jordan  bridge  to  Transjordania. 
A  single  open  aqueduct  built  by  the  Romans  still  makes  Jericho  a 
big  green  patch  in  a  bleak,  yellow  alkali  desert.  Dates  and  diminutive 
bananas  and  vegetables  grow  profusely.  Here  the  Arabs  are  darker 
and  interspersed  with  black  Bedouins  and  Nubians.  Outside  the  tiny 
city,  these  sons  of  Esau  did  the  spadework  for  archaeologists  who 
were  exposing  to  view  the  ancient  walls  of  Jericho.  The  small  bricks 
of  pressed  mud  obviously  had  had  to  crumble  at  the  puff  from 
Joshua's  trumpets. 

Sir  Herbert  Samuel,  the  first  British  High  Commissioner,  had 
owned  a  winter  home  in  Jericho,  and  when  he  went  back  to  England 
he  presented  it  to  a  group  of  the  Jewish  intellectual  £lite  who  took 
turns  at  weekends  in  it.  The  Agronskys  invited  me.  The  servants 
were  old  Russian  peasant  women  from  the  province  of  Tver.  They 
had  come  in  1913  to  kneel  at  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  and  the  War  had 
left  them  stranded. 

Reluctantly,  for  I  was  enjoying  myself,  I  boarded  at  Jaffa  a  fast 
French  liner  for  Marseilles.  We  lay  over  for  a  day  in  Alexandria 
where  I  had  lived  as  a  soldier.  I  had  an  errand  to  do.  In  Moscow  a 
Jewish  dentist  had  given  me  a  family  portrait  to  deliver  to  his  sister. 
When  the  civil  war  and  the  pogroms  drowned  the  Ukraine  in  blood 
in  1919,  he  fled  with  his  father  to  Moscow,  and  she  with  her  mother 
to  Egypt.  She  was  a  dentist,  too.  They  were  separated  for  life.  To 
go  to  Russia  from  Egypt  meant  to  brand  yourself  a  Bolshevik,  and 
the  Soviet  government  did  not  allow  its  citizens  to  go  abroad.  The 
earth  had  become  a  world  of  walls  made  of  stouter  material  than  mud 
or  even  granite,  and  the  walls  were  guarded  by  stupid  humans  with 
machine  guns. 


14-  Mediterranean  Russia 

IN  1933,  Markoosha's  purse  was  stolen  on  a  Moscow  trolley.  Some 
such  accident  happened  to  her  about  once  a  year.  This  time  the 
purse  had  contained  her  passport,  a  lot  of  foreign  money,  some 
Soviet  money,  and  my  United  States  passport.  When  I  got  home  she 
was  nervous,  and  I  had  to  comfort  her. 

Since  the  United  States  had  not  yet  recognized  Russia,  I  wrote  to 
the  nearest  American  consulate,  the  one  at  Riga,  Latvia,  reported  the 
theft  of  my  document,  and  asked  for  another.  The  answer  was  that 
if  I  presented  myself  in  person  they  would  issue  a  new  passport.  But 
how  could  I  travel  to  Riga  without  a  passport?  Well,  some  friendly 
diplomat  in  Moscow  might  give  me  a  certificate  of  identification. 
While  this  correspondence  proceeded  my  passport  turned  up.  This 
was  not  unusual.  Moscow  had  a  lot  of  skilled  pickpockets  for  whom 
Markoosha  was  no  match.  They  knew  that  the  GPU  would  persist 
in  the  search  for  the  purloiners  of  an  American  journalist's  passport 
but  might  not  be  so  zealous  hunting  down  some  dollars  and  pounds. 
They  accordingly  mailed  the  passport  to  the  GPU  who  forwarded 
it  to  me.  It  was  stained  and  moldy  but  not  seriously  damaged  and  I 
traveled  on  it  to  Palestine,  Egypt,  and  Marseilles. 

From  Marseilles  I  planned  to  go  to  Spain.  Even  in  those  peaceful 
days  the  Spanish  consul  required  the  approval  of  an  American  consul 
before  allowing  an  American  citizen  to  enter  Spain.  This  amounted 
to  a  perfunctory  stamp  always  granted  without  any  questions.  But 
when  I  submitted  my  passport  for  the  stamp  in  the  U.  S.  Consulate 
in  Marseilles,  I  waited  endlessly  in  the  outer  office.  I  complained  to 
the  clerk  but  she  was  no  help.  When  I  began  to  lose  patience  the 
consul  himself  came  out  and  invited  me  into  his  cubbyhole.  How 
was  I  and  how  were  things  in  Palestine?  What  school  had  I  attended 
in  Philadelphia?  When  had  I  been  in  New  York  last?  How  long  had 
I  lived  in  Moscow?  Did  I  know  so-and-so  there  and  how  were  con- 
ditions there?  Expertly  suppressing  a  vast  accumulation  of  anger  I 
finally  asked  what  all  this  had  to  do  with  giving  me  a  free,  routine, 
unimportant,  rubber-stamp  for  Spain.  Then  the  consul  explained. 

252 


MEDITERRANEAN  RUSSIA  253 

They  had  been  informed  when  I  lost  my  passport  several  months 
ago  and  they  wanted  to  make  sure  that  I  was  die  authentic  owner 
of  the  document.  My  hat  was  off  to  the  American  consular  service. 
For  this  meant  that  through  the  Riga  consulate  every  U.  S.  consul 
in  the  world  had  received  a  notification  about  my  lost  passport  and 
a  caution  to  be  on  guard  against  an  imposter. 

I  expected  money  in  Marseilles  from  UEurope  Nouvelle,  a  Paris 
weekly  to  which  I  contributed  regularly.  But  it  did  not  arrive.  I 
phoned  Paris  and  was  told  that  there  had  been  a  regretted  delay  and 
I  could  have  the  remittance  on  Monday.  This  was  Saturday.  I  had 
lived  rather  well  on  the  trip  and  was  now  very  low  in  funds,  and  the 
problem  was  whether  to  wait  in  Marseilles  or  try  to  reach  Madrid  on 
the  few  dollars  I  had  left.  I  decided  to  go  on.  I  lived  that  day  on  two 
orders  of  hot  chocolate  and  buttered  rolls,  and  carried  my  heavy 
luggage  to  the  train  for  Barcelona.  I  arrived  in  Barcelona  in  the 
morning  and  would  leave  that  evening  for  Madrid.  But  there  was  a 
bullfight  in  Barcelona  that  afternoon,  and  I  had  never  seen  one.  I 
saw  it  at  the  expense  of  my  food. 

The  bullfight  was  physically  exciting.  My  teeth  chattered.  When 
I  thought  about  it,  I  did  not  like  it.  But  my  emotion  soon  stopped 
the  thinking, 

I  learned  something 'about  Spaniards  at  the  bullfight  and  I  saw  it 
confirmed  later  in  other  bullfights,  in  politics,  in  Spanish  journalism, 
and  in  the  conduct  of  the  Spanish  War  of  1936-39.  It  matters  a  great 
deal  to  a  Spaniard  how  a  thing  is  done.  Style  and  form  are  terrifically 
important.  If  the  matador  touches  the  bull's  flank  while  escaping  his 
horns  he  elicits  loud  approbation.  If  he  shows  nonchalance  and  rolls 
his  cape  in  graceful  waves  when  the  bull  dives  to  gore  him  the  spec- 
tators like  it.  The  final  kill  must  be  clean,  executed  with  one  straight 
plunge  of  the  word.  A  Spaniard  would  rather  die  than  show  fear. 
A  Spaniard  wants  to  die  beautifully  and  to  live  with  dignity  even 
though  in  poverty.  "Better  to  die  on  your  feet  than  to  live  on  your 
knees,"  Pasionaria's  dictum  during  the  Spanish  War,  was  typically 
Spanish.  Manner  ranks  high  in  Spain's  list  of  virtues.  Sometimes  the 
manner  is  superficial  and  finds  expression  in  a  flourish;  sometimes  it 
is  deep  and  ethical. 

In  Madrid  I  called  on  Luis  Araquistain,  former  Spanish  Ambassador 
to  Germany,  to  whose  monthly  Leviathan  I  had  contributed.  He 
took  me  to  Largo  Caballero,  "the  Spanish  Lenin,"  leader  of  the  trade 
unions  and  the  Spanish  Socialists.  He  also  introduced  me  to  his 


254      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

brother-in-law  and  neighbor,  Julio  Alvarez  del  Vayo,  son  of  a  gen- 
eral, former  Spanish  Ambassador  to  Mexico.  Araquistain  was  the 
right-hand  man  of  Caballero  and  del  Vayo  was  the  left-hand  man,  or 
vice  versa.  Araquistain  had  married  a  Swiss  girl  named  Trudi  Graa. 
Del  Vayo  had  married  her  sister  Luisy.  A  third  Graa  sister  married 
a  Spanish  finance  minister.  Through  their  husbands,  Trudi  and  Luisy 
played  considerable  roles  in  Spanish  affairs.  They  were  handsome, 
blonde,  and  energetic,  and  at  least  as  intelligent  as  their  spouses;  their 
policies  were  the  condensed,  sharpened,  and  indelible  copies  of  their 
husbands'  policies.  During  the  war,  a  bitter  enmity,  based  on  com- 
plicated personal-political  motives,  broke  out  between  Araquistain, 
Loyalist  Ambassador  in  Paris,  and  del  Vayo,  his  superior  as  Loyalist 
Foreign  Minister.  Then  the  two  sisters,  who  loved  one  another 
dearly,  broke  off  relations,  too. 

I  had  one  letter  of  introduction  from  Frederick  Kuh  to  Lester 
Ziffern,  the  Madrid  United  Press  correspondent.  Through  ZifFern  I 
met  the  other  correspondents,  and  through  them  I  met  many  Span- 
iards and  foreigners.  Outstanding  as  a  United  States  diplomat  was 
Claude  G.  Bowers,  United  States  Ambassador.  He  first  ate  half  of 
his  cigar  and  then  lit  and  smoked  what  remained  of  it.  His  shoes 
were  old  and  misshapen.  He  banged  out  his  own  dispatches  to  the 
State  Department  with  two  fingers.  He  was  a  democrat  in  the  finest 
American  tradition,  democratic  in  thought  and  treatment  of  his  fel- 
lows and  in  his  approach  to  international  problems.  Naturally,  there- 
fore, he  sympathized  with  the  Republican  liberals  and  Socialists  but 
loathed  the  aristocratic  Monarchists  with  whom  he  associated.  He 
initiated  me  into  the  intricacies  of  Spanish  domestic  politics  and 
blessed  me  as  I  left  for  a  tour  of  Spanish  villages. 

My  trip  to  the  villages  and  cities  of  Spain  made  me  love  Spain. 
Indeed,  Spain  for  me  was  love  at  first  sight.  It  also  opened  my  eyes 
to  the  penury  of  the  Spanish  people.  I  knew  instinctively  that  this 
country  would  experience  turmoil  and  bloodshed  because  conditions 
were  intolerable. 

"I  am  not  hungry  today.  I  ate  my  cat."  I  thought  he  was  joking. 
But  the  villagers  who  stood  about  nodded  in  confirmation.  A  woman 
of  twenty-seven,  who  had  five  living  children  and  looked  forty-five, 
said,  "Recently  a  horse  fell  dead  on  the  road  and  we  ran  out  and  cut 
strips  of  meat  from  it."  One  peasant  said,  "The  last  time  I  ate  meat 
was  at  the  funeral  of  a  city  friend." 

"And  butter?"  I  asked. 


MEDITERRANEAN  RUSSIA  255 

"We  don't  know  what  it  is,"  the  women  replied.  "Even  the  chil- 
dren never  get  milk." 

I  went  into  at  least  a  dozen  huts  and  looked  for  food  supplies. 

No  family  had  sugar.  In  one  earthen  house  I  found  two  small 
bunches  of  scallions,  four  potatoes,  a  small,  half -filled  bottle  of  vege- 
table oil,  and  nothing  else:  no  bread.  The  authorities  had  distributed 
free  bread  on  the  three  previous  days  but  none  on  this  day,  and  so 
there  was  none. 

Clothes  were  ragged.  Shoes  of  canvas  with  rope  soles.  The  in- 
habitants looked  more  bedraggled  than  in  a  poor  Ukrainian  village. 

I  made  a  note  of  all  the  articles  in  one  mud  hut:  three  wooden 
chairs,  a  wooden  table,  a  few  pots,  spoons  and  plates,  a  pan  for  wash- 
ing clothes,  a  wooden  bed  with  straw  pallets,  and  that  was  all.  In 
other  huts  it  was  the  same. 

This  was  the  village  of  Pueblo  del  Rio,  thirty  minutes  by  direct 
electric  trolley  from  the  much  advertised  tourist  city  of  Seville  in 
Andalusia,  rich  in  land  and  water.  At  first  I  had  not  wanted  to  go 
to  a  village  so  near  a  city.  In  Russia  I  knew  that  a  village  too  near  a 
city  was  not  typical.  And,  in  fact,  the  peasants  of  Pueblo  del  Rio 
told  me  that  the  situation  in  other  villages  was  much  worse. 

The  villagers  I  met  owned  neither  horse  nor  cow  nor  pigs  nor 
poultry  nor  sheep.  They  did  not  even  possess  enough  land  for  truck 
growing.  This  was  the  condition  of  the  great  mass  of  Spanish  peas- 
ants. All  the  soil  of  Pueblo  del  Rio  belonged  to  three  owners.  The 
farmers  worked  about  four  months  each  year.  One  man  told  me  that 
he  had  earned  nothing  for  the  last  six  months. 

This  was  not  a  bad  year.  It  was  a  normal  year.  These  people  and 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  other  Spaniards  lived  in  a  permanent  state 
of  semi-starvation.  Tens  of  thousands  of  Spanish  peasants  inhabited 
caves.  I  could  see  those  caves  as  I  traveled  through  the  countryside 
and  I  could  see  the  children  and  the  adults  near  their  mouths.  Those 
people  subsisted  on  spinach  and  other  grasses.  Whole  districts  were 
known  for  their  underfed  cretins.  This  had  been  going  on  for  dec- 
ades. The  most  distressing  feature  was  not  so  much  that  conditions 
were  horrible  as  that  nothing  was  being  done  to  remedy  them.  I  saw 
poverty  a-plenty  in  the  Soviet  Union.  But  that  poverty,  even  the 
1933  Ukrainian  famine,  was  the  concomitant,  in  part  the  result— sad 
paradox— of  prodigious  effort  to  give  the  country  a  new  .and  per- 
manently healthy  agrarian  base.  In  Spain,  however,  the  poverty  had 
stimulated  no  effort  to  destroy  it. 


256      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

"What  are  you  waiting  for?"  I  asked  at  Pueblo  del  Rio. 

"We  are  waiting  for  death,"  a  middle-aged  peasant  woman  replied. 

"What  has  the  Republic  done  for  you?"  I  asked.    * 

"Damn  the  Republic,"  one  of  them  said.  They  all  wanted  land 
and  the  Republic  had  not  given  it  to  them. 

I  asked  why  they  did  not  seize  the  land.  They  all  had  one  answer 
in  two  words,  "Guardia  Civil."  The  guardias,  middle-aged  militias, 
too  pot-bellied  to  run  but  reactionary  enough  to  shoot  straight  at 
peasants,  deterred  tempestuous  spirits.  Graves  covered  those  who  had 
defied  the  law. 

Later,  in  Madrid,  Ogier  Preteceille,  a  Spanish-Frenchman  who 
worked  as  correspondent  for  a  British  daily,  took  me  to  see  Manuel 
Azafia,  a  moderate  Republican  and  Prime  Minister  of  the  Republic 
from  October,  1931,  to  September,  1933.  We  went  to  his  home  for 
he  was  no  longer  in  office,  and  he  received  us  in  a  darkened  room. 
"Spain's  strong  man,"  they  called  him.  But  I  gathered  the  impression 
of  a  man  with  a  big  head  and  a  soft  well-cushioned  body.  On  the  eve 
of  the  civil  war,  he  was  again  Prime  Minister  and  during  the  war 
he  was  President  of  the  Spanish  Republic.  He  was  the  kind  of  poli- 
tician in  whom  excess  intellectuality  paralyzes  will  power.  Educated 
in  a  famous  Catholic  monastery,  he  became  a  prominent  jurist  and 
literary  figure.  He  wrote  several  plays,  three  novels,  and  an  autobiog- 
raphy of  his  youth  entitled  The  Garden  of  the  Monks,  which  is  still 
one  of  the  gems  of  the  Castilian  language.  He  also  translated  Sorrow's 
The  Bible  m  Spain  into  Spanish.  Subsequently  many  Spaniards  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  limited  himself  to  fiction  and  eschewed  politi- 
cal reality. 

I  asked  him  why  he  had  not  introduced  a  new  land  law  to  change 
conditions  in  the  villages.  He  told  me  he  had  worked  on  the  land- 
reform  law  for  eighteen  months  while  in  office.  And  just  when  he 
had  finished  it  he  was  overthrown. 

I  laughed.  "A  year  and  a  half  to  write  a  law?"  I  exclaimed* 

"Yes,"  he  sighed.  "Social  problems  had  to  wait.  We  were  busy 
fighting  religious  and  political  enemies."  So  Spain's  greatest  problem, 
land,  waited.  The  Socialists,  too,  had  curbed  their  eagerness  for  eco- 
nomic change  in  order  not  to  embarrass  the  Republic,  and  now  the 
reactionaries  were  in  office  again  and  had  wiped  out  all  the  wage 
increases,  all  the  progressive  laws,  and  many  of  the  educational  ad- 
vances of  the  long  Azafia  regime. 

One  very  sunny  Sunday  morning,  Dr.  Juan  Negrin  and  Jay  Allen, 


MEDITERRANEAN  RUSSIA  257 

the  American  correspondent,  took  me  by  taxi  to  the  little  town  of 
Colmenar  Vie  jo,  twenty  miles  from  Madrid.  The  taxi  waited  to  take 
us  back.  Negrin  was  a  member  of  the  Cortes  but  he  had  never  opened 
his  mouth  in  it— partly  out  of  shyness  and  lack  of  confidence,  partly 
from  a  sense  of  the  futility  of  it.  Who  was  he  to  speak  in  the  presence 
of  Indalecio  Prieto,  Calvo  Sotelo,  and  Manuel  Azafia?  Negrin  and  I 
spoke  German  together.  He  had  been  graduated  from  the  University 
of  Leipzig  where  he  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  sympathetic  nerve  system. 
Now  he  taught  medicine  in  the  University  of  Madrid  and  conducted 
a  special  metabolism  laboratory.  He  is  a  native  of  the  Canary  Islands, 
soft  and  fleshy;  he  loves  to  live  and  eat  well,  and  he  frequented  the 
best  Madrid  restaurants. 

We  stopped  at  the  piazza  in  Colmenar  Viejo.  We  had  come  to  see 
the  life  of  workingmen  in  a  small  provincial  city.  Colmenar  has  stone 
quarries.  In  the  piazza  workingmen,  no  women,  stood  around  in 
groups.  Under  broad  sombreros  their  faces  were  pinched  by  hard 
work  and  malnutrition,  and  dried  by  the  sun.  Their  corduroy  suits 
had  been  brushed  for  the  Sabbath.  Trouser  legs  showed  patches  from 
thigh  to  shin.  Elbows  were  similarly  adorned.  They  stood  close  to- 
gether and  talked  little  and  the  predominant  color  was  black. 

Jay  introduced  himself,  then  Negrin,  then  me.  They  complained 
of  low  wages,  but  chiefly  of  unemployment.  Conditions  were  becom- 
ing intolerable.  In  reply  to  a  question  practically  all  of  them  said 
they  were  Socialists.  We  asked  who  their  leader  was.  They  said, 
"Largo  Caballero."  Did  they  know  any  other  Socialist  leaders?  No, 
never  heard  of  any,  and  this  was  twenty  miles  from  the  Cortes  where 
they  all  made  speeches.  Would  they  follow  Caballero  into  a  revolu- 
tion? Yes,  th'ey  would  follow  him  anywhere,  and  the  sooner  the 
better. 

One  man  volunteered  to  show  us  his  house.  We  tramped  down  a 
road  covered  by  inches  of  dust  and  entered  a  cool,  stone  hut,  poorly 
furnished,  almost  empty.  The  worker's  wife  was  stirring  something 
in  a  pot  on  a  low  open  fire.  "Black  lentils,"  she  said.  "This  is  our 
steady  diet.  Black  lentils  and  black  coffee.  No  milk,  no  sugar,  little 
bread.  Can  you  expect  a  mother  to  nurse  a  child  on  such  a  diet?" 
Two  of  her  children  had  died  last  year  of  pneumonia,  she  said.  In 
an  aside  to  me,  Negrin  suggested  it  was  probably  due  to  undernour- 
ishment. A  baby  of  seven  months  lay  in  a  crib  near  the  stove.  She 
said  it  was  sick  with  hernia.  Negrin  opened  the  covers  and  looked 
at  it  and  I  saw  from  his  mobile  face  that  he  gave  it  no  chance.  The 


258      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

woman  said  she  just  did  not  know  what  to  do.  They  were  burdened 
with  mountains  of  debt.  The  grocery  store  gave  her  a  little  food  on 
credit.  Neighbors  helped  but  they  themselves  had  next  to  nothing. 
Her  husband  had  worked  twenty-five  days  in  the  last  six  months. 
The  employers  were  deliberately  refusing  to  operate  the  quarries. 
I  asked  what  they  thought  should  be  done.  The  workingman  de- 
clared the  government  should  force  the  capitalists  to  give  them  work. 
"Anything  else?"  No,  that  was  what  they  all  wanted. 

The  husband  had  not  gone  to  church  for  years.  "The  priests  take 
and  never  give,"  he  said.  His  wife  stopped  attending  mass  after  both 
children  died.  But  she  berated  her  husband  when  he  launched  into  a 
tirade  against  the  church.  Both  spoke  as  from  hollow  chests  and  weak 
bodies.  Their  protests  echoed  undermined  physiques.  "Nothing  hap- 
pens for  years,"  they  said. 

When  we  left,  Negrin  stuck  a  silver  duro  or  five-peseta  piece  into 
the  woman's  hand.  Seventy  cents.  As  we  walked  down  the  road  we 
heard  the  woman  screaming  and  running  towards  us.  The  duro  was 
counterfeit  like  so  many  others  circulating  in  Spain.  Negrin  ex- 
changed the  coin. 

We  dropped  Jay  at  his  home  and  then  Negrin  drove  me  to  my 
hotel.  In  the  taxi  he  said,  "Do  you  think  we  could  get  arms  from  the 
Russians?"  I  said  I  didn't  know  but  he  might  try.  I  felt,  "This  man 


is  serious." 


The  earth  and  the  pavements  throbbed  with  discontent.  The  air 
was  heavy  with  foreboding  and  rumor.  As  I  walked  through  the 
streets  with  Ziffern  he  would  say,  "There  are  machine  guns  on  that 
roof."  Everybody  expected  trouble.  Caballero  told  me  he  had  read 
Lenin  in  French  and  Trotzky's  great  History  of  the  Russian  Revolt 
tion  in  Spanish.  "This,"  I  wrote,  "is  indispensable  preparation,  but 
arms  are  as  important,  and  I  think  the  Spanish  revolutionists  have 
too  few  of  them  and  too  little  money."  It  turned  out  that  they  had 
no  arms  at  all.  The  Monarchists,  however,  had  sent  a  delegation  to 
Mussolini,  and  the  reactionaries  who  failed  in  the  Sanjurjo  revolt  in 
1932,  were  resolved  not  to  lose  next  time. 

I  had  the  impression  that  I  was  in  a  civilized  country.  In  that  vilr 
lage  of  Pueblo  del  Rio  the  peasants  had  something  which  the  peasants 
in  a  Russian  village  lacked.  I  wondered  what  it  was.  The  Spaniards 
begged;  some  of  them  were  illiterate;  they  were  dirty  and  unkempt. 
Yet  the  most  miserable  among  them  bore  himself  with  a  personal 
dignity  and  self-assertion  which  the  Russian  and  Ukrainian  peasant 


MEDITERRANEAN  RUSSIA  259 

did  not  show.  The  Spaniards  seemed  to  stem  from  an  old  culture. 
The  workingmen  in  blue  denim  shirts,  small,  puny  men,  wore  a  proud 
look.  Their  eyes  said,  "I  am  a  man,"  even  though  life  was  treating 
them  like  dogs. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Spaniards  had  mutilated  the  famous  mosque 
at  Cordoba  by  building  a  Catholic  cathedral  over  it  and  into  it. 
Where  did  such  vandalism  come  from?  Spanish  princes  violated  the 
exquisite,  but  somewhat  garish  Alcazar  of  Seville  by  decorating  its 
walls  with  vile  untalented  paintings  and  introducing  vulgar,  ugly 
furniture  into  its  rooms.  The  incomparable  Moorish  Alhambra  at 
Granada  had  been  defiled  by  the  heavy  reforming  hands  of  Isabella 
and  Ferdinand  of  Castille.  Yet  cities  like  Cordoba  and  especially  the 
blue  patios  of  its  well-proportioned  homes  were  filled  with  calm 
dignity.  Was  it  Arab  culture  and  Arab  blood  that  accounted  for 
the  grace  and  the  pride?  In  Granada  I  entered  a  caf6  with  a  woman. 
She  was  the  only  woman  there,  and  all  the  men  eyed  her.  Spanish 
women  enjoyed  civil  rights,  but  custom  decreed  that  they  stay  at 
home.  When  a  Spaniard  courts  a  girl  he  "eats  iron,"  because  he  stands 
on  the  street  with  his  face  in  the  bars  of  -a  window  and  his  beloved 
is  on  the  other  side  in  her  house.  This  too  suggested  Arab  segre- 
gation and  feudalism. 

The  caf 6s  of  Madrid  and  Barcelona  were  packed  with  slim  young 
men  in  tight  suits,  their  hair  slicked  down  with  much  oil  and  their 
faces  insipid,  waiting  to  shout  remarks  at  young  women  who  would 
pass. 

I  felt  an  intuitive  dislike  for  them.  They  were  not  all  bad  and  some 
of  their  kind  I  later  saw  at  the  front  in  the  Loyalist  army.  But  most 
of  them  were  born  in  the  other  camp.  Then  women  came  along  to 
sell  lottery  tickets;  they  represented  another  Spain.  Their  black  hair 
was  drawn  back  tightly  to  a  knot  on  the  backs  of  their  heads  and 
they  wore  black  woolen  shawls  with  fringes.  My  mother  had  always 
worn  such  a  shawl,  only  hers  was  gray.  It  cost  less  than  a  coat.  When 
the  wind  blew  cold  they  wore  it  as  she  had— over  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders and  around  the  chest.  These  Spanish  women's  faces  were  deeply 
lined  and  prematurely  old  from  privation.  They  were  the  Spain  of 
the  fields,  mountains,  and  factories. 

Spain  often  reminded  me  of  Russia.  Like  the  Russia  of  the  Czars 
it  was  a  country  of  extreme  distinctions  of  wealth  and  power.  Those 
who  had  power  were  effete  and  those  enjoying  moral  health  stood 
close  to  the  soil  and  soul  of  the  nation  but  their  stomachs  were  empty. 


260      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  Spaniard  has  a  Slav  indifference  to  time.  With  all  his  solar 
temperament,  the  Spanish  peasant  is  as  docile  and  patient  as  the 
muzhik.  When  the  maid  in  the  Victoria  Hotel  in  Madrid  started 
telling  me  her  life  story  instead  of  making  my  room,  I  harked  back 
to  Moscow's  Savoy.  The  common  people  of  both  Russia  and  Spain 
are  trusting,  simple,  warm,  and  communicative.  They  like  to  stand 
and  move  in  groups.  In  Soviet  Russia  such  groups  melt  into  a  mass. 
In  Spain  each  individual  remains  distinct. 

But  above  all  in  its  social  development  Spain  was  the  Russia  of  the 
Mediterranean.  In  1917  Russia  was  a  backward,  feudal  autocracy 
with  an  established,  corrupt  church.  Eighty  percent  of  Spain's  23,- 
000,000. inhabitants  lived  in  villages  in  1934.  The  Russian  percentage 
was  seventy-five.  Both  countries  had  radical  proletariats,  weak  mid- 
dle classes,  influential  aristocracies,  rotten  monarchies,  weak  armies, 
little  industry,  and  heart-breaking  poverty.  Russia  and  Spain  had  de- 
feated Napoleon  and  successfully  defied  the  French  Revolution.  In 
1917,  Lenin  first  staged  a  French  Revolution— he  destroyed  feudalism 
by  dividing  the  estates  and  banishing  the  aristocrats.  Then  he  pro- 
ceeded to  make  the  Bolshevik  Revolution.  In  1934,  Spain  yearned 
for  a  French  Revolution.  For  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  it  had 
waited  and  its  progress  was  that  much  retarded. 

The  Spanish  Republic  arrived  in  April,  1931.  Its  function  was  to 
bring  the  French  Revolution  to  Spain.  But  when  Azana  tried  the 
reactionaries  stopped  him.  An  outworn  class  had  placed  itself  athwart 
Spain's  current  of  life.  Either  the  class  would  be  smashed  or  there 
would  be  a  flood. 


15.  Free  Lance  at  Large 

Tt  ^T  income  from  work  is  my  means  of  doing  more  work.  In 
\\l\  I935»  I  wanted  to  make  a  round  trip  through  Europe,  for 
JL  Y -L  things  were  evidently  brewing  fast.  I  wrote  The  Nation 
suggesting  a  series  of  ten  articles  at  one  hundred  dollars  apiece.  My 
expenses,  I  assured  them,  would  amount  to  no  less  than  f  1,000,  for 
I  intended  going  from  Moscow  to  Poland,  Germany,  France,  Eng- 
land, Italy,  Switzerland,  Austria,  Czechoslovakia,  ending  up  again  in 
Moscow.  The  Nation  agreed.  It  never  has  much  money  but  always 
manages  somehow  to  scrape  together  as  much  as  it  needs. 

I  stopped  first  in  Berlin  but  found  that  I  could  not  start  the  series 
with  an  article  on  Germany  because  Germany  was  not  quite  the  key 
to  European  events.  I  went  on  to  Geneva.  It  was  not  the  graveyard 
I  expected.  The  League  of  Nations  had  adopted  sanctions  against 
Italy  on  a  signal  from  Great  Britain,  and  Geneva  veterans  were 
somewhat  more  optimistic.  Frederick  Kuh  gave  me  a  reception  in 
the  apartment  of  Wallace  Carroll  to  which  "all  Geneva"  came,  the 
permanent  correspondents  and  many  League  officials.  Of  the  former 
there  were  Robert  Dell,  Manchester  Guardim,  Andrew  Rothstein, 
Tass>  and  Clarence  K.  Streit,  New  York  Times,  author  of  Union 
Now;  of  the  latter,  Dr.  Ludwik  Rajchman,  chief  of  the  League's 
Hygiene  section,  a  Pole  who  had  been  adviser  of  the  Chinese  Na- 
tionalist government,  Mr.  Tirana,  an  Albanian  in  the  League's  eco- 
nomics department,  and  Konni  Zilliachus,  son  of  an  American  mother 
and  a  Finnish  father. 

Zilliachus  was  born  in  Japan,  went  to  elementary  school  in  Sweden, 
secondary  school  in  England,  and  was  graduated  from  Yale  Univer- 
sity. In  die  World  War,  still  a  Russian  subject,  he  volunteered  for 
service  with  the  British  Army  in  Siberia  which  helped  Kolchak.  He 
thereby  became  a  British  citizen.  In  Siberia  he  married  the  daughter 
of  a  Polish  revolutionary  exile.  In  Siberia,  too,  he  learned  to  respect 
the  Bolsheyiks.  He  spoke  the  languages  of  all  the  countries  his  life 
had  touched-except  Finnish-and  in  addition,  French,  German,  Span- 
ish, Danish,  and  some  Turkish.  For  many  years  he  worked  in  the 

261 


262      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

League's  Information  Department.  While  maintaining  the  proper 
neutral  decorum  of  a  League  official  he  wrote  explosively  critical 
pamphlets  about  the  League  and  the  British  Conservative  govern- 
ment's international  policy.  Later  he  resigned  from  the  League's  press 
bureau  to  become  a  left-wing  Parliamentary  Labor  candidate,  an 
editor  of  Sir  Stafford  Cripps's  radical  Tribune,  and,  during  the  second 
World  War,  a  British  censor.  Even  he  was  slightly  less  cynical  about 
the  League  in  1935  than  at  most  times. 

Other  Genevans  hoped  that  the  League  had  discovered  a  prescrip- 
tion for  keeping  alive  by  doing  something.  Of  course,  it  acted  as  a 
fafade  for  British  imperial  interests,  but  if  the  product  was  good 
they  were  willing  to  forget  its  origins.  The  real  question  was  how 
long  Italy  could  hold  out  under  economic  sanctions.  Tirana  and  his 
friends  exhibited  columns  of  figures  on  Italy's  gold,  imports,  exports, 
and  production.  But  even  the  best  statistician  who  can  use  a  logarithm 
to  determine  probabilities  may  be  a  bad  prophet,  and  some  of  them 
knew  better  than  to  project  themselves  perilously  into  the  future. 

Marcel  Rosenberg  was  in  Geneva.  He  had  come  to  the  League  as 
assistant  secretary.  A  hunchback  with  deep  flaming  eyes,  he  had  made 
a  big  impression  in  Paris  as  Counselor  of  the  Soviet  Embassy,  and 
Paris  salons  angled  for  his  visits.  Several  times  he  took  me  along.  It 
was  Rosenberg  on  the  Soviet  side  and  Edouard  Herriot  on  the  French 
side  who  prepared  the  ground  in  France  for  the  Franco-Soviet  mili- 
tary pact.  He  thought  I  knew  Russia.  In  1930  and  1931,  I  argued 
with  him  regularly  against  certain  Soviet  domestic  policies.  He,  good 
Bolshevik,  automatically  defended  them.  When  they  were  discarded 
as  recognized  blunders,  he  took  me  more  into  his  confidence  on 
Soviet  foreign  policy. 

Also,  he  knew  I  knew  how  he  came  to  be  appointed  to  Geneva. 
Stalin's  candidate  as  Soviet  assistant  secretary  in  the  League  of  Na- 
tions (each  major  power  in  the  League  Council  could  designate  a 
member  of  the  secretariat)  was  Gregory  Sokolnikov,  ex-Commissar 
of  Finance,  and  a  man  of  big  caliber.  But  he  was  too  big  for  Litvinov, 
too  big  to  be  Litvinov's  obedient  instrument.  Litvinov,  however, 
could  not  reject  Stalin's  candidate  outright.  He  could  present  his  own 
candidate,  Constantine  Oumansky,  chief  of  the  Foreign  Office  press 
department,  shrewd  and  subservient.  Stalin  said  that  to  send  Ouman- 
sky would  offend  the  League.  He  was  too  young,  and  had  never 
held  a  high  post.  But  by  suggesting  Oumansky  Litvinov  had  indi- 
cated that  it  was  unnecessary  to  send  a  person  of  Sokolnikov's  stature. 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  263 

Moreover,  having  turned  down  Litvinov's  candidate,  Stalin  could 
not  insist  on  his  own.  That  was  another  reason  why  Litvinov  had 
offered  the  name  of  Oumansky.  They  then  agreed  on  Rosenberg, 
who  had  been  Litvinov's  choice  from  the  beginning. 

As  a  Soviet  diplomat,  Rosenberg  had  received  a  salary  of  approxi- 
mately $2,500  a  year.  But  the  League  paid  Rosenberg  $25,000,  a  large 
part  of  which  he  contributed  to  the  treasury  of  the  Communist  party. 
He  had  a  large  villa,  two  limousines,  a  battery  of  secretaries,  and  a 
nice  new  wife,  daughter  of  Emilian  Yaroslavsky,  Soviet  Atheist  No.  i 
and  an  elder  Bolshevik  statesman.  I  sat  with  Rosenberg  for  many 
hours  in  the  evening.  He  too  saw  a  flicker  of  hope  for  the  League 
because  it  was  obstructing  an  aggressor.  Yet  it  was  all  because  Lon- 
don had  so  willed  it,  and  I  decided  to  stop  in  Paris  only  a  few  days 
and  start  my  "Arms  over  Europe"  series  with  a  survey  of  the  British 
situation. 

Britain  was  divided.  The  British  government's  actions  were  con- 
tradictory. It  put  one  foot  forward  and  then  recoiled.  It  apparently 
wanted  to  stop  Mussolini  from  grabbing  Ethiopia.  Sanctions  were 
applied.  But  the  policy  was  half-hearted.  The  British  government 
also  helped  Mussolini  grab  Ethiopia. 

This  dichotomy  was  deepened  by  two  elections,  one  of  which  was 
not  an  election.  It  was  the  Peace  Ballot.  The  British  League  of 
Nations  Association,  led  by  Lord  Robert  Cecil,  had  conducted  a 
voluntary  nation-wide  poll  in  which  11,559,165  adults  enjoying  of- 
ficial franchise  participated.  This  was  more  than  half  the  number  of 
votes  cast  in  national  elections  for  Parliament.  According  to  the 
result  as  announced  on  June  27,  1935,  10,027,608  favored  economic 
and  other  non-military  League  of  Nations  sanctions  against  aggres- 
sors. On  military  sanctions,  6,784,368  voted  in  favor,  2,351,981 
against.  Almost  everybody— over  ten  and  a  half  million  peace  balloters 
—wanted  all-round  reduction  of  armaments. 

The  Peace  Ballot  shook  Prime  Minister  Stanley  Baldwin's  conserva- 
tive cabinet  into  a  pro-League  pose.  Ten  million  votes  for  sanctions 
could  not  be  ignored.  So  die  League  of  Nations  adopted  sanctions 
against  Italy.  Having  done  this,  Baldwin  shrewdly  ordered  national 
elections. 

I  spent  part  of  the  campaign  period  in  London.  I  went  with  Harold 
J.  Laski  to  hear  him  deliver  speeches  for  Labor  candidates.  (Laski 
himself  has  consistently  refused  to  run,  or,  as  the  British  say,  "stand" 


264      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

for  Parliament.)  I  also  accompanied  D.  N.  Pritt,  left-wing  Laborite 
and  famous  lawyer,  and  his  wife— wives  almost  invariably  stump 
with  their  husbands  in  England— George  Russell  Strauss  and  his  wife, 
and  Dorothy  Woodman  on  their  election  campaigns.  Pritt  and  Strauss 
were  elected;  Miss  Woodman  was  defeated. 

The  candidates  could  say  that  the  British  government  was  not 
sincere  about  sanctions.  But  they  could  not  prove  insincerity,  for 
Baldwin  had  actually  forced  sanctions  on  Europe. 

The  Baldwin  government  won  the  general  election  on  November 
14,  1935.  Four  hundred  and  twenty-one  government  supporters  were 
elected  to  Parliament  against  179  of  the  Opposition.  The  popular 
vote,  however,  was  11,570,179  for  the  government,  and  9,930,460 
for  the  Opposition.  It  was  a  close  vote  and  Baldwin's  advocacy  of 
sanctions  made  the  difference  which  spelled  victory. 

Having  won  a  substantial  majority  in  Parliament  on  a  pro-League 
platform,  Stanley  Baldwin  immediately  proceeded  to  carry  out  an 
anti-League  policy.  I  hesitate  to  make  a  charge  of  double-dealing  or 
playing  false  with  the  electorate,  but  the  Conservative  party  had  been 
helped  into  office  in  1924  by  the  forged  "Zinoviev  letter."  In  his 
unfinished  book  on  the  League  of  Nations  which  Robert  Dell  con- 
fided to  me  before  his  death,  he  charges  that  Sir  Samuel  Hoare,  the 
British  Foreign  Minister,  was  only  waiting  for  the  elections  to  sabo- 
tage sanctions  and  that  Laval  said  privately  he  expected  British  policy 
to  change  after  the  elections.  Negley  Parson,  in  The  Nation  of 
November  13,  1935,  undertook  to  defend  British  policy  against 
American  liberal  critics,  yet  he  predicted  "that  the  British  govern- 
ment will  almost  certainly  make  no  peace  dicker  with  Mussolini  until 
after  the  general  elections  in  November."  The  peace  dicker  was  tried 
in  December. 

The  Peace  Ballot  showed  Baldwin  he  would  lose  the  general  elec- 
tion unless  he  paid  lip  service  to  the  League  of  Nations  during  the 
election  campaign.  Sanctions  against  Italy  were  another  "Zinoviev 
letter"  for  the  British  Tories.  Sanctions  enabled  the  Tories  to  win 
the  elections.  Stanley  Baldwin,  speaking  to  the  House  of  Commons 
"with  the  utmost  frankness"  on  November  12,  1936,  practically  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  lied  to  the  electorate  in  1935. 

The  British  government  persuaded  the  League  to  apply  sanctions 
to  Italy  in  October,  1935.  But  when  it  was  found  that  these  sanctions 
were  insufficient  it  did  not  apply  oil  sanctions  which  would  have 
been  decisive.  Nor  did  it  close  the  Suez  Canal.  The  expedient  of 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  265 

closing  the  canal  would  have  saved  Abyssinia  and  collective  security 
and  vindicated  the  League.  The  British  held  Suez.  If  they  were  in 
earnest  about  Abyssinia  how  could  they  allow  Mussolini  to  crush 
Abyssinia  with  men  and  materials  that  went  through  the  canal? 

But  they  failed  to  close  it,  allegedly,  because  the  canal  was  oper- 
ated by  an  international  stock  company  whose  statutes  stipulated 
that  it  must  remain  open  at  all  times,  in  peace  and  war.  Rubbish! 
When  Italy  went  to  war  in  1940,  England  immediately  closed  the 
canal. 

The  British  contended  that  if  they  pressed  Mussolini  too  hard  he 
would  make  war  on  Britain  and  sink  the  Mediterranean  fleet.  This 
meant  that  Baldwin  and  Hoare  were  not  very  serious  about  sanctions. 
They  would  court  some  minor  inconveniences  for  the  sake  of 
Ethiopia,  but  they  would  not  take  risks.  By  not  taking  small  risks 
they  got  themselves  into  bigger  troubles  later.  The  course  of  the 
second  World  War  has  shown  that  it  is  not  so  easy  to  sink  the  British 
fleet  in  the  Mediterranean.  The  chance  of  Mussolini  starting  a  war 
on  the  British  Empire  when  he  had  no  allies  was  very  slight.  Ger- 
many was  anti-Italian  on  account  of  Austria  and  was  not  yet  suf- 
ficiently armed. 

The  British  government's  failure  in  the  Ethiopian  crisis  was  due 
to  a  fear  of  destroying  Mussolini's  regime  and  to  a  lack  of  indignation 
over  the  rape  of  Abyssinia. 

Pro-League  sentiment  in  England  stemmed  chiefly  from  Labor  and 
Liberals,  and  was  accentuated  by  the  rise  of  Hitler  and  Italy's  aggres- 
sion against  Abyssinia.  Labor  and  the  Liberals  were  inherently  anti- 
Fascist.  The  League  of  Nations  for  them  had  become  an  instrument 
to  check  the  spread  and  successes  of  Fascism.  But  the  British  govern- 
ment had  no  such  attitude  towards  the  League  because  it  had  no  such 
attitude  towards  Fascism.  Many  supporters  of  the  Conservative  gov- 
ernment were  pro-Hitler  and  pro-Mussolini. 

On  February  6,  1934,  for  instance,  Sir  John  Simon,  British  Foreign 
Secretary,  told  the  House  of  Commons  that  "Germany's  claim  to 
equality  of  rights  .  .  .  ought  not  to  be  resisted.  There  is  little  likeli- 
hood of  peace  in  the  world  if  you  try  to  put  one  country  or  race 
under  an  inferior  jurisdiction."  For  the  sake  of  peace,  then,  Germany 
had  to  be  allowed  to  rearm.  He  made  the  argument  sound  plausible, 
but  actually  it  was  stupid.  Sir  John  was  saying:  let  Hitler  arm  and 
he  will  keep  the  peace.  Subsequently,  bombs  over  London  wrecked 
Simon's  "logic"  but  not  his  high  position  in  British  public  life. 


266      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

And  there  was  the  Marquess  of  Lothian,  who  had  reacted  favor- 
ably to  Soviet  Russia.  He  went  to  study  Nazi  Germany  and  visited 
Hitler.  When  he  returned  he  wrote  two  articles  in  the  London  Times 
of  January  31,  and  February  i,  1935.  He  too  found  a  sympathetic 
explanation  for  German  rearmament.  "National  Socialism/'  he  de- 
clared, "...  is  a  movement  of  individual  and  national  self-respect." 
That  statement  was  not  calculated  to  strengthen  anti-Fascism  among 
the  typical  Times  readers,  or  in  the  British  nobility.  "The  central  fact 
in  Europe  today,"  asserted  Lord  Lothian,  "is  that  Germany  does  not 
want  war  and  is  prepared  to  renounce  it  absolutely  as  a  method  of 
settling  disputes  with  her  neighbors,  provided  she  is  given  real  equal- 
ity." ("Real  equality"  had  already  been  given  to  Germany  during 
Bruening's  chancellorship.)  But  Hitler  told  Lothian  personally  that 
"Germany  does  not  want  war"  and  Lothian  believed,  and  repeated 
it  to  the  British  public.  Hitler  told  Lothian  many  things.  Lothian 
repeated  them  too.  Hitler  told  him  "finally  and  most  vital,  that  he 
will  .pledge  Germany  not  to  interfere  in  his  beloved  Austria  by 
force." 

Lothian  came  away  fully  convinced  by  Hitler.  "I  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt,"  he  wrote  in  the  Times,  "that  his  [Hitler's]  attitude 
is  perfectly  sincere.  Hitler's  Germany  does  not  want  war.  Hitler 
does  not  want  it  not  because  he  is  a  pacifist,  but  because  he  knows 
what  war  means,  because  he  can  only  carry  out  his  plans  for  training 
and  disciplining  and  uniting  the  young  generation  in  peace." 

Lord  Lothian  therefore  urged  "treating  [Germany]  as  a  friend." 
For  Germany  "is  not  imperialist  in  the  old  sense  of  the  word.  .  .  . 
Its  very  devotion  to  race  precludes  it  from  trying  to  annex  other 
nationalities." 

Bloody  events  have  supplied  the  commentary  on  Lothian's  journal- 
ism. 

British  rearmament  was  an  issue  in  the  November,  1935,  British 
elections.  But  how  could  they  arm  when  they  were  being  disarmed 
by  assurances  of  Hitler's  pacific  intentions?  A  nation  puts  its  money 
and  heart  into  rearming  only  when  it  knows  the  name  of  the  poten- 
tial enemy.  But  Hitler  was  being  pictured  as  a  friend.  He  had  no 
hostile  intentions  against  his  neighbors,  much  less  England.  Perhaps 
he  was  thinking  of  a  trial  of  strength  with  Russia.  That  would  be  all 
to  the  good.  "It  is  an  open  secret  that  Hitler,  while  unconcerned 
about  the  Russia  of  today,  is  deeply  concerned  about  the  Russia  of 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  267 

tomorrow.  .  .  .  What  will  Russia  be  when  it  is  organized,  strong, 
and  equipped  and  Stalin  is  no  longer  there?"  Thus  Lothian  after  his 
talk  with  Hitler.  Hitler  was  facing  east;  England  need  not  worry. 

Granted,  Hitler  is  a  convincing  talker.  But  Lothian  was  no  gullible 
youngster.  Many  democrats,  pacifists,  socialists,  Communists,  and 
liberals  were  instantaneously  anti-Nazi.  They  instinctively  reacted 
against  the  Hitler  dictatorship.  Not  so  Lothian.  He  did  not  admire 
Nazi  methods,  of  course.  But  he  believed  Hitler;  he  wanted  to  be- 
friend Hitler.  The  first  reason  why  the  governments  of  England  and 
France  did  not  resist  Fascist  aggression,  and  why  they  were  not  pre- 
pared for  the  big  war  was  that  they  were  not  anti-Fascist.  They  did 
not  understand  the  nature  of  Fascism.  They  underestimated  Fascism. 
They  were  soothed  by  Hitler's  lullaby  that  he  was  a  "bulwark  against 
Bolshevism." 

The  British,  and  the  French,  accordingly,  continued  to  play  the 
old  balance-of -power  game.  England,  in  November,  1935,  rocked 
merrily  in  numerous  cross-currents.  The  military,  apparently,  favored 
an  alliance  with  France,  and  rumors  told  of  secret  Anglo-French  staff 
talks  about  Germany.  On  the  other  hand,  the  British  government 
took  the  world  by  surprise  in  negotiating  the  Anglo-German  naval 
agreement  of  June,  1935,  which  gave  Hitler  a  green  light  on  naval 
construction  up  to  a  limit.  (When  he  reached  the  limit  he  scrapped 
the  agreement.)  The  French  howled.  They  had  not  even  been  in- 
formed that  this  treaty  was  under  consideration,  and  they  said  quite 
openly— "Pertinax,"  for  instance— that  it  was  aimed  against  France. 

This  move  to  appease  Hitler  was  considered  by  some  a  necessary 
preliminary  to  throwing  down  the  gauge  of  battle  to  Mussolini.  The 
Anglo-German  naval  pact  had  no  sooner  been  signed  than  Anthony 
Eden  rushed  to  Rome  and  told  Mussolini— before  the  invasion  of 
Abyssinia— that  he  could  have  only  a  part  of  Abyssinia.  Herewith 
the  British  government  entered  on  its  course  of  giving  away  what 
did  not  belong  to  it.  Nevertheless,  Eden's  policy  required  resistance 
to  Rome's  maximum  demands. 

The  opposite  school  of  thought  was  represented  in  the  British 
Foreign  Office  by  Sir  Robert  Vansittart,  hard-looking  yet  handsome, 
a  poet,  a  scenario  writer,  and  England's  best  professional  expert  on 
international  politics.  He  saw  Hitler  as  the  greater  menace,  and  hoped 
to  keep  Italy  in  the  British  camp.  If  Mussolini  was  forced  to  fight  for 
the  Abyssinian  desert  three  thousand  miles  away,  he  would  not  be 
able  to  protect  the  green  garden  in  his  backyard— Austria— against 


268      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Hitler.  It  was  Italy's  military  moves  that  had  kept  Hitler  out  of 
Vienna  in  1934.  Vansittart  would  have  been  happier  if  Mussolini  had 
never  ventured  into  the  desert.  But  was  the  desert  worth  the  loss  of 
Italy's  friendship?  Sir  John  Simon,  great  statesman,  went  further, 
and  declared  that  if  Italian  Fascism  were  thwarted  it  might  be  over- 
thrown and  then  Italy  would  go  Communist.  Beginning  with  Karl 
Marx  in  1848  many  people  have  seen  the  non-existent  "specter  of 
Communism.'' 

So  some  said,  appease  Germany  in  order  to  stop  Italy;  and  others 
said,  appease  Italy  in  order  to  check  Germany.  Until  June  10,  1940, 
when  Mussolini  went  to  war  against  Britain  and  France,  high  British 
officials,  including  Lord  Halifax,  Foreign  Secretary,  still  dreamed  of 
appeasing  Italy. 

Small  wonder  that  England's  efforts  on  behalf  of  Abyssinia  and 
the  League  were  half-hearted.  Geneva  had  harbored  sanguine  hopes, 
but  in  London,  my  friends  suspected  that  the  British  government 
would  betray  the  League,  Ethiopia,  and  England's  interests.  Not  all 
Conservatives  were  lukewarm  about  opposing  Italy's  conquest  of 
Abyssinia;  not  all  Laborites  believed  in  the  wisdom  of  sanctions. 
Every  line  demarcating  divisions  of  public  opinion  is  a  zigzag.  But, 
generally  speaking,  the  cleavage  was  perpendicular  and  separated 
Right  from  Left.  The  Left  stretched  from  Conservative  but  dissident 
Lord  Robert  Cecil  to  Harry  Pollitt,  the  secretary  of  the  Communist 
party.  The  Right  consisted  of  reactionaries  called  Liberals  like  Sir 
John  Simon  and  Liberals  writing  for  Conservatives  like  Lord  Lothian. 
The  Left  militantly  demanded  peace  measures  which  their  opponents 
branded  "warlike";  the  Right  championed  "peaceful  compromise," 
which  in  several  years  drove  Great  Britain  to  war. 

London  muddled  along,  but  it  always  gave  me  the  feeling  of  being 
the  center  of  the  earth.  Not  only  was  it  the  hub  of  an  empire  and 
the  focal  point  of  innumerable  news  channels  that  displayed  their 
names  on  Fleet  Street,  the  world's  greatest  newspaper  artery;  it  had 
strength.  England  was  part  of  Europe  yet  not  of  Europe.  It  had 
stakes  everywhere  but  stood  alone  and  proud.  They  tell  the  story  of 
a  headline  in  the  London  Times  which  read,  STORMS  OVER  ENGLAND; 
CONTINENT  ISOLATED.  London  boasted  more  Rolls  Royces  and  slum 
homes  per  square  mile  than  any  town  in  Christendom.  After  the 
theater  the  Strand  filled  with  men  and  women  in  evening  clothes. 
Around  the  corner  were  areas  of  debasing  filth  and  poverty.  Yet 
London  thought  and  changed  money  and  shipped  goods  for  half 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  269 

the  world,  did  it  with  a  quiet  dignity  and  self-assurance.  Respect  for 
tradition  here  was  compounded  of  stodginess,  a  consciousness  .of 
inner  power,  and  obeisance  to  a  successful  past.  Moscow  is  very  old 
and  very  new.  Berlin  is  new.  But  in  London  everything  that  is  new 
seems  old  and  everything  that  is  old  is  very  old.  The  soot  on  its 
buildings,  the  top  hats  on  its  messenger  boys,  the  winding  alleys,  the 
names  of  streets  and  inns  one  knew  from  Dickens  and  Thackeray, 
the  Victorian  and  Georgian  red-brick  houses  where  an  earl  or  an 
admiral  or  a  poet  was  born,  blur  and  bridge  the  centuries.  New  York 
is.  Chicago  will  be.  In  London  you  can  never  forget  what  England 
was. 

The  symbol  of  London  might  be  a  Bobby  or  a  John  Bull  or 
Colonel  Blimp.  A  Prussian  grenadier  could  stand  for  Berlin.  Moscow 
is  a  worker  with  dark  cap  on  his  head  and  hammer  in  two  hands. 
Even  Vienna  in  its  good  days  was  a  man  with  a  feather  in  his  green 
hat,  a  cape  over  his  shoulders,  and  a  gold  chain  across  his  bulging 
vest.  All  these  cities  are  men.  But  Paris  is  a  woman,  a  woman  who 
knows  how  to  choose  her  clothes. 

It  is  not  merely  that  each  building  in  Paris  has  beauty.  Whole 
areas  of  the  city  have  design  and  architecture.  There  is  nothing  on 
the  planet  like  the  cluster  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  at  the  Etoile,  the 
Champs  Elys6es,  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  the  Tuileries  at  eve- 
ning. Parts  of  the  city  are  not  just  tacked  on  to  one  another.  They 
grow  into  and  out  of  one  another.  France  loved  to  live.  The  artists 
of  all  nations  converged  on  Paris,  but  Paris  had  learned,  and  some- 
times taught,  the  greatest  art  of  all,  the  .art  of  living.  That  is  not  why 
it  died— for  a  short  while,  one  hopes.  France  was  not  less  soft,  wine- 
guzzling,  and  smiling  in  1914. 

When  I  went  from  England  to  France  at  the  end  of  1935, 1  wrote 
an  article  on  "The  Tragedy  of  France."  The  German  shadow  was 
dark  on  the  face  of  France.  Winston  Churchill  said  in  October, 
1935,  "Germany  is  already  well  on  her  way  to  becoming  incom- 
parably the  most  heavily  armed  nation  in  the  world  and  the  nation 
most  completely  ready  for  war.  This  is  the  dominant  factor  which 
dwarfs  all  others,  and  is  affecting  the  movement  of  politics  and  diplo- 
macy in  every  country  in  Europe." 

As  I  moved  from  one  country  to  another,  war  was  railroad  talk, 
parlor  talk,  newspaper  talk,  breakfast,  lunch  and  dinner  talk.  A  strong 
country,  well-organized  and  technically  advanced,  with  a  big,  virile, 


270      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

and  able  population  was  concentrating  most  of  its  attention  on  mili- 
tary preparations.  There  were  years  when  a  different  spirit  in  Europe, 
a  different  policy  in  London  and  Paris,  and  happier  circumstances 
within  Germany  might  have  prevented  German  rearmament.  But 
now  it  had  commenced,  and  the  French  had  to  decide  what  to  do 
about  it.  France's  three  choices  were:  to  crush  Germany  immedi- 
ately; to  make  terms  with  the  presumptive  aggressor  before  it  was 
too  late;  or  to  organize  a  defensive  combination  of  powers  against 
him  for  the  future.  France  had  no  stomach  for  an  invasion  of  Ger- 
many. The  desire  in  France  for  a  rapprochement  with  Germany  was 
widespread.  The  Fascists,  the  reactionaries,  the  middle-of-the-road 
politicians  like  Edouard  Daladier,  and  even  many  socialists  advocated 
an  understanding  with  Nazi  Berlin. 

If  Hitler  had  been  willing  there  could  have  been  Franco-German 
friendship  in  1935.  But  the  secret  emissaries  like  Count  de  Brinon 
whom  Pierre  Laval  sent  to  the  Wilhelmstrasse  did  not  always  receive 
a  cordial  reception.  France  had  too  little  to  give  Germany.  A  French 
promise  not  to  attack  was  worthless.  Hitler  knew  France  did  not 
intend  to  attack.  Frence  guarantees  of  Germany's  frontiers  were 
equally  superfluous;  no  one  planned  to  take  territory  from  Germany. 
If  Hitler  hoped  to  get  a  loan  he  would  apply  to  London,  not  Paris. 
The  redistribution  of  colonies  likewise  depended  on  London.  Hit- 
ler's Mein  Kampf  mapped  the  destruction  of  France  after  a  German 
pact  with  Britain.  Hitler  wanted  England's  friendship,  not  France's. 
At  times,  he  gave  the  impression  of  courting  France  when  it  served 
his  diplomatic  purpose.  But  it  was  never  an  important  reality. 

Without  abandoning  hope  of  worming  himself  into  Hitler's  good 
graces,  Laval  therefore  explored  the  third  choice:  a  union  of  powers 
against  Germany.  What  were  the  possibilities  here?  England,  Russia, 
and  Italy.  The  United  States  was  not  to  be  had  for  such  combina- 
tions, and  Japan  was  too  far  away. 

On  May  2,  1935,  Laval  signed  a  treaty  of  mutual  assistance  with 
the  Soviet  government.  On  May  16,  1935,  Czechoslovakk,  France's 
ally,  signed  a  similar  agreement  with  the  .Soviet  government  and  the 
two  documents  were  linked  by  a  clause  which  said  that  Russia  would 
help  an  invaded  Czechoslovakia  only  after  France  marched  to  her 
assistance.  Hitler  screamed  with  anger.  He  was  being  encircled.  On 
numerous  occasions  he  insisted  that  the  Franco-Soviet  pact  be  can- 
celed. He  declared  that  the  existence  of  that  pact  made  amicable 
relations  between  him  and  France  unthinkable.  This  suited  many 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  271 

Frenchmen  who  disliked  the  pact  because,  they  said,  it  helped  French 
Communists  and  the  French  Left  generally.  Nazi  Propaganda  Min- 
ister Goebbels  warned  the  French,  "Whoever  treats  with  Bolshevism 
will  end  by  being  devoured  by  it."  In  Paris  this  was  regarded  as  a 
good  bit  of  friendly  advice.  It  was  always  Hitler's  strategy  to  ob- 
struct friendly  relations  between  the  Western  Powers  and  Russia. 

The  French  government,  however,  did  not  drop  the  pact.  It  merely 
failed  to  invest  it  with  real  content.  The  treaty  presupposed  military 
consultation  and  collaboration  between  Russia  and  France.  The  Rus- 
sians were  willing.  The  French  never  were.  The  treaty  remained  a 
scrap  of  paper.  This  irritated  the  Russians,  but  it  did  not  win  the 
Germans. 

Similarly,  France  irritated  England  without  winning  Italy.  On 
February  3,  1935,  British  and  French  statesmen  met  in  London  with 
an  eagle  eye  cocked  on  Germany  and  agreed  to  work  intimately 
together  for  the  pacification  of  Europe.  In  April,  1935,  England  and 
France  met  with  the  Italians  at  Stresa  and  aft  three  decided  to  deal 
in  concert  as  far  as  Germany  was  concerned.  Italy  feared  German 
encroachment  in  Austria.  Mussolini  was  the  patron  of  Austria.  If 
Hitler  got  Austria  he  would  look  down  on  Italy  from  the  Brenner 
Pass,  and  II  Duce  did  not  want  to  be  haunted  by  those  eyes  and  that 
mustache.  Stresa  seemed  like  the  achievement  of  a  triple  entente. 

All  this  love-making  followed  a  little  friendly  visit  by  Laval  to 
Rome  in  January,  1935.  Laval  then  made  it  clear  to  Mussolini  that 
France  would  not  object  to  Italian  occupation  of  Abyssinia.  Laval 
gave  Italy  2,500  shares  in  the  French  railway  which  runs  from 
Djibuti  to  Addis  Ababa  together  with  two  strips  of  French  territory, 
one  adjoining  East  Eritrea,  the  other  adjoining  Libya.  Laval  likewise 
renounced,  in  writing,  the  French  rights  under  the  Anglo-French- 
Italian  spheres-of-influence  convention  of  December  13,  1906. 

The  Italian  invasion  of  Abyssinia  was  thus  Laval's  baby.  He  knew 
it  was  coming.  He  encouraged  Mussolini  by  concessions.  The  best 
one  can  say  about  Laval's  intentions  is  that  they  were  designed  to 
keep  Italy's  friendship  and  to  keep  Italy  in  the  front  against  Ger- 
many. This  was  mistaken  strategy.  Retreat  in  the  face  of  Fascist 
aggression  encouraged  further  Fascist  aggression.  This  is  not  hind- 
sight; it  was  for  this  reason  that  anti-Fascists  favored  collective  secur- 
ity and  sanctions  against  Italy.  The  Left  foresaw  what  actually  hap- 
pened: a  succession  of  surrenders  to  totalitarian  dictators  ending  in 
a  major  catastrophe.  For  the  aggression  of  the  dictators  was  inspired 


272      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

by  their  disrespect  for  democracy.  There  was  never  a  "March  on 
Rome."  Mussolini  rode  to  Rome  in  a  Pullman  sleeper  and  received 
power  peacefully  from  the  King  and  pusillanimous  Prime  Minister 
Facta.  Italian  democracy  abdicated  and  invited  its  own  destruction. 
Hitler  did  not  fight  for  power  either.  He  was  inducted  into  office 
by  the  officials  of  a  democracy,  inducted  when  his  popularity  was 
declining,  inducted  lest  it  decline  too  far.  Taught  by  these  experi- 
ences at  home  to  hold  democracy  in  contempt,  they  soon  found  that 
foreign  democracies  too  had  no  guts.  Every  evidence  of  democratic 
weakness  in  relation  to  Mussolini  merely  convinced  Hitler  that  he 
also  could  defy  the  democracies  with  impunity.  Laval's  effort  to 
stop  Hitler  by  mollifying  Mussolini  merely  spurred  Hitler  on  to 
emulate  Mussolini.  If  Laval  wished  to  keep  Mussolini's  friendship  he 
should  have  prevented  Italy  from  seizing  Abyssinia. 

Two  basic  ideas  were  in  conflict  in  die  Europe  of  1935,  balance 
of  power  and  collective  efforts  for  peace.  Balance-of -power  jugglery 
inspired  the  inept  steps  of  the  British  to  court  Hitler  and  of  the 
French  to  court  Mussolini.  The  alternative  was  firm  resistance  to 
Fascism  wherever  it  tried  to  extend  its  black  might.  But  to  be  un- 
alterably opposed  to  Fascism  one  had  to  be  anti-Fascist,  and  Laval 
was  not,  nor  was  Sir  Samuel  Hoare,  nor  Stanley  Baldwin. 

Laval,  like  many  Frenchmen,  acted  on  the  assumption  that  Eng- 
land would  have  to  be  pro-French  in  a  crisis  because  it  could  not 
allow  Germany  to  conquer  France  without  endangering  its  own 
existence.  France  thought  she  could  not  lose  England,  but  might  lose 
Italy.  This,  was  more  balance-of-power  psychology.  Events  proved 
that  British  sentiment  against  France  on  account  of  French  disloyalty 
in  the  Abyssinian  affair  helped  to  create  an  atmosphere  in  London 
which  facilitated  Germany's  subsequent  remilitarization  of  the  Rhine- 
land. 

Laval  was  right  in  supposing  that  if  war  came  England  would  have 
to  fight  by  the  side  of  France.  But  until  then  both  France  and  Eng- 
land could  be  seriously  weakened  by  successive  Fascist  encroach- 
ments. 

It  might  be  argued  that  Laval  could  not  have  foreseen  that  Abys- 
sinia would  be  followed  by  further  totalitarian  attacks  on  the  empires 
of  democracy.  This  defense  could  have  been  made  in  1935.  But  the 
Lavals,  Flandins,  and  the  other  French,  and  British,  reactionaries 
continued  to  appease  the  Fascists  when  these  further  totalitarian  at- 
tacks eventuated  in  1936,  1937,  1938,  and  1939. 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  273 

On  that  trip  to  Rome  in  January,  1935,  Laval  began  digging  the 
grave  of  France. 

The  train  from  Paris  moved  quickly  through  Switzerland  and  over 
the  cold,  snow-covered  Alps  into  spring-like  Lombardy.  Vegetation 
was  green  and  the  lakes  blue  despite  the  winter.  I  got  off  at  Milan 
to  see  Italy  before  I  saw  Rome.  I  slept  in  the  Hotel  Cavour. 

I  went  to  the  Milan  Cathedral  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Beautiful 
outside  with,  the  guidebooks  say,  a  thousand  marble  statues  on  the 
small  spires  and  in  the  niches  of  its  walls,  it  is  monumental  and  mov- 
ing within.  Every  time  I  have  come  to  Milan  since  then  I  have 
visited  the  cathedral.  Sunday  mass  is  particularly  impressive.  The 
archbishop  in  an  elevated  loge,  the  priests  and  choir  chanting  and 
circling  on  a  raised  dais  looked  to  me  like  figures  on  a  cloud;  it  was 
a  scene  of  crimson  and  silver  lit  up  by  broad  rays  of  thin  soft  light 
that  contrasted  sharply  with  the  enveloping,  darkness  of  the  dimmed 
churclj.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  such  a  service  fills  many  people  with 
awe.[  A  hard-working  peasant  in  Italy  or  Spain,  leaving  his  plow  and 
lowly  hut  to  enter  his  village  church,  a  giant  edifice  of  granite,  gold, 
and  color  that  towers  above  his  own  life  and  whose  cool  dampness 
and  calm  unworldliness  are  mysteriously  unlike  his  daily  drudgery, 
cannot  but  be  foscinated^r  frightened_by  the  authority  he  does i  not 
understand.  Poor  countries  always  have  dominant  churches,  and 

*,,**,..-,       •    ^.-o<,  >«~-*~.v,  -,»,*-,    ..*.,„, „*,.*?,,    *.•*».«,,*..-.»"•— i    ^v^,..^  ,/fcw,1  ^.-    .^..u.-.x-f  ;  -    ",'v     * 

an  authoritarian  church  may  prepare  the  mind  for  authoritarian  pol- 
itics. Submission  to  dogma,  dicta.torship,  and  the  doctrine  of  infal- 
libiUtv^^^'^^F'fi'om  the  clerical  realm  into  the  temporal.  In 

~     ..      J J*  .,,.—.-.  ,^^~^..*'~^-*^^-**^-^~-'j-i''*rt>-t  --ailft-"— -^*ij»*jr^w'«-*'»w»'l,^1,,         - 

this  sense,  Greek  Catholicism  was  the  precursor  of  Bolshevism  ,and 
Roman  Catholicism  removed  the  psychological  barriers  to  Fascism. 

Milan  was  plastered  with  anti-sanctions  posters  and  Mussolini  pic- 
tures. Mussolini  scowling,  frowning,  pouting,  smiling;  Mussolini  fenc- 
ing, shooting,  swimming,  strutting,  flying,  speaking,  fiddling;  Mus- 
solini on  a  cannon,  on  a  tank,  on  a  horse,  qn  a  balcony;  Mussolini 
bald,  Mussolini  in  Roman  helmet,  in  steel  helmet,  in  flier's  cap;  Mus- 
solini, Mussolini.  That  evening  I  went  to  a  cinema.  In  Rome,  several 
days  later,  I  went  to  a  cinema.  No  applause  for  Mussolini.  A  movie 
is  dark  and  you  can  do  as  you  please.  War  scenes  from  East  Africa. 
No  applause.  Once  one  man  clapped  his  hands.  The  silence  there- 
after was  impressive. 

I  asked  a  Milanese  workingman  who  had  been  in  America  why  he 
was  not  fighting  in  Abyssinia.  He  said,  "Let  others  fight."  I  put  the 


274      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

same  question  to  an  employee  in  the  hotel.  He  said,  "Let  those  fight 
who  have  no  jobs."  He  regarded  the  war  as  a  sort  of  unemployment 
relief  measure. 

I  could  discover  no  enthusiasm  for  the  war  against  Ethiopia,  and 
that  despite  the  propaganda  and  despite  the  real  resentment  against 
the  British  for  imposing  sanctions.  War  posters  were  torn  from  walls 
or  defaced.  I  observed  this  closely,  checked  it  in  various  sections  of 
the  city,  and  made  sure  it  was  not  the  work  of  children.  An  Italian 
nobleman  in  Milan,  whom  I  visited  in  the  dark  of  night  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  British  viscountess,  told  me  that  his  friends  detested 
Mussolini  because  he  had  humiliated  the  King  of  Italy. 

One  of  Italy's  outstanding  aristocrats,  Prince  Filippo  Doria,  was 
arrested  for  his  anti-Fascist  remarks  and  his  disapproval  of  Italy's 
costly  Abyssinian  adventure.  He  was  not  alone  in  disapproving  and 
not  alone  in  the  concentration  camp. 

In  the  super-rapid  electrified  train  to  Rome,  Blackshirt  militia- 
men patrolled  the  corridors,  and  when  one  of  them  approached,  the 
eyes  of  the  Italian  passengers  signaled  a  kind  of  silent  warning,  and 
conversation  stopped  while  faces  froze  into  immobility.  The  land- 
scape was  beautiful,  the  villages  poor,  the  women  invariably  in  black, 
in  mourning,  presumably,  for  their  own  past  and  their  sons'  future. 

All  Rome  is  divided  into  three  parts:  the  servants  of  the  Pope  and 
God  in  black  cassocks  or  brown  robes  and  sandals,  the  civil  servants 
of  the  dictatorship  in  mufti,  and  the  armed  servants  of  the  King  and 
II  Duce  in  gaudy  pale  blue,  black,  and  green  uniforms  with  an  in- 
finite variety  of  headgear  from  tasseled  aviator  caps  to  broad  hats 
topped  by  rooster  plumes. 

Every  footstep  in  Rome  echoes  history.  I  was  torn  between  ancient 
Rome  that  had  made  so  much  history  and  modern  Rome  that  was 
making  so  much  trouble.  The  Colisseum,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
had  fixed  itself  in  my  imagination  as  a  boy,  and  I  paid  it  my  first 
visit.  It  was  even  bigger  than  I  had  expected  it  to  be.  Rome  brought 
back  the  distant  days  when  I  had  studied  Latin.  In  the  arena  of  the 
Colisseum  I  heard  American-college  English,  and  saw  American  col- 
lege boys.  But  instead  of  slacks  and  decorated  slickers  they  wore  long 
black  robes  reaching  down  to  high  laced  shoes.  On  their  heads  were 
flat-crowned,  broad-rimmed  black  felt  priest  hats.  They  asked  me 
about  America.  I  asked  them  about  the  war.  They  wrinkled  their 
noses  to  indicate  its  unpopularity. 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  275 

Through  a  Communist  friend,  I  frequently  met  in  Paris  with  a 
German  Jesuit  preacher,  well-known  as  an  anti-Nazi,  who  had  taken 
up  permanent  residence  in  France.  This  Jesuit  gave  me  an  address 
in  Rome  and  told  me  to  go  there  without  previous  appointment.  He 
gave  me  a  name.  It  was  the  name  of  a  German  Jesuit  professor  who 
spent  several  evenings  a  week  at  the  home  of  Cardinal  Pacelli,  later 
Supreme  Pontiff.  They  had  met  when  Pacelli  was  Papal  Nuncio  in 
Berlin.  The  Catholic  professor  told  me  of  widespread  grumbling 
against  the  war,  and  in  this  he  confirmed  the  testimony  of  Soviet 
Ambassador  Boris  Stein.  On  my  first  visit  the  Jesuit  professor  did 
not  talk  much.  I  understood  his  inhibitions  and  asked  few  ques- 
tions. At  a  subsequent  meeting  he  seemed  very  sad.  Catholic  bishops 
of  Italy  were  presenting  their  gold  crosses  and  rings  to  Mussolini 
for  the  prosecution  of  the  war.  The  German  Father  felt  that  the 
church  should  remain  aloof. 

The  Vatican  did  not  condemn  the  Ethiopian  war.  In  fact,  the 
Pope  indicated  that  there  might  be  just  and  unjust  wars.  The  church 
had  a  stake  in  Abyssinia.  The  Ethiopians  are  Christian,  but  Mono- 
physitic  like  the  Copts  of  Egypt  and  the  Armenians  of  Russia.  The 
Vatican  hoped  to  convert  them  to  Roman  Catholicism.  *)) 

An  American  correspondent  introduced  me  to  Macartney  of  the 
London  Times.  He  took  me  to  Sir  William  MacClure,  the  press  at- 
tache at  the  British  Embassy.  He  handed  me  on  to  Sir  Eric  Drum- 
mond,  the  British  Ambassador.  I  also  saw  Count  Rene  de  Cham- 
brun,  the  French  Ambassador,  proud  of  being  an  American  citizen 
by  virtue  of  his  direct  descent  from  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  and 
Mr.  Breckenridge  Long,  the  United  States  Ambassador.  I  inter- 
viewed all  of  them  again  when  I  returned  in  April,  1936. 

When  I  asked  my  friends  who  among  the  Fascist  leaders  would 
be  interesting  to  talk  to,  several  said,  "Rossoni."  The  Foreign  Office 
press  department  arranged  it  for  me.  Edmondo  Rossoni  was  Minis- 
ter of  Agriculture  and  Forests,  and  a  member  of  the  Grand  Fascist 
Council.  People  estimated  that  he  was  No.  4  or  No.  5  man  in  Italy. 
He  had  worked  as  a  laborer  in  the  United  States  and  France,  and 
spoke  English  and  French,  English  as  the  Italians  spoke  it  in  the 
Washington  Avenue  neighborhood  in  South  Philadelphia  where  my 
family  had  lived  for  several  years.  He  was  short  and  compact,  with 
a  round  strong  head,  sunburnt  face,  black  hair—the  type  one  sees 
stripped  to  the  waist  and  leaning  on  picks  and  shovels  when  the  train 


276      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

passes  over  a  stretch  of  track  that  is  being  repaired.  I  felt  rather  ex- 
cited to  be  interviewing  a  big  Fascist  chief. 

He  started  to  tell  about  his  achievements  as  Minister  of  Agricul- 
ture while  I  kept  trying  to  get  him  to  talk  about  America.  "I  know 
all  about  American  prosperity,"  he  said.  "I  was  an  I.W.W.  I  know 
all  about  it.  I  knew  Bill  Haywood.  He  was  not  a  man.  He  was  a 
big  boy  of  fifty.  He  was  a  guy  with  an  immense  love  of  man,  not 
a  politician.  He  was  an  Italian— same  temperament.  We  got  many 
types  here  like  Big  Bill."  Then  we  moved  to  Abyssinia.  I  took  copious 
notes  on  his  official  stationery.  At  the  end  of  the  interview  he  asked 
me  to  submit  the  text  for  his  approval.  I  did  so  and  he  sent  it  back 
with  corrections  and  with  his  card  initialed  with  an  underlined 
"R."  Looking  now  at  the  notes  and  the  text  and  his  deletions  I  think 
perhaps  that  some  of  the  words  he  crossed  out,  and  which  I  there- 
fore did  not  publish  at  the  time,  were  among  the  most  interesting. 

"We  have  increased  wheat  production  for  the  whole  country,"  he 
had  begun,  "and  also  increased  the  land  under  cultivation."  He 
handed  me  the  appropriate  statistics. 

I  said,  "You  have  a  dictatorship.  Why  don't  you  nationalize  land?" 

"A  dictatorship,"  Rossoni  replied,  "is  a  political  matter,  not  an 
economic  or  social  matter.  We  cannot  take  the  land  away  from 
the  landlords."  The  government  could  only  buy  the  estates  of  those 
who  wished  to  sell  and  then  the  peasants  could  buy  these  lands  with 
federal  loans.  In  this  way,  Rossoni  estimated,  they  could  find  work 
in  the  next  five  years  for  400,000  families. 

But  this  process  was  slow.  Many  landlords  had  grown  fabulously 
rich  by  selling  their  huge  latifundia  at  fancy  prices.  Besides,  the 
peasants  hesitated  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  heavy  debt  pay- 
ments for  twenty  years.  That  is  why  "crowded"  Italy  had  a  great 
deal  of  untilled  land:  the  landlords  did  not  cultivate  it;  the  peasants 
could  not  buy;  the  government  would  not  take  it.  On  December 
7,  1935,  the  Osservatore  Romano,  newspaper  organ  of  the  Vatican, 
reported  a  Rome  congress  of  peasants  who  urged  that  the  estates 
be  divided.  I  therefore  persisted  and  said  to  Rossoni:  "Instead  of 
conquering  Ethiopia  which  you  hope  will  accommodate  surplus 
Italians,  why  don't  you  attempt  to  take  care  of  them  at  home  by 
introducing  a  land  reform?" 

Slightly  irritated,  Rossoni  replied,  "The  Abyssinian  war  perhaps 
has  economic  reasons.  But  chiefly  the  reasons  are  moral  and  political. 
France  did  not  acquire  colonies  because  she  was  overpopulated.  Nor 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  277 

did  England."  He  was  saying  Just  what  I  should  have  wanted  him 
to  say  if  I  could  have  planned  it.  There  was  never  any  truth  in  the 
daim  that  economic  necessity  or  the  need  of  new  lands  for  settle- 
ment, or  even  the  need  of  raw  materials,  compelled  the  so-called 
"Have  Not"  countries  to  expand.  Rossoni  also  had  admitted  that 
Italy  behaved  like  any  other  capitalist  country  in  relation  to  its  rich 
landlords.  The  interview  was  going  fine. 

"Italy  can  make  a  new  contribution  to  civilization,"  Rossoni  con- 
tinued: "Italy  must  carry  civilization  to  the  entire  world."  He  black- 
penciled  that  last  sentence,  perhaps  as  being  too  immodest. 

This  did  not  satisfy  me,  and  I  said,  "You  have  a  dictatorship.  Yopr1 
can  send  people  to  war,  maybe  to  their  death.  Why  can't  you  take 
vacant  land  from  the  estate  owners  and  give  it  to  the  peasants?" 

Signor  Rossoni,  to  my  delight,  was  now  thoroughly  aroused  and 
replied  with  equal  candor,  "That  is  demagogy.  Peasants  must  be 
directed.  'Give  land  to  the  peasants.'  That  is  a  phrase.  There  must 
be  organization.  We  are  Fascists,  not  socialists." 

Then  what  was  the  Fascist  economic  program?  He  replied,  "Cor- 
porations." Italy  was  a  corporative  state.  I  did  not  know  what  that 
meant.  "The  Italian  corporations,"  he  explained,  "unite  capitalists, 
technicians,  and  workers.  The  technicians  must  organize  and  direct 
industry.  The  technicians  must  not  be  the  slaves  of  the  capitalists. 
[He  later  changed  "slaves"  to  "instruments."]  They  must  guide  the 
workers.  The  technician  is  the  bridge  between  worker  and  em- 
ployer. [I  recalled  the  American  technocrats.]  The  worker  himself 
has  no  executive  ability.  If  he  is  talented  he  soon  lifts  himself  up  to 
the  capitalist  level.  I  know  socialist  leaders  who,  when  they  recog- 
nized their  own  abilities,  passed  over  to  the  capitalist  side.  [I  won- 
dered whether  this  was  a  dig  at  Mussolini,  ex-socialist.]  Workers 
must  be  well-organized  and  not  free  to  be  crazy.  A  strike  is  an  act 
of  folly.  I  am  not  bourgeois.  I  am  a  worker.  [He  crossed  that  out 
although  he  had  said  it.]  Mussolini  was  a  worker.  [He  crossed  that 
out.]  We  are  anti-bourgeois." 

I  asked  him  whether  Italy  would  not  take  Abyssinia  and  then  ask 
for  more  territory.  He  replied,  "It  would  be  foolish  to  hypothecate 
the  future." 

Then  Rossoni  dictated  a  speech  to  me.  "Some  people  think  the 
world  stands  still.  The  dynamics  of  history  is  a  big  thing.  I  believe 
in  imperialism.  But  the  imperialism  of  the  future  will  be  different.  It 


278      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

will  be  moral,  and  represent  the  domination  of  able  peoples  over 
the  world.  It  will  not  be  materialistic  as  British  imperialism  is  to- 
day." He  added,  "We  do  not  want  war.  The  war  we  want  is  work. 
Mussolini  said  that. 

"I  think  democracy  is  working  for  war,"  Rossoni  affirmed  em- 
phatically. "Not  Japan,  not  Germany,  not  Italy.  Democracy." 

We  talked  about  democracy  and  the  social  system.  "Ah,  the  bal- 
lot is  not  interesting,"  he  said.  "Cannon  is  interesting.  We  are  not 
anti-^capitalist.  We  are  anti-capitalism.  We  change  the  name  of 
capitalist  to  factory-Fuehrer  just  as  the  Nazis  have  done.  Money  is 
merely  opinion.  Gold  is  not  indispensable." 

He  asked  me  many  questions  about  Soviet  Russia,  and  then  ex- 
pressed his  own  view.  "The  Bolsheviks  are  no  longer  revolution- 
aries because  they  are  in  accord  with  the  western  democracies.  They 
are  lost." 

At  the  end  of  more  than  an  hour,  I  rose  to  go.  He  shook  my  hand 
warmly  and  said,  "Don't  you  find  us  quiet  despite  the  war?" 

I  said,  "Quiet  but  worried." 

He  said,  "No,  united  and  eager  to  work."  And  he  pointed  to  large 
oil  paintings  of  farm  scenes  that  covered  the  walls  of  his  spacious 
office.  He  asked  me  to  come  back,  and  I  did  that  same  week  for  an- 
other hour,  and  I  talked  with  him  again  at  length  in  April,  1936. 

It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  ask  Mussolini  for  an  inter- 
view. There  was  no  use  inviting  a  refusal.  But  several  journalistic 
colleagues  said  to  me?  "Have  you  seen  Mussolini?",  and  when  I  said 
no  they  urged  me  to  apply.  Several  friends  in  the  American,  Brit- 
ish, Soviet,  and  French  embassies  put  the  same  question  to  me  and 
gave  the  same  advice.  They  said  he  was  very  much  interested  in 
Soviet  Russia  and  had  copied  from  the  Bolsheviks.  Towards  the  end 
of  my  stay,  therefore,  on  December  10,  1935,  I  wrote  this  letter: 

To  His  Excellency, 
Signor  Benito  Mussolini, 
Chief  of  the  Italian  State. 

DEAR  SIR, 

I  would  like  to  talk  to  you  about  the  international  situation,  and  you 
will  decide  whether  it  will  be  an  interview,  or  a  conversation  which  is 
not  for  publication. 

I  am  an  American  journalist  and  have  spent  the  last  fourteen  years  in 
Europe,  mostly  in  Russia,  Germany  and  England.  I  have  written  a  num- 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  279 

her  of  books,  one  of  them  a  two-volume  history  of  Soviet  foreign  policy 
which  has  been  translated  into  French. 

Now  I  am  writing  a  series  of  articles  on  the  situation  in  Europe.  I  have 
come  here  after  a  fortnight  in  England  and  a  fortnight  in  France.  Those 
two  stays  have  supplied  the  material  for  my  first  two  articles  which  I  have 
shown  to  Signor  Macia. 

I  am,  and  have  been  for  thirteen  years,  the  correspondent  of  the  New 
York  Nation  which  is  liberal  and  anti-Fascist.  I  too  am  anti-Fascist.  But 
I  am  completely  cynical  about  England's  attitude  and  about  the  position 
taken  by  the  League  of  Nations.  I  will  state  the  Italian  case  fairly. 

Since  the  plan  of  my  series  requires  me  to  leave  Rome  by  Sunday,  I 
take  the  liberty  of  urging  you  to  give  me  your  reply  very  soon.  I  hope 
very  much  that  the  reply  will  be  in  the  affirmative. 

Very  respectfully  and  sincerely, 

Louis  FISCHER. 

A  reply  came  the  same  day.  It  came  from  a  secretary  who  spoke 
for  Mussolini  and  wrote,  "Much  to  His  regret,  the  Chief  of  the 
Government,  will  be  unable,  between  now  and  Sunday,  to  grant  you 
an  interview.  I  am  sorry  not  to  have  been  able  to  arrange  this  and 
hope  it  may  be  possible  on  some  other  occasion." 

That  day  Mussolini  had  received  the  Hoare-Laval  proposal,  and 
I  was  not  surprised  that  he  should  not  have  wanted  to  see  me  in 
the  next  four  days.  But  the  rejection  almost  contained  a  promise. 
(When  I  returned  in  April,  I  tried  to  collect  the  interview  but  the 
same  secretary  said  he  had  read  the  articles  on  Italy  which  I  had 
published  in  the  meantime.) 

Sir  Samuel  Hoare  and  Premier  Laval  proposed  to  give  Mussolini 
part  of  Abyssinia.  The  proposal  had  been  drafted  secretly  and  sent 
secretly  to  Mussolini  Then  England  was  not  serious?  It  was  ready 
to  compromise.  But  the  proposal  leaked  out  because  it  had  enemies 
inside  die  British  government.  A  revolt  of  British  public  opinion, 
unprecedented  demonstration  of  virile  democracy,  rose  to  such 
heights  that  Prime  Minister  Baldwin  had  to  scuttle  either  himself  or 
Hoare.  He  chose  Hoare.  Then  England  was  serious?  Mussolini  could 
not  quite  tell.  Meanwhile  the  British  prayed  for  early  rains  in  Abysr 
sinia,  but  when  the  Abyssinians  asked  Britain  for  arms  they  got  none. 
Italy  poured  its  wealth  and  men  into  the  mountainous  wildernesses 
of  East  Africa  in  return  for  which  the  Fascist  papers  promised  gold, 
platinum,  coffee,  cotton,  jobs,  copper— in  fact,  Abyssinia  was  a  mar- 
velous treasure  house.  (A  stay  in  Italy  in  November,  1939,  convinced 


280      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

me  that  Abyssinia  had  given  Italy  a  few  bananas  and  a  lot  of  head- 
aches but  nothing  else.) 

From  Italy  I  moved,  via  Venice  and  thrilling  Austrian  mountain 
scenery,  to  Vienna.  The  Rome-Berlin  axis  had  not  yet  been  forged, 
but  the  forge  was  being  built.  The  fire  that  beat  plowshares  into 
swords  also  shaped  the  axis. 

A  free  Austria  was  the  peg  of  European  peace.  Austria  dammed 
the  Nazi  flood.  If  Austria  fell,  Nazism  would  pour  over  southeastern 
Europe.. But  Austria  itself  was  Fascist.  Its  trade  unions,  parliament, 
free  press,  and  free  elections  had  disappeared.  Mussolini  safeguarded 
it  against  Hitler.  Yet  Mussolini  had  destroyed  its  inner  democratic 
defenses  against  Hitler. 

I  made  a  beeline  from  the  railway  station  to  the  home  of  M.  W. 
Fodor,  Chicago  Daily  News  correspondent.  He  knew  everything 
and  everybody.  When  he  was  not  at  home  one  could  be  sure  to  find 
him  at  the  same  table  every  morning  at  eleven  in  the  Imperial  Caf6. 
I  likewise  spent  profitable  and  pleasant  hours  with  George  Mes- 
sersmith,  American  Minister,  whom  I  had  first  met  when  he  was 
Consul  General  in  Berlin.  Messersmith  never  disguised  his  revulsion 
against  Fascism  and  wrote  long  letters  to  his  chiefs  in  Washington 
warning  of  dangers  which  so  many  Europeans  in  high  democratic 
places  watched  with  treacherous  equanimity.  G.  E.  R.  Gedye,  bril- 
liant pent-up  Englishman  with  the  Hungarian  name  who  worked 
for  the  New  York  Times,  also  led  me  through  the  maze  of  Austrian 
politics  as  did  little  Scheu  of  the  London  Daily  Herald,  and  others. 

Most  observers  agreed  that  the  Schuschnigg  government  enjoyed 
the  support  of  as  much  as  three  percent  of  the  population.  One- 
third  of  all  Austrians  were  socialist  or  Communist,  chiefly  the  for- 
mer, one-third  were  Christian  socialists,  chiefly  Catholic,  and  thirty 
percent  were  Nazi.  The  infinitesimal  remainder  constituted  the  pop- 
ular backing  of  the  regime  which  was  authoritarian  but  had  no  au- 
thority. The  government,  however,  did  not  bother  about  votes.  It 
had  no  intention  of  calling  elections  and  it  sat  on  the  bayonets  of 
Prince  Starhemberg's  Heimwehr  while  Mussolini  scowled  protec- 
tively. 

Mussolini  protected  Austria  and  ruined  it.  In  February,  1934,  the 
Austrian  government  turned  cannon  on  the  beautiful  modern  apart- 
ment-house settlements  of  the  Socialist  party  in  Vienna.  Morreale, 
Mussolini's  agent  in  Vienna,  inspired  that  attack.  The  Socialists  were 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  281 

crushed  and  driven  underground.  In  July-,  the  Nazis  made  a  bid  for 
power.  They  assumed  that  the  crushing  of  the  Socialists  paved  the 
way  for  them.  Mussolini  was  alarmed.  The  Nazis  almost  succeeded. 
Diminutive  Chancellor  Dollfuss  was  killed.  (Hitler  later  honored  the 
murderers.)  Mussolini  expected  the  Reichswehr  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  Hitler's  Austrian  puppets.  He  mobilized  the  Italian 
army.  That  stayed  the  Nazis'  hand.  Mussolini  spoke  Hitler's  lan- 
guage, the  only  language  Hitler  understands,  the  language  of  force. 
But  Hitler  merely  bided  his  time.  When  his  time  came,  on  March  13, 
1938,  Chancellor  Schuschnigg  hastily  distributed  arms  among  the 
workers  of  Vienna.  Schuschnigg  realized  that  the  workers  were  his 
natural  friends,  the  natural  bulwarks  against  Fascism.  But  it  was  too 
late.  He  had  killed  their  spirit  and  their  organizations,  and  banished 
their  leaders.  He  could  not  repair  in  a  morning  the  damage  of  four 
foolish  years. 

The  Czech  government  understood.  They  knew  their  turn  would 
follow  Austria's  and  they  tried  to  buttress  Austria's  domestic  de- 
fenses by  keeping  in  touch  with  the  Austrian  socialist  movement. 
I  learned  that  in  this  way:  I  wished  to  see  Otto  Bauer,  the  gifted 
theoretician  and  leader  of  the  Austrian  Socialists  who  had  been  forced 
to  emigrate.  I  asked  correspondents  where  he  might  be  found  but 
they  did  not  know.  I  asked  everybody  I  met,  and  had  no  success 
until  I  asked  Schrom,  the  secretary  of  the  Czech  Legation  whom  I 
had  known  in  Moscow  where  he  worked  as  a  journalist.  He  took 
out  a  little  date-book  from  his  vest  pocket  and  gave  me  Bauer's  ad- 
dress and  telephone  number  in  Bruenn,  and  his  wink  told  me— as 
did  his  words  subsequently— that  Prague  was  not  neglecting  the  best 
prop  Austrian  independence  could  have  had.  But  the  Czechs  alone 
could  not  save  Austria  from  the  Austrian  government,  Mussolini, 
and  Hitler.  Only  a  democratic  Austria  had  a  chance  of  survival.  But 
the  Fascist  Mussolini  did  not  want  a  democratic  Austria.  So  he  killed 
Austrian  democracy,  and  thus  killed  Austria  and  thus  killed  his  own 
independence  and  became  Hitler's  tool. 

The  Austrians  are  supposed  to  be  a  gentle,  "gemuedich"  people 
and  many  of  them  are.  But  no  generalization  about  a  nation  is  cor- 
rect. The  shelling  of  the  Viennese  tenements  was  an  extremely  brutal 
act,  without  parallel  in  history.  Muenichreiter,  a  Viennese  Socialist, 
was  wounded  seriously  in  the  arm  and  head  during  the  fighting. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  sentenced  to  death.  They  carried  him,  uncon- 
scious, to  the  gallows  on  a  stretcher,  and  they  put  the  noose  around 


282      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

his  neck  while  he  still  lay  on  the  stretcher.  An  eyewitness  described 
the  scene  in  the  Prager  Mittag  of  February  17,  1934.  It  was  one  of 
many  gruesome  executions  in  the  Vienna  of  waltzes. 

Czechoslovakia  was  among  the  few  civilized  countries  of  Europe, 
and  if  Neville  Chamberlain  did  not  know  where  it  was  that  was 
his  loss.  Lying  between  the  Teutonic  and  Slav  areas  of  the  conti- 
nent, it  was  a  nation  whose  people  had  the  efficiency  of  the  Ger- 
man without  his  hardness,  harshness,  and  submissiveness,  and  the 
peasant  warmth,  dreaminess,  and  spiritual  health  of  the  Russian  with- 
out his  uncouthness,  cruelty,  and  backwardness.  Prague  was  paved 
with  culture.  It  was  the  one  European  city  where  I  went  on  a  rub- 
berneck tour;  the  sights  revealed  the  living  past  of  the  nation. 

In  the  Hradjhin,  the  medieval  castle  which  seemed  to  be  con- 
structed of  superimposed  layers  of  the  country's  history,  I  inter- 
viewed Eduard  Benes,  President  of  Czechoslovakia,  successor  and 
intimate  co-worker  of  Thomas  Masaryk,  the  Republic's  founder.  He 
was  of  Europe's  first  minds,  a  skilled  diplomat,  writer,  international- 
ist. His  country's  fate,  to  be  sure,  depended  on  internationalism  and 
on  the  fruition  of  the  idea  on  which  the  League  of  Nations  should 
have  been  founded.  But  that  was  also  true  of  France  and  England. 
Benes  was  an  internationalist  because  he  was  a  good  Czech.  Laval 
and  Baldwin  too  would  have  served  their  nations  best  by  serving 
Europe  first.  Benes  made  the  mistake  of  assuming  that  Europe  was 
ruled  by  Beneses.  Too  expert  to  be  naive,  he  nevertheless  trusted 
the  good  intentions  of  men  who  looked  like  gentlemen.  He  trusted 
in  the  articles  of  international  treaties.  And  he  expected  the  speeches 
he  heard  and  the  speeches  he  made  to  produce  a  situation  which 
would  justify  his  incorrigible  optimism.  Very  late  in  the  short  sunny 
day  of  his  country's  freedom  he  went  to  Moscow  where  I  first  met 
him.  He  nursed  a  real  cultural  and  political  entente  between  Moscow 
and  Prague.  It  was  hampered  by  domestic  reactionaries  who  feared 
the  ascendancy  of  the  left.  It  was  hampered  by  Hitler  who  declared 
that  the  Bolsheviks  were  upon  him.  Benes  told  me  in  Christmas  week, 
1935,  that  he  would  gladly  negotiate  with  Hitler  but  Hitler  had 
rebuffed  every  initiative.  Later,  in  Berlin,  Mastny,  the  Czech  Min- 
ister, and  Camille  Hoffman,  his  press  aide,  gave  me  concrete  details 
on  Germany's  disinclination  to  settle  potential  disputes  amicably. 

BeneS  dreamed  of  a  modified  Danubian  federation,  and  curbed  his 
liberal  hatred  of  Mussolini  in  the  hope  that  Italy  would  again  save 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  283 

Austria,  which  also  meant  saving  Czechoslovakia,  from  Germany. 
Czechoslovakia's  future  thus  hung  on  Rome's  attitude  to  Germany. 
If  the  two  Fascist  states  took  the  same  road,  Czechoslovakia  was 
doomed.  But  Rome's  attitude  to  Germany  would  reflect  its  relations 
with  England  and  France,  and  those  depended  on  the  outcome  of 
the  Abyssinian  conflict.  Prague's  eye  was  glued  on  distant  Addis 
Ababa.  Though  his  whole  world  rested  on  the  frail  reef  of  Geneva, 
Benes  therefore  had  his  doubts  about  sanctions,  and  would  have  been 
pleased  to  see  the  success  of  some  patchwork  of  peace  like  the  Hoare- 
Laval  vivisection  of  Abyssinia.  He  needed  Italy.  Yet  if  the  League 
failed  in  Abyssinia  it  would  be  weaker  in  Europe,  and  the  European 
status  quo  would  be  endangered,  and  Czechoslovakia  was  part  of  it. 
That  was  the  dilemma  of  the  Slav  statesman  of  Prague.  The  answer 
would  have  been  an  aggressive  peace  policy  by  England  and  France, 
but  even  Benes  could  not  hope  for  that.  He  knew  that  France  had 
sabotaged  sanctions.  He  had  no  guarantee  that  after  balking  Musso- 
lini in  East  Africa,  England  would  be  ready  to  check  Hitler  in  Cen- 
tral Europe.  Indeed,  what  he  heard  from  Jan  Masaryk,  his  Minister 
in  London,  must  have  made  him  uncomfortably  suspicious  of  Eng- 
land's pro-German  orientation. 

The  beginning  of  aggression  was  the  end  of  Czechoslovakia.  The 
attack  on  Haile  Selassie  sent  Benes  into  exile  and  Europe  into  war. 
A  shot  fired  at  Sarajevo  brings  Wisconsin  farmers  to  Archangel  and 
the  Marne.  Frontiers  and  oceans  disappear  for  war.  Internationalism 
bursts  into  full  flower  when  the  cannons  roar.  In  peacetime  it  van- 
ishes. When  it  vanishes  in  peacetime  there  is  sure  to  be  a  wartime  in 
which  it  can  reassert  itself. 

A  non-stop  express  train  took  me  from  Prague  to  Berlin— 280  miles 
—in  eight  hours.  As  I  entered  the  lobby  of  the  Hotel  Adlon,  the 
porter  yelled,  "Ach,  Herr  Fischer,  Moscow  is  calling  you,"  and  I 
talked  with  Markoosha  over  the  telephone.  In  view  of  Hitler's  well- 
known  views  on  Moscow  at  the  time,  this  was  not  a  very  auspicious 
beginning  for  a  stay  in  Nazi  Germany,  But  I  never  kept  my  opinions 
or  connections  a  secret  in  Berlin,  and  called  and  visited  the  Soviet 
Embassy  as  often  as  I  wished.  It  is  better  not  to  seek  to  avoid  detec- 
tion in  a  dictatorship,  and  I  had  nothing  to  hide  anyway.  If  sleuths 
shadowed  and  spied  upon  me,  I  was  not  aware  of  it.  I  always  left 
my  suitcase  open  to  ease  the  task  of  any  inquisitive  Gestapo  agent, 


284      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

and  if  I  had  personal  mail  which  I  did  not  want  copied  for  the  dos- 
sier, I  kept  it  in  my  jacket  pocket. 

I  requested  an  interview  with  Ribbentrop  and  he  sent  a  titled  lieu- 
tenant to  look  me  over  and  report  on  my  Aryanism  or  lack  of  it,  I 
presume.  His  relative  Dieckhoff,  later  Nazi  Ambassador  in  Wash- 
ington, was  apparently  not  so  allergic  and  consented  to  talk  to  me 
in  the  Wilhelmstrasse.  He  said  Germany  wanted  a  plebiscite  in  Aus- 
tria on  the  question  of  "Anschluss."  Hitler  was  ready  to  sign  peace 
treaties  and  non-aggression  pacts  with  everybody  except  Lithuania 
and  Russia.  When  I  asked  Dieckhoff  whether  that  might  not  lead 
to  war  with  Russia,  he  said,  "Jawohl."  Nazis  were  always  ready  to 
reinforce  the  impression  of  their  "anti-Communism." 

I  arrived  in  Berlin  fourteen  years  almost  to  a  day  after  I  had  first 
seen  it,  in  December,  1921,  from  a  department-store  truck.  I  had 
been  in  Germany  every  year  since  1921,  sometimes  for  several 
months  at  a  time,  sometimes  less.  I  had  never  known  it  so  pessimis- 
tic, not  even  in  the  worst  years  of  inflation  when  the  suffering  was 
greater.  Germans  of  all  classes  fought  for  their  pessimism  and  insisted 
that  any  optimism  achieved  by  an  effort  of  will  would  vanish  at 
the  first  touch  with  today's  reality.  They  were  sad  and  they  were 
resigned.  They  had  been  called  on  to  make  sacrifices  which  were 
only  beginning.  They  were  shouldering  the  heavy  burden  of  peace- 
time rearmament  in  order  that  they  might  carry  the  heavier  burden 
of  war. 

When  will  the  war  come,  every  German  asked.  "Germany,"  I 
wrote  in  The  Nation  of  March  11,  1936,  "must  wait  until  the  new 
millions  are  molded  into  soldiers  fit  for  long  and  trying  battles.  When 
will  that  be?  Some  specialists  say  1937,  most  say  1938,  some  say 
1939.  The  Reichswehr  today  probably  numbers  800,000  comman- 
ders and  men.  In  1939,  it  will  count  one  million  men  under  arms 
and  two  and  a  half  million  freshly  drilled  reserves.  This  is  about  the 
right  amount  of  cannon  fodder  for  a  beginning." 

One  would  have  thought,  in  view  of  Germany's  obvious  prepara- 
tions to  go  to  war  in  1939  or  before,  that  the  democracies  also  would 
m^ke  preparations.  Instead,  they  talked  peace  and  friendship  with 
Hider,  and  jogged  along  at  an  amiable,  old-man  peace  pace. 

Germany  had  begun  to  resemble  an  armed  camp.  I  noticed  an 
increase  in  the  number  of  Reichswehr  cars  and  uniforms  since  my 
last  visit.  The  army  trucks  were  painted  with  camouflage.  That  was 
part  of  the  practical  business  of  getting  ready  for  war.  But  it  was 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  285 

also  part  of  "the  psychological  preparation  which  goes  on  with  unre- 
lenting intensity  every  hour  of  the  day  in  the  press,  radio  and 
schools."  There  was  no  secret  about  it.  If  I  knew  it,  foreign  gov- 
ernments knew  it  or  should  have  known  it.  Conscription  had  been 
introduced  on  March  16,  1935. 

But  foreign  observers  who  wished  to  be  deluded  overlooked  Ger- 
many's military  measures  and  quoted  Hitler's  pacifist  speeches.  He 
delivered  one  such  on  May  17,  1933.  "No  new  European  war,"  he 
declared  truly,  "could  create  conditions  better  than  the  unsatisfac- 
tory conditions  of  today.  .  .  .  Germany  is  always  ready  to  assume 
further  security  obligations  of  an  international  character.  .  .  .  Ger- 
many would  be  prepared  to  abolish  its  entire  military  establish- 


ments." 


Why  did  Hitler  utter  these  palpable  lies?  Because  in  April,  1933, 
Pilsudski,  frightened  by  the  rise  of  Hitler,  occupied  the  Wester- 
platte,  a  small  peninsula  in  the  Danzig  harbor,  and  wanted  to  invade 
Germany.  Pilsudski  asked  France  and  England  to  co-operate.  On 
May  1 6,  1933,  President  Hindenburg  wrote  to  his  State  Secretary 
Meissner,  "These  days  you  can  of  course  get  into  touch  with  me 
at  any  time  of  the  day  or  night."  (Normally,  the  old  man  could  not 
be  disturbed  from  his  sleep.)  The  day  after  this  note  was  written, 
Hitler  made  his  pacifist  speech.  He  wanted  to  call  off  Poland.  Yet  it 
was  quoted  as  an  earnest  of  good  Nazi  intentions.  The  Western 
Powers  were  impressed  by  Hitler's  speech,  and  vetoed  Pilsudski's  pre- 
ventive war. 

Hitler  made  another  much-quoted  pacifist  speech  on  May  21, 
1935.  It  had  two  motifs:  friendship  for  England  and  hatred  of  the 
Soviets.  Three  weeks  later  England  signed  the  Anglo-German  Naval 
Agreement.  Hitler  was  bidding  for  it  in  his  speech.  A  day  after  this 
speech,  which  contained  fierce,  unbridled  attacks  on  Bolshevism, 
Hjalmar  Schacht  went  to  the  Soviet  Embassy  and  offered  the  Soviet 
government  an  official  German  credit  of  one  billion  marks.  That  is 
the  way  the  Nazis  conducted  their  foreign  policy. 

Meanwhile,  Hitler  told  the  powers  how  to  behave  when  he  went 
to  war  or  when  he  took  something  without  going  to  war.  He  dis- 
liked any  "international  network  of  intersecting  obligations"— in 
other  words,  collective  security.  Instead,  if  two  nations  fight,  "the 
other  nations  withdraw  at  once  from  both  sides  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  conflict  rather  than  allow  themselves  to  be  involved  in  this 
conflict  from  the  outset  by  treaty  obligations."  For  example:  Ger- 


286      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

many  attacks  Czechoslovakia.  All  nations  stand  aside.  No  nation 
helps  Germany,  no  nation  helps  Czechoslovakia.  Hitler  threatens 
Austria.  "All  other  nations  withdraw  at  once  from  both  sides."  Neu- 
trality. It  is  fantastic  that  Hitler  should  have  the  effrontery  and  gall 
to  suggest  a  procedure  which  so  obviously  would  make  German 
conquest  so  easy.  But  it  is  much  more  fantastic  that  the  Western 
Powers  later  adopted  just  that  procedure.  "To  face  an  adversary  in 
detail,"  writes  General  Douglas  MacArthur,  U.  S.  Army  Chief  of 
Staff  from  1930  to  1935,  "has  been  the  prayer  of  every  conqueror 
in  history."  Hitler  advertised  that  this  was  his  dream,  too.  He  wanted 
to  divide  his  victims  and  smite  them  individually.  He  said  he  would 
do  it.  They  let  him  do  it. 

Through  Miss  Martha  Dodd,  daughter  of  U.  S.  Ambassador  Dodd, 
I  met  Armand  Berar,  a  secretary  at  the  French  Embassy  in  Berlin, 
and  he  took  me  for  an  interview  with  his  Ambassador,  M.  Fran§ois- 
Poncet.  He  had  had  an  audience  recently  with  Hitler.  The  Fuehrer 
devoted  most  of  his  time  to  attacks  on  the  Soviet  Union.  On  De- 
cember 13,  1935,  Sir  Eric  Phipps,  the  British  Ambassador,  had  had 
a  three-hour  session  with  Hitler.  Hitler  devoted  most  of  that  long 
period  to  a  raving  diatribe  against  Bolshevism.  They  wrote  home  to 
Paris  and  London,  and  Paris  and  London  were  reassured.  "Hitler 
means  no  harm  in  the  West,"  they  whispered.  They  did  not  want 
to  see  that  East  and  West  should  unite.  Hitler's  purpose  was  to  sepa- 
rate them.  He  succeeded. 

Conversations  in  embassies  were  conducted  as  far  as  possible  from 
a  telephone,  and  even  then  a  pillow  was  usually  pressed  over  the 
telephone.  The  assumption  was  that  the  Gestapo  had  so  wired  the 
telephones  that  its  dictaphones  functioned  even  when  the  receiver 
was  on  the  hook. 

I  had  always  been  very  much  attached  to  Berlin  and  to  Germany. 
I  loved  the  language  and  I  respected  the  nation's  scientific  and  cul- 
tural achievements.  I  hated  to  hate  Germany.  I  walked  down  a  street 
with  Boris  Smolar,  correspondent  of  the  Jewish  Telegraphic 
Agency.  Two  tall  S.S.  men  passed  in  black  uniform,  marching  in 
step.  I  asked  Smolar  whether  he  hated  them.  He  said  yes.  I  didn't. 
Smolar  had  felt  the  cruelty  of  the  Gestapo.  He  had  been  perse- 
cuted and  arrested,  even  though  he  was  an  American  citizen  legiti- 
mately reporting  for  American  publications.  Only  the  persistence 
and  courage  of  United  States  Consul  Raymond  H.  Geist  saved  him 
from  long  detention  and  a  horrible  fate.  Yet  I  too  knew  enough  of 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  287 

the  tortures  in  Gestapo  cellars,  the  brutality  of  its  concentration 
camps,  and  the  cynicism  of  its  murders.  Even  after  years  of  Nazism, 
however,  I  still  liked  Germans  too  much  to  place  the  blame  on  indi- 
vidual Germans.  Populations  cannot  be  held  responsible  for  the 
crimes  of  their  governments  although  they  have  to  vote  for  and  serve 
those  governments. 

I  stopped  and  talked  to  a  man  selling  toy  balloons  on  a  street  cor- 
ner. He  greeted  prospective  customers  with  a  resounding  "Heil  Hit- 
ler" and  wore  a  Swastika  in  his  buttonhole.  But  he  was  bitterly  op- 
posed to  the  Nazi  regime  and  complained  to  me  about  its  depriva- 
tions and  war  preparations. 

Many  Communists  and  Socialists  had  entered  the  S.  A.  Brownshirts 
for  protective  coloration.  A  Communist  told  me  he  had  joined  the 
S.S.  in  order  to  enter  the  university.  An  S.A.  man  I  met  in  a  pri- 
vate German  home  told  me  he  had  recently  started  studying  Marx. 
I  have  known  many  Communists  who  became  anti-Communists  and 
I  doubt  that  Hitler's  following  must  always  remain  loyal.  A  few  fun- 
damental loyalties  are  unalterable,  but  political  attitudes  are  not. 

Berlin  friends  told  a  story  of  a  visit  to  a  factory  by  Hermann 
Goering.  He  gathered  the  workingmen  around  him  and  said  he 
wanted  to  speak  with  them  heart-to-heart.  They  could  be  candid. 
Nothing  would  happen  to  them.  He  turned  to  a  gray-haired  me- 
chanic and  said,  "Tell  me,  how  do  you  stand  politically?" 

"I,"  replied  the  old  fellow,  "I  have  been  a  Communist  for  years." 

"Are  you  still  a  Communist?" 

"Yes." 

"How  many  Communists  work  in  this  plant?"  Goering  inquired. 

"Oh,"  several  men  volunteered,  "only  about  thirty  percent  of  the 
force." 

"What  are  the  rest?"  Goering  asked,  hopefully. 

"About  fifty  percent  of  the  total  are  Social  Democrats,"  he  was 
told. 

"And  the  remaining  twenty  percent?"  Goering  pressed. 

"They  are  Catholic  trade  unionists." 

"But  then  where  are  the  Nazis?"  Goering  insisted. 

"Ach,"  came  the  reply,  "we  are  all  Nazis."  Protective  coloration 
warded  off  "protective  custody." 

Hitler  has  millions  of  supporters  in  Germany  but  also  millions 
of  enemies  who  vote  "Ja"  at  every  election  out  of  fear.  I  saw  and 
heard  enough  anti-Nazis  in  Germany  to  feel  certain  that  great  masses 


288      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

of  Protestants,  Jews,  Catholics,  pacifists,  democrats,  socialists,  and 
Communists  continue  to  abhor  the  Nazis,  When  Hitler  gains  Nor- 
wegian territory  or  French  territory  he  wins  some  Germans  at 
home.  Success  helps  every  government.  But  when  the  drums  stop 
beating,  the  people  take  stock  and  wonder  who  is  paying  for  all  this 
and  what  vengeance  the  future  has  in  store  for  them.  Above  all,  I 
found  many  Germans  who  were  ashamed  of  their  country,  ashamed 
because  Germans  were  torturing  Jews,  ashamed  because  Germany 
was  reviled  abroad,  ashamed  because  German  science  was  cut  off 
from  the  main  world-currents  of  invention  and  research.  Goebbels' 
propaganda  dissipates  some  of  this  sentiment,  but  Germans  are 
ashamed  of  Goebbels  too. 

I  asked  for  an  all-wool  sweater  at  Gruenfeld's  department  store. 
The  salesgirl  asked,  "Don't  you  know 'there  is  nothing  all-wool  in 
this  country?"  I  asked  a  salesman  in  a  bookshop  on  Unter  den  Lin- 
den for  some  good  political  literature.  He  said,  "Good?"  I  com- 
plained to  a  waiter  at  Kempinski's  on  Kurfuerstendamm  that  a  bad 
egg  seemed  to  have  gone  into  the  ice  cream.  He  said,  "No,  sir,  that 
is  impossible.  It  couldn't  have  been  a  bad  egg.  We  use  only  egg 
powder."  All  of  them  and  so  many  others  took  special  delight  in 
making  statements  that  were  correct  but  derogatory  to  the  gov- 
ernment. A  taxi  driver  complained  that  business  was  bad  because 
night  life  had  disappeared.  "The  Nazis  who  go  out  at  night  have 
their  private  cars,"  he  sneered.  I  asked  a  waiter  at  the  Bristol  Hotel 
how  they  had  made  out  New  Year's  night.  He  said,  "Not  so  bad." 
I  said  the  guests  must  have  been  mostly  foreigners.  He  replied,  "No, 
foreigners  can  scarcely  afford  our  prices.  They  were  mostly  Nazi 
officials." 

There  was  plenty  of  opposition  to  the  Nazis.  I  believe  it  has  not 
died.  But  it  was  and  is  impotent.  Its  effectiveness  has  always  been 
exaggerated.  Revolutionary  and  subversive  movements  are  powerless 
in  a  dictatorship  which  does  not  hesitate  to  arrest  and  shoot  suspects. 

People  are  not  convinced— they  merely  conform— when  their 
friends  are  carried  off  to  jail  in  the  night.  By  the  end  of  1935,  Ger- 
many had  had  three  years  of  Hitler  and  not  a  single  economic  prob- 
lem solved.  The  problems  are  still  unsolved.  "Guns  instead  of  but- 
ter." They  gave  their  health  for  the  guns,  then  they  would  give 
their  lives  with  the  guns.  The  Nazis  had  succeeded  in  turning  Ger- 
many into  a  prison  camp  which  they  were  succeeding  in  preparing 
for  war.  That  was  the  sum  of  Nazi  progress.  Nazism  did  not  trans- 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  289 

form  all  Germans,  nor  most  Germans,  into  Nazis.  The  nation  sul- 
lenly watched  as  the  dynamic  gangsters  tried  to  run  the  show.  The 
enjoyment  of  democratic  privileges  sometimes  breeds  Fascists.  The 
joys  of  dictatorship  could  easily  breed  democrats.  When  French 
democracy  collapsed,  many  French  Fascists  dropped  their  demo- 
cratic masks.  There  are  many  Fascist  masks  in  Germany. 

In  Warsaw  in  January,  1936,  I  had  several  long  conversations 
with  U.  S.  Ambassador  John  Cudahy.  In  1924,  in  Warsaw,  I  called 
on  the  American  Minister,  John  W.  Stetson  (of  the  Philadelphia 
hat  firm).  In  1931, 1  talked  in  Warsaw  with  U.  S.  Ambassador  John 
N.  Willys  (of  the  automobile  interests).  He  was  followed  by  Cud- 
ahy of  the  meat-packing  family,  and  he  in  turn  by  Anthony  J.  Drexel 
Biddle  (of  the  Philadelphia  banking  house)  whose  home  and  fur- 
nishings were  smashed  by  Nazi  bombs.  I  have  never  met  Biddle,  but 
of  the  rest  only  Cudahy  understood  what  it  was  all  about. 

Cudahy  was  a  member  of  the  United  States  expeditionary  force 
to  North  Russia  in  1918,  and  there  he  had  observed  the  behavior  of 
American  soldiers  fighting  the  Bolsheviks.  He  wrote  an  anonymous 
book  criticizing  the  American  expedition  and  I  believe  his  memory 
took  him  back  to  those  years  when  he  compared  American  army 
men  with  the  Nazi  troopers  in  Belgium  in  1940. 

Cudahy  likes  to  hunt.  He  told  me  of  an  adventure  while  hunting 
in  Soviet  Russia.  Through  the  American  Embassy  in  Moscow,  he 
had  arranged  to  go  to  the  forests  of  Central  Russia  to  hunt  bear.  The 
GPU  prepared  him  a  bear  for  the  slaughter,  but  the  GPU's  dogs 
were  overzealous  and  drove  the  bear  away,  and  Cudahy  returned 
empty-handed. 

In  Poland,  Cudahy  hunted  with  Polish  aristocrats  on  the  huge 
estates  of  East  Poland,  and  he  knew  their  psychology.  Through  his 
excellent  connections  he  was  well-informed,  and  information  di- 
gested by  a  high  intelligence  made  him  one  of  the  best  American 
diplomats  in  Europe.  He  disliked  Polish  Foreign  Minister  Beck  and 
entertained  doubts  on  the  wisdom  of  Polish  foreign  policy.  He  told 
me  of  the  intimate  relations  between  Poland  and  Nazi  Germany  as 
he  observed  them  in  the  manors  of  Polish  nobles  where  Prussian 
Junkers  came  to  hunt  and  Nazi  officials  to  intrigue. 

Cudahy  also  saw  the  base  poverty  of  the  Polish  peasants  who 
could  not  but  contrast  their  dismal  existences  with  the  opulence  of 
the  fortunately  born.  While  Cudahy  hunted  with  titled  snobs  he  did 


290      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

not  forget  the  miserable  millions.  He  told  me  that  many  peasants 
looked  across  with  envy  into  Soviet  Russia  where  collectivization  had 
improved  fanning  conditions. 

Poland's  economic  plight  was  appalling.  Its  rotten  condition 
showed  in  these  figures:  540,000  employed  workingmen,  330,000 
unemployed  workingmen,  330,000  government  officials,  271,510 
soldiers. 

Finance  Minister  Kwiatkovsky  on  December  5,  1935,  announced 
in  the  Sejm— Poland's  parliament— that  Polish  peasants  with  twenty- 
five  acres  of  land  spent  on  the  average  of  eight  dollars  a  year.  (In 
1929,  they  had  spent  $22.40  a  year.)  But  they  were  millionaires 
compared  to  the  peasants  who  held  only  ten  to  twelve  acres  and 
who  constituted  thirty-one  percent  of  the  population,  and  another 
thirty-four  percent  who  owned  even  smaller  "dwarf  households." 
He  said,  "Ten  million  persons  stand  completely  outside  the  realm 
of  economic  life."  They  neither  bought  nor  sold.  Jews,  Poles,  and 
Ukrainians  who  received  three  dollars  a  month  from  American  rela- 
tives could  become  businessmen  on  that  money. 

The  peasants  were  reacting  violently  against  their  poverty.  In  May, 
1935,  a  serious  insurrection  in  the  province  of  Volhynia  had  to  be 
suppressed  by  the  army.  Likewise,  a  revolt  in  Central  Poland  in 
December,  1935.  Peasant  disturbances  were  a  chronic  disease.  Anti- 
Semitism  spread.  Bombs  were  thrown  into  synagogues,  Jewish  houses 
burned,  Jews  beaten  and  killed.  The  government  did  not  suppress 
such  atrocities,  perhaps  because  it  did  not  try  too  hard. 

Pilsudski  was  dead  and  the  Poles  felt  his  absence.  Marshal  Ridz- 
Smigly  now  wore  Pilsudski's  mantle  but  it  was  too  big  for  him. 
Poland's  second  great  man  was  Foreign  Minister  Joseph  Beck.  He 
received  me  in  the  ministry,  and  before  he  had  talked  five  minutes 
I  thought  of  an  eel.  It  was  impossible  to  pin  him  down,  and  when 
I  believed  he  was  pinned  down  to  one  point  he  had  evaded  my 
question  and'  delivered  a  disquisition  on  an  abstraction.  I  knew  I 
would  never  know  what  he  had  said  when  he  got  through,  and 
I  therefore  stood  up  and  reached  for  a  sheet  of  paper  in  a  little  sta- 
tionery container  on  his  desk.  He  stood  up  too,  reached  the  paper 
before  I  did,  took  out  a  folded  sheet,  tore  it  in  two  at  the  fold,  and 
gave  me  the  half  that  did  not  have  the  imprint  of  the  ministry  on 
it.  When  I  had  covered  that  paper  I  rose  again,  he  rose  again,  and 
repeated  the  performance.  Beck  had  been  a  Polish  intelligence  officer 
in  Paris  and  the  French  decided  to  deport  him  because  he  had  al- 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  291 . 

legedly  stolen  military  documents.  He  looked  on  others,  apparently, 
as  others  had  looked  on  him. 

(In  1938,  I  entered  Cordell  Hull's  office  to  keep  an  appointment 
with  the  Secretary  of  State.  Mr.  Hull's  secretary  came  out  into  the 
waiting  room  and  told  me  I  would  have  to  wait  a  few  moments. 
Since  I  had  just  seen  George  Messersmith  in  the  Department  and 
wanted  to  make  notes  on  our  conversation  I  asked  the  secretary  for 
some  paper  and  he  said,  "Here,  take  this,'*  and  he  gave  me  a  pad 
which  I  had  seen  before  on  the  table.  It  was  Mr.  Hull's  stationery 
with  the  imprint:  Department  of  State— THE  SECRETARY.) 

Having  squeezed  much  water  and  circumlocution  out  of  my  Beck 
interview  notes,  I  find  this,  "Pilsudski  said,  'Always  have  a  fluid  pol- 
icy.' ,  .  .  Don't  build  a  roof  when  you  haven't  got  the  walls.  .  .  . 
The  world  is  tired.  No  nation  has  temperament.  Fortunately,  no 
nation  has  temperament  ...  I  believe  in  realities.  We  have  no 
desire  to  attack  Russia.  No  attack  on  Russia  can  be  made  without 
us.  ...  People  formerly  exaggerated  the  German-Polish  problem. 
It  is  impossible  to  concentrate  all  of  Europe's  difficulties  into  the 
realm  of  German-Polish  relations.  [This  was  a  hostile  reference  to 
France's  attempt  to  keep  Poland  out  of  the  German  orbit.]  .  .  .  Eu- 
rope is  accustomed  to  minimize  the  power  of  Poland.  This  will  now 
change.  ...  I  am  sure  that  when  the  present  atmosphere  clears 
Franco-Polish  relations  will  improve.  .  .  .  War  is  always  possible 
but  the  world  is  tired  and  too  preoccupied  with  domestic  problems. 
The  world  is  too  optimistic.  It  thought  its  problems  could  be  solved 
at  Geneva.  But  the  League  was  never  all-inclusive.  ...  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  a  crisis  in  Europe.  There  is  too  much  nervousness— Poland 
will  not  join  the  Soviet-French  bloc." 

In  plain  English:  Beck  proposed  to  cultivate  Germany,  ignore  the 
League  of  Nations  and  collective  security,  and  pay  Up  service  to 
good  relations  with  Paris  and  Moscow.  Having  spoken  with  him, 
with  Finance  Minister  Kwiatkovsky,  with  General  Burhart-Bu- 
kachki,  Inspector  General  of  the  Polish  army,  with  Colonel  Matu- 
shevski,  editor  of  Gazetta  Polska,  a  government  organ,  and  member 
of  the  "Colonels  Group"  that  Pilsudski  had  reared,  with  American 
businessmen,  Soviet  Ambassador  Davtyan,  Jewish  merchants,  Polish 
journalists,  German  Jews  writing  for  Nazi  dailies  in  Germany,  For- 
eign Office  officials,  and  many  others,  I  checked  my  impressions  with 
Cudahy  and  Colonel  Albert  Gilmor,  the  American  military  attache. 


292      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

(Whether  it  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  Philip  R.  Faymonville  in  Mos- 
cow, or  Lieutenant-Colonel  John  Magruder  who  explained  the  Abys- 
sinian war  to  me  at  Geneva,  or  Colonel  E.  R.  Warner  McCabe  who 
did  the  same  at  Rome,  or  Major  Truman  Smith  in  Hitler  Germany, 
or  Colonel  Stephen  O.  Fuqua  who  followed  the  Spanish  War  with 
the  zeal  of  a  young  man,  I  have  always  found  that  United  States 
military  attaches  are  keen,  able  observers  who  do  a  better  job  than 
many  of  our  ambassadors—  perhaps  because  they  know  maps  and 
weigh  realities  while  eschewing  the  diplomatic  racket.)  Then  I  wrote 
in  The  Nation  of  March  18,  1936:  the  Poles  believe  that  "if  Ger- 
many goes  to  war,  enough  nations  will  remain  aloof  to  enable  Ger- 
many to  win.  Poland's  benevolent  neutrality  might  then  be  hand- 
somely rewarded.  .  .  .  For  selfish  considerations  Poland  would 
hardly  welcome  a  German  attack  on  the  Soviet  Union.  .  -  .  Poland 
would  undoubtedly  prefer  German  expansion  in  the  direction  of 
Austria  and  Czechoslovakia.  The  Poles  would  presumably  receive 
Teschen  and  the  Hungarians  Slovakia;  thus  a  common  Polish-Hun- 
garian frontier  would  be  created." 

With  some  changes—  Germany  did  not  go  to  war  but  broke  up 
Czechoslovakia  without  one,  and  Hungary  got  the  Carpatho-Russ 
instead  of  Slovakia—  this  was  a  description  of  the  Munich  episode 
in  September,  1938,  and  its  aftermath.  Poland  won  its  common  fron- 
tier with  Hungary,  although  why  anybody  should  have  wanted  it  is 
beyond  me.  It  is  obvious  from  what  I  wrote  then  that  die  Poles  jtn- 
,  tijaij^ed^^  anticipated  it 

^a^^jnotibHig  ;jco  gr^enp^it,  and  prepared  the  way,  by  conduct 
that*was  pleasing  to  the  Nazis,  to  benefit  from  r  it.  Poland's  foreign 
policy  reflected  Beck  character,  pure  opportunism. 


Poland's  historY;.JToland,"  I  said,  "must  decide  whether  it  stands 
with  the  violent  revisionists  or  with  those  who  want  collective  se- 
curity." If  war  came,  Poland  "might  easily  be  the  battlefield  .  .  . 
and  be  ruined. 

"Poland,  in  my  opinion,  is  playing  a  doubtful  diplomatic  game 
based  on  the  idea  that  since  war  is  inevitable  it  might  as  well  get 
something  out  of  it."  Ultimately,  it  got  a  fourth  partition,  and  death, 
destruction,  and  cruel  suffering  for  the  good  farmers  and  working- 
folk  who  never  had  seen  Beck  or  Ridz-Smigly  or  the  hunting  lodges 
of  Volhynia.  The  Jews,  street-car  conductors,  and  little  storekeepers 
of  Warsaw  were  better  Poles  and  better  men  than  Ridz-Smigly. 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  293 

I  bought  a  hand  of  bananas  in  Warsaw  for  my  boys  in  Moscow. 
They  were  not  sold  in  Russia  and  do  not  grow  there.  At  the  Soviet 
border,  the  customs  guard  who  had  never  seen  such  objects,  said 
to  me,  "Are  these  made  or  do  they  grow?" 

I  bought  postage  stamps  in  every  country  and  in  the  post  office 
on  the  roof  of  the  Vatican  for  my  son  George,  aged  eleven.  Having 
returned  home,  I  had  to  tell  both  boys  what  I  had  seen  in  Europe. 
There  was  no  use  saying,  "It's  too  complicated  for  you  to  under- 
stand." Markoosha  had  once  said  that  to  Victor,  George's  junior 
by  exactly  365  days,  when  he  asked  her  the  meaning  of  a  political 
cartoon  in  Izvestia,  and  he  replied,  "With  simple  enough  language 
you  can  explain  anything  you  really  understand."  (He  is  that  kind. 
I  once  scolded  him  in  Russian  for  a  misdeed.  He  listened  intently 
and  when  I  was  finished  he  pointed  out  a  grammatical  mistake  I  had 
made.)  . 

We  went  to  the  big  wall  map  on  which  the  boys  had  followed  my 
trip,  and  I  outlined  the  relations  between  various  states.  They  were 
born  in  Berlin  and  had  gone  to  school  in  Czechoslovakia,  and  that 
facilitated  my  task.  They  put  peculiar  questions. 

"Isn't  England  stronger  than  Italy?"  George  asked.  When  I  as- 
sented he  wanted  to  know  why  England  could  not  stop  Italy. 

I  told  him  about  divisions  within  a  democratic  country  which 
were  not  possible  under  a  dictatorship.  "Then  isn't  dictatorship  bet- 
ter?" he  pursued. 

"But  the  dictatorships  in  Japan  and  Italy  have  made  wars  because 
they  don't  have  to  consult  their  people,  and  Hitler  will  go  to  war 
too,"  I  elucidated. 

"Why  can't  the  peace  people  in  all  countries  get  together?"  Vitya 
asked.  I  tried  to  cope  with  that.  . 

"I  think  the  Fascists  will  attack  the  Soviet  Union,"  George  an- 
nounced and  returned  to  his  stamp  collection.  He  had  been  taught 
that  in  his  Moscow  school. 

I  went  to  see  Karl  Radek,  the  best  Soviet  publicist.  I  noticed  he 
spoke  of  Stalin  as  "starik."  Theretofore  he  and  everybody  else  on 
the  inside  or  close  to  the  inside  had  referred  to  him  as  "Khozayin," 
the  boss.  Now  with  instructed  spontaneity  he  had  become  "the  old 
man,"  which  was  softer  and  more  affectionate. 

Radek  told  me  that  he  was  seeing  Stalin  regularly.  I  asked  whether 
Stalin  read  Hitler's  speeches  in  full,  as  well  as  the  speeches  of  other 


294      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

statesmen.  He  said,  "Of  course,  we  supply  him  with  translations  of 
everything."  Radek's  words  about  Stalin  were  most  rapturous,  too 
rapturous  for  good  taste  in  private  conversation. 

Radek  believed  Russia  would  be  attacked.  I  expressed  doubt.  He 
said,  "You  have  always  doubted  it." 

"So  far  I've  been  right." 

"It's  the  one  rime  you'll  be  wrong  that  counts." 

"I've  read  Lenin  and  remember  him  despite  Bolshevik  propaganda 
today.  Lenin  always  emphasized  the  contradictions  among  the  capi- 
talist powers.  The  capitalists  are  more  likely  to  cut  one  another's 
throats  than  yours." 

He  disagreed. 

I  made  the  rounds  of  Soviet  and  foreign  diplomats  in  Moscow.  I 
have  never  tried  to  be  diplomatic  with  diplomats.  They  are  too 
adept.  A  non-conventional  approach  is  more  likely  to  break  down 
their  reserve.  With  my  friend  Frederick  Kuh  I  went  to  see  the 
Turkish  Ambassador  in  London  in  October,  1939.  An  important 
Anglo-Turkish  treaty  of  military  co-operation  was  about  to  be 
signed,  but  Tewfik  Rushdi  Aras  told  us  he  knew  nothing  about 
it.  "The  negotiations  are  being  conducted  in  Ankara,"  he  said.  I  in- 
terrupted this  well-worn  twaddle  by  saying,  "Surely,  Mr.  Ambassa- 
dor, your  government  would  not  insult  you  by  keeping  you  ignorant 
of  such  crucial  talks  with  the  government  to  which  you  are  accred- 
ited." Kuh  nudged  me  delicately  with  his  elbow,  but  Rushdi,  some- 
what taken  aback  by  this  unceremonious  sally,  could  not  admit  that 
his  chiefs  kept  him  in  the  dark,  and  he  revealed  some  of  the  salient 
facts  of  the  treaty.  If  one  is  devious,  indirect,  and  shrewd  the  diplo- 
mat will  outmaneuver  you  and  send  you  home  with  sweet  nothings. 
I  either  refrain  from  mentioning  certain  subjects  necessarily  sur- 
rounded by  secrecy  or  I  differ  and  argue  with  a  diplomat  as  I  would 
with  a  friend. 

On  September  9,  1932,  I  spent  three  hours  at  the  Japanese  Em- 
bassy in  Moscow,  half  the  time  with  Ambassador  Koki  Hirota  (Prime 
Minister  of  Japan  from  March,  1936  to  February,  1937)  and  the 
other  half  with  Eiji  Amau,  his  counselor,  later  Foreign  Office  spokes- 
man in  Tokio  and  Japanese  Minister  in  Switzerland  where  I  saw 
him  at  League  of  Nations  meetings.  During  the  second  World  War, 
I  crossed  the  English  Channel  with  him  through  a  cordon  of  Brit- 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  295 

ish  protective  destroyers;  Amau  was  on  his  way  to  assume  the  Jap- 
anese ambassadorship  in  Rome. 

In  Moscow,  Amau's  special  duty  was  to  report  home  on  the  Soviet 
internal  situation.  He  began  by  asking  me  about  domestic  condi- 
tions. I  said  they  were  rather  difficult.  He  said:  "Who,  in  your  opin- 
ion, is  next  in  power  to  Stalin?"  and  while  I  guessed  he  gave  me 
his  own  answer,  in  true  indirect  Japanese  fashion,  by  telling  me  that 
a  German  professor  had  recently  examined  Kaganovitch  and  found 
him  rather  nervous.  When  we  left  Soviet  politics  and  discussed  for- 
eign affairs  he  did  not  contradict  when  I  identified  Manchukuo  with 
Japan. 

But  Hirota  denied  it  and  said  Manchukuo  was  an  independent 
state.  I  laughed.  He  said,  "Like  Egypt."  I  said,  "Like  India."  He  said, 
"Perhaps  like  Nicaragua." 

Hirota  commented  angrily  on  Secretary  of  State  Stimson's  disin- 
clination to  recognize  Manchukuo.  "But  Mr.  Stimson,"  Hirota 
screeched  in  a  high  voice,  "is  only  one  person.  The  real  ruler  of 
the  United  States  i$  President  Hoover.  Does  Mr.  Castle  [then  As- 
sistant Secretary  of  State]  say  that  America  will  not  recognize  Man- 
chukuo?" 

I  ventured  to  explain  that  although  American  officials  might  dif- 
fer on  foreign  policy  it  was  not  usual  for  high  members  of  the  United 
States  government  to  enunciate  divergent  foreign  policies.  But  he 
measured  American  affairs  with  his  Japanese  yardstick,  for  he  as- 
serted unreservedly  that  he,  for  instance,  represented  the  army 
"which  is,"  he  added,  "the  real  power  in  my  country."  "General 
Araki,"  he  said,  "is  only  a  figurehead.  The  real  men  are  the  young 
officers,  the  colonels,  who,  unfortunately,  still  have  no  leader.  .  .  . 
But  they  will  not. make  war  on  Russia,"  he  insisted.  "While  I  am 
here,  there  will  be  no  war."  He  pounded  the  desk. 

I  suggested  that  sometimes  ambassadors  were  recalled. 

"No,"  he  declared,  "I  am  here  for  the  army,  and  the  army  will 
not  fight  Russia.". 

The  Ambassador  affirmed  that  Japan  did  not  fear  Communist  prop- 
aganda. Japanese  economy  has  suffered  and  the  government  would 
cope  with  that,  but  the  Japanese  Communist  movement  was  weak, 
and  the  weaker  the  Communist  movement,  the  smoother  the  rela- 
tions with  Moscow.  He  gave  Turkey  and  Italy  as  other  illustrations 
thus  proposing  the  paradox  that  a  Fascist  country  which  suppressed 


296      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

its  Communists  might  be  on  better  terms  with  the  Soviet  govern- 
ment than  a  democracy  that  was  irritated  by  them. 

Sir  Esmond  Ovey,  the  British  Ambassador,  formerly  Minister  in 
Mexico,  usually  took  a  friendly  stand  towards  the  Soviet  govern- 
ment. I  used  to  see  him  often.  Once  I  was  at  lunch  with  him  and 
Lady  Ovey  in  the  Sugar  King's  Palace,  when  an  attendant  announced 
that  "Mr.  Greenway  has  just  returned."  Mr.  Greenway  was  the  Sec- 
retary of  the  Embassy.  Ovey  asked  him  in  for  coffee.  Greenway 
told  the  story  of  an  extended  trip  he  had  just  completed  through 
the  Soviet  provinces.  His  impressions  convinced  him  that  the  Soviet 
government  would  soon  fall.  He  knew  definitely  that  all  Bolshevik 
leaders,  with  the  exception  of  Stalin,  had  deposited  large  sums  abroad 
so  as  to  live  in  comfortable  exile.  Seeing  my  skeptical  smile  he  as- 
sured us  that  his  information  came  to  him  "from  unimpeachable 
authority."  It  always  does.  Ovey,  however,  kept  his  head,  although 
once  his  attitude  was  such  that  Litvinov  felt  compelled  to  tell  him, 
with  characteristic  gruffness,  that  "this  is  not  Mexico,  you  know." 
Greenway  had  served  in  Brazil  before  his  transfer  to  Moscow. 

My  best  Moscow  contact  in  the  diplomatic  corps— until  Hitler 
spoiled  it— was  with  the  German  Embassy.  And  even  after  Hitler 
arrived,  several  high  German  officials  in  Moscow  told  me  to  come  to 
the  Embassy  even  though  they  would  have  to  stop  inviting  me  to 
their  homes.  About  once  a  month  I  went  to  lunch  at  Ambassador 
von  Dirksen's  place.  When  the  waiters  came  in  to  serve  he  kept 
quiet  or  strung  out  empty  words.  Sometimes  there  were  only  the 
two  of  us.  But  often  Mrs.  Dirksen  was  present.  She  was  a  treat— tall, ' 
unconventional-looking  and  unconventional-acting. 

After  lunch,  the  Ambassador  would  tell  the  waiter  to  serve  coffee 
in  the  parlor.  That  was  a  signal  for  Mrs.  Dirksen  to  disappear,  be- 
cause die  Ambassador  wished  the  real  political  talk  to  commence. 
But  she  generally  refused  to  be  shelved  and  his  grim  face,  with  the 
typical  German  saber  cut  and  the  monocle,  grew  graver  still.  For, 
much  to  my  delight,  she  did  not  remain  quiet.  Once,  he  kicked  her 
under  the  coffee  table— gentle  reminder  to  be  discreet— and  she 
kicked  back,  and  both  of  them  noticed  that  I  had  seen  this  affec- 
tionate exchange.  Dirksen  was  pedestrian  but  efficient  and  not  with- 
out flashes  of  wit.  He  continued  in  the  Brockdorff-Rantzau  tradi- 
tion of  friendship  for  Russia  until  Hitler  made  it  impossible  and 


FREE  LANCE  AT  LARGE  297 

removed  him  to  Japan.  The  ambassadors  of  dictatorships  have  no 
enviable  lot. 

Generally  speaking  there  have  been  no  great  ambassadors  in  Mos- 
cow or  elsewhere  in  the  betweeri-wars  period.  The  day  of  the  diplo- 
mat in  foreign  capitals  who  makes  his  own  policy  is  gone.  It  van- 
ished when  the  radio,  airplane,  and  transatlantic  telephone  came  upon 
the  scene.  When  a  prime  minister  can  get  into  a  plane  and  fly  to 
see  a  dictator,  when  a  president  can  pick  up  his  telephone  and  talk 
to  a  foreign  minister  in  Europe,  an  ambassador  becomes  a  secretary 
and  reporter.  But  since  newspapermen  are  often  better  reporters, 
this  diplomatic  function  too  is  circumscribed.  Since  1919,  foreign 
ministers  have  been  crossing  frontiers  and  holding  international  con- 
ferences with  a  frequency  that  is  unprecedented  in  all  history.  When- 
ever anything  of  importance  occurs  the  ambassador's  boss  comes  on 
the  scene  to  clinch  die  deal,  to  sign  the  document,  to  straighten  out 
difficulties.  Much  of  the  fun  has  gone  out  of  diplomats7  work  and 
they  therefore  devote  more  of  their  time  to  fun,  entertainment,  pol- 
ishing the  social  graces,  showing  national  movies,  and  carrying  mes- 
sages. An  ambassador  is  a  glorified  errand  boy  and,  if  capable,  a  prop- 
agandist too.  He  can  also  pervert  his  government's  policy. 

The  Bolsheviks  in  1935  and  1936  were  still  obsessed  with  the  fear 
that  Germany  and  Japan  would  attack  them  simultaneously.  They 
therefore  wanted  better  relations  with  England,  France,  and  Amer- 
ica. But  England  had  offered  only  weak  resistance  to  Italy  in  Abys- 
sinia and  how  could  one  expect  her  to  be  resolute  against  Germany? 
Yet  Moscow  was  most  anxious  to  improve  relations  with  London. 
France  cold-shouldered  Russia.  America  held  aloof.  The  Russians 
therefore  continued  to  arm  frantically  and  to  advocate  the  Popular 
Front  whose  aims  were:  anti-Fascist  governments  in  democratic  coun- 
tries, maintenance  of  the  geographic  status  quo  against  Fascist  as- 
saults, and  to  this  end,  the  strengthening  of  the  League  of  Nations. 
On  their  part,  the  Bolsheviks  were  prepared  to  collaborate  with 
bourgeois  governments,  and  to  soft-pedal  the  world  revolution. 

But  I  submitted  to  Moscow  friends  that  the  Soviet  government  had 
to  do  more.  "I  believe,"  I  wrote  in  a  Nation  article  on  foreign  af- 
fairs, "that  the  democratization  of  the  Soviet  Union  would  weaken 
the  enemies  of  peace."  Raya  Oumansky  had  just  served  us  a  plentiful 
lunch  in  her  apartment  on  the  Spiridonovka,  and  the  men— Quman- 
sky,  Boris  Mironov,  his  assistant  in  the  press  department,  and  I— re- 


298      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

tired  to  another  room  where  I  read  them  this  sentence  from  my 
article  in  order  to  provoke  a  discussion.  Mironov  agreed  with  me. 
But  Oumansky,  always  the  official,  said  it  was  irrelevant.  (Ouman- 
sky  is  now  Soviet  Ambassador  in  Washington,  and  Mironov,  my 
best  Soviet  friend,  was  shot.) 

It  was  very  relevant.  A  democratic  Russia  would  have  assisted 
anti-Fascist  elements  in  France  and  England  in  getting  rid  of  their 
Chamberlains  and  Bonnets.  Instead,  the  purges  and  the  Moscow  trials 
helped  produce  the  second  World  War. 


16.  The  Extended  Hand 

the  news  of  American  recognition  of  Soviet  Russia 
reached  Moscow  in  November,  1933,  Stalin  said,  "Ne 
Razkhleb&tsa"  which  in  his  unique  Russian  meant,  "Keep 
your  shirt  on.  Don't  display  our  excessive  glee."  And  "Ne  Razkhle- 
batsa"  was  the  slogan  which  went  out  to  the  whole  country  as  in- 
structions to  editorial  writers  and  speakers.  Be  dignified.  The  Soviet 
Union  is  a  great  power.  Keep  your  shirt  on. 

Ambassador  William  Christian  Bullitt  got  a  warm  welcome  from 
the  Kremlin.  He  had  been  a  consistent  friend  of  Soviet  Russia  since 
his  very  creditable  performance  in  Moscow  in  1919— the  best  thing 
he  ever  did— and,  partly  as  a  reward,  partly  to  ascertain  what  was 
the  potential  of  Soviet-American  relations,  Bullitt  received  an  invi- 
tation into  the  holy  of  holies  where  few  foreign  ambassadors  have 
trod,  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  Stalin  about  which  he  al- 
ways maintained  a  difficult  silence. 

William  Bullitt  came  from  Rittenhouse  Square,  the  rich  aristo- 
cratic center  of  old  Philadelphia.  I  was  born  not  very  far  away— 
somewhat  nearer  the  Liberty  Bell— above  a  delicatessen  store  in  the 
fish  and  chicken  market  at  Fourth  and  Monroe  Streets.  Kenneth 
Durant,  a  mutual  acquaintance  of  Bullitt's  and  mine,  also  hailed  from 
Rittenhouse  Square. 

Bessie  Beattie,  one  of  the  first  Americans  to  write  eyewitness  ac- 
counts of  the  Bolshevik  Revolution,  and  author  of  The  Red  Heart 
of  Russia— tells  this  story.  She  returned  from  Russia  in  1918.  Before 
going  home  to  San  Francisco  she  went  down  to  Washington  to  col- 
lect literature  on  the  war  in  George  Creel's  make-the-world-safe- 
for-democracy  government  propaganda  bureau.  A  pleasant  young 
man  helped  her  and  engaged  her  in  conversation.  Where  had  she 
come  from? 

She  said,  "Russia." 

He  asked  what  she  thought  of  it,  and  she  said  it  was  fine. 

Suddenly  he  ran  out  and  called  another  young  man.  "Listen,"  he 
exclaimed,  "this  lady  agrees  with  us  about  Soviet  Russia  and  she's 

299 


300      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

been  there."  One  of  the  young  men  was  Kenneth  Durant,  who  for 
many  years  has  been  New  York  correspondent  of  the  Soviet  tele- 
graphic agency  TASS  and  adviser  of  the  Soviet  Embassy  in  Wash- 
ington and  of  other  Soviet  agencies.  The  other  young  man  was 
William  C.  Bullitt. 

The  day  Bullitt  arrived  in  Moscow  I  phoned  him  from  the  lobby 
of  the  Hotel  National  and  asked  whether  I  could  come  up.  He 
greeted  me  very  cordially  with  his  red-and-gold  smile.  He  seemed  in- 
telligent and  very  pro-Soviet  with  an  air  of  "Well,  we  succeeded 
in  the  end  in  getting  recognition."  He  used  one  phrase  that  stuck 
in  my  mind.  He  said,  "After  all,  the  President,  Jack  Reed,  and  I  are 
of  the  same  American  strain." 

Later  that  day  somebody  called  Bullitt  from  the  lobby  and  in- 
formed him  that  Harpo  Marx  was  downstairs.  Bullitt  descended  in 
a  jiffy,  pumped  Harpo's  hand,  and  appeared  pleased  that  Mr.  Marx 
had  done  him  the  honor.  Harpo  talked  in  Moscow,  talked  very  much, 
and  regaled  all  parties  with  jokes  and  antics. 

In  due  course,  the  Russians  arranged  a  public  performance  in 
which  Harpo  Marx  would  show  his  art.  We  went  to  the  Myusik 
Hoi,  as  the  metropolitan  vaudeville  theater  was  called.  First,  Harpo 
had  to  be  shown  Moscow's  variety,  and  so  the  regular  performance 
dragged  on  for  many  hours  with  about  one  laugh  per  hour.  Finally, 
it  did  end.  Now  for  Harpo.  Yes,  but  .  .  .  Harpo  Marx  had  to  be 
introduced  to  the  Soviet  audience.  Accordingly,  Pudovkin,  success- 
ful Soviet  cinema  producer,  rose  in  front  of  the  curtain  and  deliv- 
ered a  speech  punctuated  with  appropriate  quotations  from  Lenin, 
Stalin,  ai\d  Engels  on  the  role  of  humor  in  society,  on  the  social  sig- 
nificance of  Hollywood,  and  finally  on  the  real  meaning  of  Marx, 
Harpo. 

At  last  the  curtain  went  up— it  was  nearly  midnight— and  Harpo 
in  his  famous  straw  wig  appeared  in  a  two-actor  sketch.  It  was  one 
unending  laugh.  Several  times  the  performance  was  interrupted  be- 
cause the  heroine  just  couldn't  stop  laughing.  The  Russians,  whose 
laughing  muscles  had  grown  flabby  from  insufficient  exercise,  held 
their  sides  and  asked  for  more.  Harpo,  among  other  things,  did  his 
renowned  cutlery  trick.  Dozens  of  knives,  spoons,  and  forks  dropped 
from  his  sleeves.  Then  he  took  a  huge  quantity  of  silver  from  inside 
the  actress's  dress. 

After  the  show  many  foreigners  and  Soviet  friends  went  back- 
stage. Among  them  was  Maxim  Litvinov,  with  his  wife  and  son  and 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  301 

daughter.  And  here  it  developed  that  Litvinov's  pockets  were  filled 
with  knives,  spoons,  and  forks  which  Harpo  discovered.  Maxim 
grinned  broadly  and  little  Tania  clapped  with  joy. 

Comedy  does  not  grow  profusely  in  the  orchard  of  dictatorship. 
Back  in  1922,  Bim  and  Bom,  the  Russian  Amos  and  Andy,  produced 
a  sketch  in  which  Bim  came  on  the  stage  with  photographs  of  Lenin 
and  Trotzky. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  those?"  Bom -asks. 

"Hang  one  and  stand  the  other  against  the  wall,"  Bim  replied. 
But  that  sort  of  thing  was  soon  prohibited. 

Sergei  Eisenstein  is  the  great  genius  of  the  Soviet  cinema.  His  si- 
lent movie  Potemkin  is  still  unsurpassed.  I  have  known  him  well 
for  many  years  and  we  frequently  exchanged  visits.  He  is  a  natural 
comedian.  His  culture  and  reading,  his  knowledge  of  languages,  art, 
and  politics  are  above  the  average  of  even  the  most  advanced  circles. 
His  big  head,  surrounded  by  a  thinning  corona  of  long  blond  hair, 
is  crammed  full  of  weighty  facts.  But  his  natural  bent  is  comedy. 
Every  gesture,  every  grimace  and  movement  of  the  hands  is  mirth- 
provoking,  and  his  jokes  and  puns  are  myriad. 

He  once  planned  to  do  a  comedy  about  the  Soviet  bureaucrat. 
Here  was  a  subject  born  for  comedy— the  blundering,  helpless  offi- 
cial worshiping  papers,  files,  and  numbers.  ...  A  Soviet  journalist 
once  received  an  assignment  to  write  up  an  insane  asylum.  He  came 
to  the  entrance  of  a  building  and  heard  one  man  say  to  another,  "This 
is  an  insane  asylum,"  so  he  went  inside.  He  asked  to  be  taken  upstairs 
in  the  elevator.  The  elevator  man  sat  immovable  on  his  little  stool 
and  said,  "That's  not  an  elevator.  That's  a  cage  and  only  lupatics  go 
into  it  to  be  stuck  between  the  floors."  The  journalist  decided  that 
this  was  certainly  the  right  place,  and  walked  to  the  second  floor. 
In  the  corridor,  he  saw  women  with  papers  rushing  in  one  direction 
and  a  moment  later  he  saw  them  come  running  back  in  the  opposite 
direction,  their  fingers  in  their  hair,  shouting,  "Oi,  oi."  He  peered 
into  an  office.  A  disheveled  man  in  shirt  sleeves  was  banging  on  the 
telephone  and  yelling,  "I  am  the  director  of  a  trust,  do  you  under- 
stand? The  director  of  a  trust."  The  journalist  made  a  note,  "A  case 
of  false  identification."  He  stopped  a  person  who  looked  important 
and  might  be  the  doctor  and  said  to  him,  "I  have  come  here  to  write 
up  the  insane  asylum.  What  shall  I1  do?"  "You  stay  right  here,"  the 
man  replied.  "You'll  get  all  the  material  you  want."  And  in  this 
manner  the  journalist  went  through  the  entire  building,  then  re- 


302      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

turned  home  and  wrote  up  the  story,  and  added  a  postscript,  "Later 
I  learned  that  it  was  the  Commissariat  of  Trade." 

Eisenstein  would  have  packed  such  a  situation  with  rollicking 
fun,  but  the  Soviet  government  refused  him  the  permission.  It  was 
all  right  to  print  an  occasional  article  ridiculing  bureaucracy.  Mik- 
hail Koltzov  and  other  feuilletonists  did  that.  But  a  movie  reached 
millions  in  towns  and  villages  and  made  too  big  and  permanent  an 
impression. 

During  the  first  five-year  plan  an  anecdote  went  from  mouth  to 
mouth  in  Soviet  Russia:  Two  workingmen  in  their  own  airplanes 
met  in  the  air.  "Where  are  you  going?"  says  the  first.  "Pm  on  my 
way  to  Odessa  to  buy  a  dozen  eggs.  And  where  are  you  going?" 
"Ah,"  he  replies,  "I  hear  there  are  men's  socks  to  be  bought  in  Len- 
ingrad." As  Markoosha  once  said,  "The  best  subway  in  the  world 
and  no  needles  in  Moscow."  But  you  cannot  burlesque  Soviet  econ- 
omy on  the  stage  or  silver  screen.  The  mature  can  laugh  at  and 
criticize  themselves.  But  when  the  Bolsheviks  introduced  Samo- 
kritika,  or  self-criticism,  it  was  confined  to  rasping  criticism  of 
others.  This  does  not  mean  that  Soviet  citizens  never  smiled  or 
laughed  or  that  Soviet  art  confined  itself  to  barren  tragedy  and  tough 
political  fare.  The  Little  Golden  Calf  by  Ilf  and  Petrov  would  take 
a  prize  in  any  international  competition  for  mirthful  satire.  Squaring 
the  Circle,  written  by  Katayev,  Petrov's  brother,  entertained  au- 
diences in  Berlin  and  New  York  as  well  as  Russia.  But  such  speci- 
mens were  rare.  Koltzov,  the  editor  of  the  Moscow  satirical  weekly 
Kr<okodil,  once  asked  me  about  Will  Rogers.  Among  other  things  I 
told  him  that  Rogers  sent  a  daily  syndicated  telegram  of  some  ten 
lines  to  the  newspapers  and  they  regularly  contained  two  or  three 
laughs  each.  "Hm,"  Koltzov  commented,  "I'd  be  happy  if  we  had 
two  laughs  in  a  whole  issue  of  Krokodil" 

There  are  two  things  in  a  dictatorship:  the  dictatorship  and  its 
enemies.  It  is  sacrilege  to  make  fun  of  the  dictatorship.  Nor  can  you 
make  light  of  its  enemies.  You  can't  shoot  a  man  after  you've  dis- 
missed him  with  ridicule. 

When  Harpo  Marx  said  good-by,  leaving  Soviet  cinema  direc- 
tors dejected  and  jealous,  the  American  colony  settled  back  to  work, 
and  the  American  Embassy  got  down  to  business.  John  C.  Wiley, 
the  Counselor  of  the  Embassy,  took  care  of  the  difficult  routine  with- 
out neglecting  diplomacy  and  society,  while  Bullitt  established  con- 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  303 

tacts  and  felt  his  way  towards  a  policy.  Bullitt  is  an  erratic  person- 
ality and  has  an  erratic  intelligence.  He  is  brilliant  at  times  and  quite 
lacking  in  normal  good  judgment  at  other  times. 

In  Moscow,  Bullitt  built  up  a  strong  friendship  with  the  Polish 
Ambassador  Lukashevitch,  and  I  noticed  in  1935  that  Bullitt  mani- 
fested an  increasing  sympathy  for  Polish  foreign  policy  which  kept 
step  with  Hitler's. 

Bullitt  often  told  me  that  President  Roosevelt  was,  like  himself, 
pro-French,  but  that  the  State  Department  tended  to  be  more  pro- 
British.  Bullitt's  affability  and  superficiality  are  very  French.  He  is 
too  temperamental  and  expansive  to  like  the  stolid,  heavy-jawed 
British. 

At  first,  the  United  States  Embassy  was  the  sun  of  Moscow's  diplo- 
matic heaven,  and  Bullitt  was  social  king.  But  soon  a  cloud  dimmed 
and  chilled  the  scene.  The  Russians  said  Bullitt  was  "not  serious," 
and  to  a  Russian  that  is  a  serious  charge.  Part  of  the  trouble  lay  in 
a  cordial,  mutual  dislike  between  Bullitt  and  Foreign  Commissar 
Litvinov.  Litvinov  several  times  told  me  of  his  regret  that  Wash- 
ington had  not  sent  a  career  diplomat  instead  of  an  "ambitious  and 
impatient"  one  who  hoped  to  rise  to  fame  on  success  or  failure  in 
Russia.  There  were  no  laurels  to  be  reaped  by  Bullitt  in  Moscow. 
He  had  legitimately  hoped  there  would  be,  and  he  was  disappointed 
through  no  fault  of  his  own.  The  two  great  fields  in  which  Soviet- 
American  relations  could  develop  were  trade  and  the  Far  East.  But 
trade  did  not  reach  high  levels  for  business  reasons,  while  the  United 
States  was  not  then  ready  to  collaborate  with  Russia  to  save  China 
from  Japan's  love. 

The  petty  irritation  between  the  American  Embassy  and  the  So- 
viet Foreign  Office  reached  an  explosive  climax  in  August,  1935. 
That  month  a  Congress  of  the  Third  International  (Comintern) 
convened  in  Moscow— the  first  since  1928.  The  Comintern  had  been 
moribund  because  there  were  no  revolutions  or  potential  revolutions, 
and  that  being  the  case,  the  Soviet  government  did  not  wish  to  spoil 
its  foreign  relations  by  releasing  the  raucous  voice  of  the  Third  In- 
ternational. But  a  new  phenomenon  tormented  Stalin  in  1935:  Hitler. 

When  Hitler  took  power  in  1933,  Moscow  kept  very  quiet  about 
Nazi  barbarism.  When  Moscow  keeps  quiet  it  is  afraid— that  is  a 
pretty  safe  rule  to  go  by.  Throughout  1933  and  during  part  of 
1934, 1  used  to  plead  with  Radek,  with  Rayevsky,  the  foreign  editor 
of  I&uestia,  with  Boris  Mironov,  assistant  censor  in  the  Foreign  Of- 


304      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

fice,  and  numerous  other  Russians.  "The  whole  world  is  protesting 
against  the  Nazis,"  I  said.  "Mass  meetings,  demonstrations  and  pa- 
rades protest  against  the  burning  of  the  books,  the  persecu- 
tions of  Jews  and  other  minorities,  the  atrocities  in  concentration 
camps.  .  .  ." 

I  told  them  of  a  procession  I  had  seen  in  New  York  where 
marchers  carried  banners  such  as  "Down  with  Nazi  paganism," 
"Down  with  Hitler,"  while  the  Jewish  undertakers  passed  with  a 
big  placard  which  read,  "We  want  Hitler."  But  the  voice  of  Moscow 
was  not  heard  in  this  universal  chorus  of  anti-Nazi  indignation.  My 
friends'  usual  reply  was,  "Wait."  Moscow  feared  a  Nazi- Japanese 
attack. 

My  impatience  was  rewarded  toward  the  end  of  1934.  Soviet  do- 
mestic conditions  had  been  normalized  and  the  Nazis  were  looming 
as  a  grave  menace.  Germany  was  arming.  Moscow  looked  around 
for  friends.  On  May  2,  1935,  the  Soviet  and  French  governments 
signed  a  mutual  assistance  treaty  which  most  men  regarded  as  a 
military  alliance.  Both  felt  threatened  by  Nazi  Germany.  A  few 
days  later  Pierre  Laval,  Premier  of  France,  arrived  in  Moscow.  The 
Foreign  Office  gave  him  a  grand  evening  reception  at  which  "all 
Moscow"  was  present.  Bullitt  stood  and  talked  with  Marshal  Tuk- 
hachevsky,  assistant  War  Commissar,  and  then  whispered  long  with 
Laval's  companions.  Laval  spent  most  of  his  time  talking  to  War 
Commissar  Voroshilov  through  an  interpreter.  I  watched  Laval's 
face  for  a  long  time.  He  has  the  face  of  a  French  provincial  butcher. 
It  is  the  face  of  a  man  who  trusts  no  one  and  would  be  surprised  if 
anyone  trusted  him. 

Stalin  never  came  to  such  affairs.  Nor  Molotov.  The  host  was  Lit- 
vinov  and  he  danced  with  the  youngest  and  prettiest.  The  Bolshe- 
viks wore  full  dress  or  military  uniforms  with  their  decorations,  but 
leaders  like  President  Kalinin  or  Trade  Commissar  Mikoyan  came 
in  street  attire. 

Laval  had  an  audience  with  Stalin,  Molotov,  and  Litvinov  where 
they  were  photographed  in  smiles,  and  then  a  famous  communique 
was  issued.  "Comrade  Stalin,"  it  read,  "understands  and  fully  ap- 
proves the  national  defense  policy  of  Franco  in  keeping  her  armed 
forces  at  the  level  required  for  security."  Why  should  Stalin  ap- 
prove the  French  government's  policy  of  national  defense?  Was  that 
not  the  business  of  Frenchmen?  Yes,  and  some  Frenchmen,  the 
French  Communists,  had  theretofore  disapproved  of  French  defense 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  305 

measures  and  refused  to  vote  in  favor  of  appropriations  for  the  con- 
struction of  the  Maginot  Line.  But  what  was  the  use  of  Communist 
Russia  entering  into  a  military  alliance  with  France  if  French  Com- 
munists did  their  best  to  keep  France  militarily  weak?  There  was 
obviously  no  logic  in  that,  and  through  this  communique  Stalin  gave 
instructions  to  the  French  Communists  to  change  their  strategy— 
which  they  immediately  did.  Frenchmen  in  Laval's  retinue  made  no 
secret  of  the  fact  that  France  could  not  fight  a  war  successfully  un- 
less the  French  Communists  supported  it,  and  now  Stalin  had  guar- 
anteed that  the  French  Communists  would  not  be  anti-war  if  war 
came;  they  would  co-operate  with  the  French  government, 

Laval's  visit  to  Moscow  was  thus  the  prelude  to  the  Popular  Front. 
That  French  reactionary's  chat  on  the  Red  Olympus  ushered  in 
world-wide  collaboration  between  liberals,  democrats,  socialists  and 
Communists— a  collaboration  which,  ironically  enough,  eliminated 
Laval  from  office  until  Hitler  conquered  France. 

In  many  countries,  something  like  the  Popular  Front  was  ripe.  In 
the  spring  of  1935,  Margaret  Marshall  and  Muriel  Gray,  of  the 
Nation  staff,  gave  me  a  party  at  their  Greenwich  Village  apartment. 
Benjamin  Stolberg  was  among  those  present,  and  he  drew  me  aside 
and  said,  'Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  if  you  arranged  a  little  lunch 
for  me  and  Earl  Browder?" 

I  did  not  then  know  Browder;  I  met  him  later.  I  said,  however, 
that  Browder  might  object  because  of  the  accusations  Stolberg  had 
leveled  against  the  American  Communist  party  in  the  New  York 
press.  But  the  fact  that  Benjamin  Stolberg  thought  Earl  Browder 
would  consent  to  talk  to  him  is  interesting  as  evidence  that  an  anti- 
Communist  believed  there  had  been  a  real  change  of  heart  among 
Communists  towards  their  opponents.  Stolberg's  suggestion  was 
merely  one  small  reflection  of  a  new  attitude  on  the  part  of  very 
many  non-Communists  and  anti-Communists.  Sentiment  was  crystal- 
lizing towards  a  union  of  the  foes  of  Fascism.  The  rise  of  Hitler 
called  for  a  mobilization  of  forces  against  him.  Democratic  disunity 
within  Germany  had  led  to  Hitler's  victory  at  home.  A  widespread 
conviction  prevailed  that  disunity  outside  Germany  would  lead  to 
Nazi  victories  abroad. 

Moscow  observed  this  yearning  toward  unity.  Moscow's  own  in- 
terests turned  it  in  the  same  direction.  The  Bolsheviks  needed  allies 
among  foreign  governments  and  foreign  popular  movements. 

The  formal  adoption  by  Communists  of  die  Popular  Front  took 


306      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

place  at  the  Seventh  Comintern  congress  held  in  Moscow  di 
August,  1935.  Moscow  extended  its  hand  to  the  world's  non-  ~ 
nists.  Bullitt  chose  that  moment  to  break  with  Moscow. 

Bullitt  regarded  the  Comintern  congress  as  a  personal  insult.  He 
had  been  closeted  in  the  White  House  with  President  Roosevelt  and 
Commissar  Litvinov  in  November,  1933,  when  United  States  recog- 
nition of  the  Soviet  government  was  arranged.  Litvinov  gave  certain 
promises.  Mr.  Roosevelt  gave  certain  promises.  Litvinov  later  told 
me  that  Roosevelt  had  broken  his  promises,  and  Bullitt  later  told  me 
that  the  President  was  angry  because  Litvinov  had  broken  his  prom- 
ises. At  any  rate,  when  the  White  House  conferences  were  con- 
cluded, an  exchange  of  official  letters  between  Roosevelt  and  Litvinov 
appeared  in  the  press.  Every  detail  of  these  letters  had  been  gone  into 
during  the  conferences.  Litvinov's  letters  pledged  the  Soviet  govern- 
ment "not  to  permit  the  formation  or  residence  on  its  territory  of 
any  organization  or  group— and  to  prevent  the  activity  on  its  territory 
of  any  organization  or  group  of  representatives  or  officials  of  any 
organization  or  group— which"  .  .  .  and  there  follows  a  description 
of  the  American  Communist  party.  This  was  a  water-tight  undertak- 
ing, and  its  literal  interpretation  would  have  required  the  Soviets  to 
disband  the  Comintern  and  to  bar  all  American  Communist  delegates 
from  the  Soviet  Union.  But  when  American  correspondents  asked 
Litvinov  at  a  big  press  conference  whether  this  pledge  applied  to 
the  Comintern,  he  replied,  "The  Comintern  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
documents.  You  should  not  read  more  into  the  documents  than  was 
intended."  Litvinov  contended  in  1935,  moreover,  that  he  had  in- 
formed President  Roosevelt  that  the  Soviet  government  accepts  no 
responsibility  for  the  Comintern.  Nevertheless,  the  text  of  Litvinov's 
letter  to  Roosevelt  stands  as  a  solemn  Soviet  commitment.  And  so, 
when  American  Communists  came  to  Moscow  and  reported  at  the 
Comintern  congress  on  labor  conditions  and  strikes  in  the  United 
States,  the  State  Department  was  warranted  in  protesting.  Indeed, 
the  American  government  would  have  been  entitled  to  discontinue 
relations  with  Moscow. 

The  protest  called  attention  to  a  broken  Soviet  pledge.  But  when 
the  United  States  failed  to  disrupt  relations  it  meant  that  the  United 
States  did  not  take  the  pledge  seriously— unless  Bullitt  believed  that 
after  his  warning  Stalin  would  shut  down  the  Comintern  and  the 
American  Communist  party.  But  this  would  have  been  too  naive* 
The  Russians  have  a  proverb,  "If  you  say  'A,'  you  must  be  ready  to 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  307 

say  *B.' "  Washington  said  "A"  but  had  no  intention  of  saying  "B," 
and  so  America  accused,  Moscow  denied  the  accusation,  and  nothing 
happened  except  that  the  atmosphere  between  the  two  nations  was 
clouded  with  bitterness. 

A  statesman  would  have  paid  more  attention  to  the  new  moderate 
policy  of  the  Comintern  than  to  the  cold,  two-year-old  text  of 
Litvinov's  letter.  The  Comintern's  resolutions  on  the  Popular  Front 
made  it  plain  that  the  world  Communists  were  wheeling  to  a  new 
strategy.  The  Comintern  instructed  Communists  in  all  countries  to 
"form  a  united  front  with  Social  Democratic  and  reformist  organiza- 
tions as  well  as  with  mass  movements  of  national  liberation  and  re- 
ligious, democratic  and  pacifist  groups." 

Was  this  sincere  or  was  it  a  maneuver?  There  is  nothing  permanent 
in  any  government's  policy  and  expediency  enters  into  all  official 
decisions.  But  the  policy  of  the  Popular  Front  was  a  natural  growth. 
People  everywhere  yearned  for  it,  Communists  and  non-Communists. 
All  politics  is  a  choice  between  two  evils.  Those  who  can  stand  no 
evil  are  not  in  politics.  The  menace  of  Fascism  made  it  ridiculous 
for  anti-Fascists  to  be  squabbling  among  themselves  while  the  enemy 
moved  up  on  them.  Non-Communists  were  prepared  for  the  Popular 
Front  by  Hitler,  by  economic  difficulties  in  capitalist  countries,  by 
Russia's  successes,  and  by  a  desire  to  see  the  Soviet  experiment  pro- 
ceed without  molestation  from  the  outside.  The  Popular  Front  also 
pleased  most  Communists.  I  talked  to  hundreds  of  Communists  dur- 
ing the  Popular  Front  period  from  1935  to  1939,  some  rank  and 
file,  some  the  highest,  and  I  found  that  the  alliance  with  non-Commu- 
nists was  congenial  to  them  all.  To  be  sure,  it  felt  strange.  "Social 
Democrat"  had  been  a  term  of  abuse  automatically  interchangeable 
with  "Social  Fascist."  To  call  anyone  a  "reformist"  had  been  to 
insult  him.  Religious  and  pacifist  organizations  had  always  been 
fought  as  enemies  of  the  working  class.  The  Comintern's  sharp 
reversal  drove  some  Communists  into  the  Trotzkyist  camp.  But  the 
bulk  of  them  liked  it  even  though  the  hostility  towards  non-Commu- 
nist allies  never  disappeared  altogether.  The  Popular  Front  gave  the 
Communists  a  wide  field  of  activity  in  national  life.  They  became 
important.  Lenin  always  taught  that  Communists  must  keep  contact 
with  the  masses.  The  Popular  Front  presented  a  golden  opportunity 
for  such  contact.  Moreover,  much  had  changed  since  the  1928  Comin- 
tern congress  predicted  "a  new  cycle  of  revolutions  and  wars."  Wars, 


308      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

yes.  But  no  revolutions.  The  Comintern  realistically  recognized  in 
1935  that  the  impending  wars  could  only  be  prevented  if  Commu- 
nists forsook  active  advocacy  of  revolution  and  extended  their  hand 
to  all  parties  and  persons  who  wanted  to  stop  Fascist  aggression.  This 
was  the  sense  of  the  Comintern  congress  of  August,  1935;  yet  it  was 
on  an  issue  raised  by  this  congress  that  Bullitt  broke  with  the  Soviet 
Union  and  departed  from  his  pro-Soviet  traditions.  While  the  Rus- 
sians were  intransigent  foes  of  everything  capitalistic  he  sympathized 
with  Moscow.  When  the  Russians,  for  selfish  reasons,  became  con- 
ciliatory and  proposed  collaboration  to  check  Hitler  and  Japan  he 
turned  away  from  them.  If  the  Popular  Front  had  been  a  prolonged 
success  the  second  World  War  could  have  been  prevented.  It  might 
have  been  a  success.  But  if  it  had  been  only  a  possibility  it  was  much 
more  important  than  registering  impractical  protest  against  speeches 
delivered  by  three  insignificant  Americans  in  the  Kremlin. 

Ambassador  Bullitt  did  not  merely  deliver  his  note  of  protest  to 
the  Soviet  Foreign  Office.  Energetic  individual,  he  launched  a  fierce 
propaganda  campaign  in  Moscow  against  Moscow.  He  met  the  Amer- 
ican correspondents  every  day  and  urged  them  by  their  dispatches 
to  fan  the  flames  of  ariti-Sovietism  in  America.  He  ignored  precedents 
and  summoned  non-American  foreign  correspondents  to  do  the  same 
thing  in  their  own  countries.  He  also  worked  on  foreign  diplomats 
to  have  their  governments  protest  against  the  Comintern  congress. 
Some  did  so  without  Bullitt's  vehemence  and  with  no  conviction  that 
it  would  help. 

After  that,  Bullitt's  presence  in  Russia  became  impossible  and  he 
withdrew  to  Paris  in  a  cyclone  of  dust.  It  was  the  mistake  of  his  life. 
He  might  have  served  the  cause  of  peace.  Instead  his  anti-Commu- 
nism propelled  him  into  the  arms  of  the  appeasers  in  England  and 
France.  More  on  that  in  a  later  chapter. 

Mr.  Bullitt  was  succeeded  by  Joseph  E.  Davies,  a  very  wealthy 
man,  who  took  a  pro-Soviet  line  in  Moscow  and  Washington,  Usu- 
ally he  sailed  his  big  yacht  in  the  Baltic  and  Black  Seas,  leaving  the 
hard  work  in  the  Moscow  Embassy  to  Loy  Henderson.  But  he  super- 
vised. Once,  in  1937,  while  passing  through  Paris,  he  invited  me  to 
his  flower-laden  apartment  in  the  Ritz  and  asked  me  to  give  him  my 
view  of  purges,  trials,  and  GPU.  He  thought  my  opinion  too  un- 
sympathetic to  Russia  and  we  argued  long  until  Mrs.  Davies  called 
him  to  dinner. 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  309 

When  I  arrived  in  Marseilles  from  Palestine  in  March,  1934,  I 
bought  all  the  British  and  French  newspapers  I  could  find  in  order 
to  catch  up  with  the  news.  One  item  in  the  London  Times  from 
Moscow  startled  me.  Later  the  Soviet  press  confirmed  it.  Christian  G. 
Rakovsky  had  recanted  and  returned  to  Moscow  as  a  Stalin  supporter. 

With  the  perversion  of  a  journalist  who  must  rush  his  opinions 
into  print,  I  suspended  my  study  of  Spain  long  enough  to  write  an 
article  on  Rakovsky's  change  of  heart.  The  Nation,  responsible  for 
most  of  my  titles,  called  it  "The  Tragedy  of  Trotzky."  From  my 
contacts  with  Rakovsky  before  and  during  his  exile  it  was  not  dif- 
ficult for  me  to  comment  on  the  causes  that  had  brought  Rakovsky 
back  from  Siberia  into  a  Popular  Front  with  Stalin. 

In  Saratov,  Rakovsky  was  well  treated.  But  his  adamant  refusal 
to  confess  his  sins  and  accept  Stalin's  leadership  led  to  his  exile  to  a 
hole  in  the  cold  barren  ground  called  Barnaul.  Some  American  pros- 
pectors came  there  once  and  since  Rakovsky  was  the  only  person 
speaking  foreign  languages  he  was  hauled  out  as  their  interpreter. 
When  they  left  they  gave  him  a  dollar  tip.  But  Siberian  conditions 
and  humiliation  could  not  break  Rakovsky.  He  was  made  of  the  stern 
stuff  of  those  who  languished  for  thirty  years  in  Czarist  exile  and  died 
there  rather  than  deviate  from  their  principles. 

In  1928,  he  had  told  me  he  would  always  remain  loyal  to  Trotzky. 
He  insisted  that  Stalin  had  betrayed  the  Soviet  Revolution.  Now  he 
had  returned  to  work  with  Stalin.  I  visited  him  twice  in  his  apart- 
ment in  Moscow, in  1935,  and  Madame  Rakovsky  served  me  tea  as 
she  had  at  Saratov.  I  also  saw  him  three  or  four  times  in  his  office  in 
the  Commissariat  of  Health  where  he  had  taken  over  the  direction  of 
all  the  commissariat's  scientific  research  institutes.  (He  was  a  physi- 
cian by  profession.)  What  I  heard  from  him  in  Moscow  confirmed 
what  I  had  written  in  Madrid.  Exile  had  not  broken  him.  But  he 
looked  out  upon  Europe  from  Barnaul  and  found  no  revolution.  "It 
is  an  indisputable  fact  .  .  .  that  the  world  revolution  is  as  far  away 
as  when  Lenin  and  Trotzky  directed  the  Third  International.  Fas- 
cism .  .  .  creeps  from  country  to  country.  The  intensity  of  human 
distress  is  equalled  only  by  the  ferocity  of  political  reaction.  Europe 
never  looked  so  dark  and  beyond  hope  as  the  present  time.  Yet  Com- 
munism makes  no  headway.  The  Comintern  is  a  dismal  failure."  This 
is  what  I  wrote  from  Madrid.  Coldly  reassessing  the  situation,  I  would 
say  the  same  thing  about  it  today. 

Rakovsky  wrote  from  Barnaul,  "The  differences  which  separate 


310      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

me  from  the  party  lose  their  significance  in  view  of  the  growth  of 
international  reaction."  Hitler  brought  him  back  to  Stalin. 

When  The  Nation  with  my  article  on  Rakovsky  arrived  in  Mos- 
cow, a  Bolshevik  friend  phoned  and  asked  whether  I  knew  Bela  Kun, 
the  ex-dictator  of  Communist  Hungary  and  now  chief  of  the  Comin- 
tern. I  said  I  didn't.  He  said  it  would1  be  interesting  for  me  to  meet 
him.  I  said  I  had  no  objection— but  did  nothing  about  it.  The  next  day 
a  German  acquaintance  phoned  and  asked  whether  I  would  like  to 
see  Bela  Kun.  I  said,  "Yes."  Then  a  bourgeois  foreign  journalist  who 
knew  Kun  came  to  my  apartment  and  asked  me  whether  I  knew 
Bela  Kun,  and  when  I  told  him  no,  he  dialed  my  telephone  and  made 
an  appointment  for  me  with  the  Comintern  leader. 

Kun  had  the  Nation  article  spread  out  in  front  of  him.  He  wa$ 
very  cordial  and  excessively  polite  and  I  hated  it  and  told  him  so. 
He  said,  "You  wrote  'the  Comintern  is  a  dismal  failure.'  " 

"Isn't  it?"  I  demanded.  That  set  a  new  tone  for  our  conversation. 
The  upshot  was  he  wanted  me  to  explain  why  I  thought  the  Comin- 
tern was  a  failure.  I  offered  a  string  of  reasons.  The  Communists  were 
preaching  world  revolution  which  was  not  practical  politics.  They 
preached  it  in  a  language  that  was  translated  from  the  Russian  and 
superimposed  on  Marx's  involved  German  so  that  not  even  intellectu- 
als, let  alone  workingmen,  understood  it.  The  Communists  were 
sectarian  and  dogmatic,  a  sect  with  its  own  Esperanto.  The  Commu- 
nists ignored  national  issues  in  their  own  countries  and  talked  too 
much  about  Soviet  achievements.  This  was  a  matter  of  bad  emphasis, 
not  a  fundamental  error.  The  Communists  had  antagonized  the  labor 
unions  by  organizing  their  unsuccessful  trade-union  international. 
Dual  unionism  weakened  the  workers  in  their  straggle  with  employ- 
ers and  the  workers  resented  this  and  blamed  it  on  Moscow.  The 
Communists  had  two  kinds  of  paint:  red  for  themselves,  black  for 
everybody  else.  Socialists  were  Fascists,  liberals  were  "rotten,"  paci- 
fists were  "a  menace,"  and  so  on.  "This,"  I  said,  "is  pure  bunk." 
"Quatsch"  was  the  word  I  used  in  German.  At  any  rate,  that  was  not 
the  way  to  win  friends  and  make  converts. 

Bela  Kun  agreed  only  about  the  Esperanto.  Yet  about  the  whole 
he  said,  "You  will  see.  We  have  already  decided  to  pursue  a  new 
strategy.  Things  will  change."  Thereafter,  I  saw  Bela  Kun  many 
times.  (He  disappeared  in  the  big  purge.) 

Bela  Kun  was  one  of  the  engineers  of  the  Popular  Front.  I  am  sure 
he  believed  in  it.  In  all  of  the  years  of  the  Comintern's  uncompromis- 


THE  EXTENDED  HAND  311 

ing  revolutionary  attitude  what  depressed  the  Communists  most  was 
their  isolation  from  the  working-class  masses  abroad.  The  Soviet  gov- 
ernment, too,  had  never  really  been  able  to  cement  any  friendship 
with  bourgeois  governments.  Now  Moscow  turned  a  new  leaf  and 
wrote  Popular  Front. 

As  part  of  this  new  mental  attitude,  the  Soviet  government  joined 
the  League  of  Nations  which  it  had  formerly  reviled.  It  offered  mili- 
tary collaboration  to  France  and  Czechoslovakia  and  sought  to  culti- 
vate England  and  the  United  States.  The  League  of  Nations  was 
wedded  to  the  territorial  status  quo  of  Europe.  Russia  now  accepted 
that  status  quo  and  was  ready  to  defend  it. 

The  Popular  Front,  similarly,  was  an  acceptance  of  the  social  status 
quo  in  capitalist  states.  It  meant  not  revolution  but,  instead,  collabora- 
tion with  non-revolutionary  and  reformist  parties  which  wanted 
social  change  by  democratic  means. 

Moscow's  Popular  Front  strategy  was  designed  to  stop  Fascism. 
Unless  the  anti-Fascist  forces  in  England,  France,  and  elsewhere  were 
strongly  organized,  the  appeasers  in  bourgeois  countries  would  make 
concessions  to  Hitler.  The  alternative,  therefore,  was  Popular  Front 
or  appeasement.  The  choice  was:  Oppose  or  appease.  Oppose  meant 
oppose  through  the  Popular  Front  and  in  conjunction  with  Soviet 
Russia,  This  is  what  Bullitt  did  not  understand. 


17-  Appease  or  Oppose 

EUROPE  now  interested  me  more  and  Russk  less.  Europe  was 
on  the  eve,  although  no  one  knew  when  night  would  set  in. 
Soviet  developments  tormented  me.  Economic  conditions  con- 
ditions continued  to  improve  in  the  first  part  of  1936,  but  a  conflict 
was  in  progress  between  a  trend  towards  political  liberalism  and 
another  trend  towards  cruel  repression.  Things  were  happening 
which  made  me  sick  and  kept  my  fingers  out  of  the  typewriter.  I 
preferred  to  wait  before  I  condemned,  at  least  until  I  got  completely 
fed  up.  So  after  only  two  months  at  home  I  sallied  forth  once  more 
in  March,  1936,  and  went  to  Berlin  as  the  first  stop  in  a  journey 
which  I  expected  would  take  me  to  Spain  and  Italy  again. 

Once  when  I  arrived  in  Nazi  Berlin  from  Moscow,  and  got  into 
a  taxi  to  find  the  streets  looking  strangely  empty,  an  idea  suddenly 
occurred  to  me  and  I  said  to  the  driver,  "Is  today  Sunday?"  He  must 
have  thought  I  was  crazy,  and  answered,  "Of  course."  Russk  had 
abolished  Sundays  and  introduced  a  six-day  week,  and  we  therefore 
never  knew  the  days  of  the  week  in  Moscow.  At  first  it  used  to  be 
difficult  to  get  accustomed  to  them  abroad.  In  the  Soviet  Union  the 
days  were  extinguished  by  their  numbers  in  the  month,  not  by  their 
names  in  the  week.  Now  it  was  Sunday  and  everybody  in  Berlin 
would  be  away.  I  had  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Ambassador  Bul- 
litt  to  Ambassador  Dodd,  and  I  was  so  determined  to  present  it  im- 
medktely  that  I  could  not  stop  myself  from  trying.  I  went  straight 
to  the  telephone  and  called  the  United  States  Embassy.  To  the  voice 
which  was  apparently  handling  the  switchboard  that  Sabbath  morn- 
ing I  said,  'Will  you  please  tell  me  how  I  can  reach  the  Ambassa- 
dor?" and  the  voice  replied,  "This  is  Mr.  Dodd."  I  drove  without 
delay  to  the  Embassy. 

A  southern  Jeffersonkn  democrat,  William  E.  Dodd  was  naturally 
anti-Nazi.  While  teaching  in  the  University  of  Chicago,  he  was  called 
to  the  telephone  one  day  by  President  Roosevelt,  who  asked  him  to 
be  Ambassador  to  Berlin.  Mr.  Dodd  could  not  have  been  more  sur- 
prised than  any  one  of  several  hundred  distinguished  history  pro- 

312 


APPEASE  OR  OPPOSE  313 

f  essors  in  American  colleges  who  had  never  been  in  politics  and  never 
came  near  diplomacy.  Dodd  was  the  antithesis  of  a  diplomat  because 
he  said  what  he  thought.  He  told  Adolf  Hitler  in  person  what  he 
thought  and  it  amounted  to  a  scorching  denunciation  of  the  Fascist 
dictatorship.  He  was  equally  opposed  to  all  forms  of  dictatorship 
and  discoursed  passionately  on  Thomas  Jefferson. 

In  Nazi  eyes,  the  Ambassador's  disinclination  to  entertain  them 
and  shake  their  hands  made  him  "peculiar."  But  he  knew  his  busi- 
ness; indeed  the  President  had  told  him  what  his  business  was  by 
appointing  him.  To  send  Professor  Dodd  to  Berlin  was  a  slap  at 
Hitler.  The  Ambassador  found  it  all  the  more  difficult  to  understand 
how  American  oil  companies  were  permitted  to  build  aviation  oil 
refineries  for  the  German  government  at  Hamburg  when  he  knew 
they  would  be  used  by  Goering's  aggressive  bombers.  Nor  could  he 
approve  when  the  Uiuted^ 

ties  of  magnesjum^which  die  Nazis  were  converting  into  airplanes 
and  aenS^bombs.^ Douglas  Miller,  the  United  States  commercial 
attache  in  Berlin,  America's  best  expert  on  German  economic  condi- 
tions, and  no  less  anti-Nazi  than  Mr.  Dodd,  supplied  the  Embassy 
with  the  data  on  American  participation  in  Germany's  rearmament, 
and  Mr.  Dodd  would  pound  these  reports  with  his  bony  finger  and 
declaim  against  the  unwisdom  of  nurturing  Germany  to  military 
greatness. 

The  Ambassador  was  kept  well-informed  by  highly  placed  Ger- 
man officials  who  were  none  too  pro-Nazi,  and  also  by  non-Germans. 
On  March  6,  1936,  I  saw  him  in  his  residence  and  he  told  me  that 
Hitler  would  speak  to  the  Reichstag  the  next  day  and  announce  some 
great  event,  probably  a  Reichswehr  advance  into  the  Rhineland.  The 
next  day  Hitler  convoked  the  Reichstag. 

Berlin  hung  out  all  its  flags,  and  soldiers  and  secret  police  patrolled 
the  center  of  the  city.  The  short  distance  between  the  Chancellor's 
palace  and  the  Reichstag  meeting  place  was  black  with  people,  mostly 
uniformed  guards,  but  also  some  spectators.  I  posted  myself  in  front 
of  the  Adlon  Hotel  on  Unter  den  Linden  to  see  Hitler  go  by.  Down 
the  entire  length  of  the  street  stood  S.S.  men  in  black  suits.  They 
stood  arm  to  arm  and  shoulder  to  shoulder  forming  a  solid  human 
wall  facing  the  street.  Back  to  back  with  these  men  stood  another 
human  wall  facing  the  houses.  The  same  arrangement  was  repeated 
on  the  other  side  of  the  cordon  through  which  Hitler's  car  would 
pass.  Suddenly  they  all  sprang  to  attention.  From  the  shouting  I 


314      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

knew  Hitler  approached.  Now  I  had  my  own  little  problem.  There 
were  of  course  secret  service  men  among  the  foreigners  who  watched 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Adlon.  There  might  also  be  an  assassin.  To  be 
above  suspicion  I  felt  that  I  had  to  keep  my  hands  out  of  my  pockets. 
But  a  person  who  fired  at  Hitler  might  drop  his  revolver  into  my 
jacket  pocket  or,  to  get  me  into  trouble  by  provocation,  the  police 
might  put  a  weapon  into  my  pocket.  I  knew  from  experience  that 
the  police  in  a  dictatorship  are  always  very  nervous  when  the  dic- 
tator exposes  himself  to  the  public.  Harry  Jaff  e,  an  American  radi- 
cal, was  once  pounced  upon  by  a  GPU  agent  because  he  pushed 
in  order  to  get  a  closer  view  of  Stalin.  They  found  nothing  on  him 
and  he  was  released  a  few  hours  later,  but  Jaff  e  really  never  lived  it 
down.  Nor  did  I  know  that  the  Gestapo  would  be  as  gentle  with  me 
or  that  it  would  not  wish  to  seize  me  on  this  propitious  occasion.  In 
any  case,  once  arrested  for  an  invalid  reason  they  might  invent  an- 
other reason  to  keep  me.  I  pondered  the  alternatives.  I  folded  my 
arms  on  my  chest,  but  that  left  my  pockets  open.  Hands  behind 
my  back  did  not  clearly  demonstrate  innocence  or  inactivity.  (Later 
an  American  friend  told  me  he  went  through  the  same  calculations 
himself.)  Finally  I  had  the  solution.  I  clasped  my  body  tightly  at  the 
waist  with  my  elbows— that  took  care  of  my  jacket  pockets.  My  fore- 
arms covered  my  trouser  pockets  and  I  locked  my  fingers  on  my 
abdomen.  It  felt  uncomfortable  but  it  lasted  only  a  moment,  for 
Hitler's  automobile,  with  armed  sleuths  on  the  running  boards,  dashed 
by  in  two  seconds  as  he  gave  the  arm-erect  salute  sitting  in  the  back 
of  the  car.  I  went  immediately  down  the  block  and  heard  Hitler's 
speech  on  the  radio  in  the  Soviet  Ambassador's  private  apartment. 
Ambassador  Suritz  was  very  gloomy. 

That  day  opened  a  new  era  in  European  history.  On  that  day,  the 
German  army  took  over  the  Rhineland.  By  the  Treaty  of  Versailles 
this  area  was  demilitarized.  But  it  had  been  a  forced  peace  agreement. 
By  the  treaties  of  Locarno,  Germany  voluntarily  accepted  the  de- 
militarization of  the  Rhineland,  and  then  Hitler  specifically  sub- 
scribed to  it.  Now  Germany  broke  her  word  and  sent  troops  into 
the  Rhineland. 

March  7,  1936,  was  Hitler's  first  lunge  towards  world  conquest. 
How  did  the  powers  deal  with  this  new  phenomenon  of  Germany 
defiant?  Plenty  of  people  in  England  and  France,  especially  the  latter, 
demanded  that  France  mobilize  and  march  into  the  Rhineland.  They 
realized  that  a  fortified  Rhineland  would  put  all  France's  eastern 


APPEASE  OR  OPPOSE  315 

friends  at  the  mercy  of  Berlin.  For  if  Germany  had  a  western  wall, 
France  could  not  come  to  the  direct  assistance  of  Poland,  Czecho- 
slovakia, and  Austria.  The  whole  system  of  French  continental  he- 
gemony depended  on  France's  ability  to  attack  Germany  effectively 
in  the  West  in  the  event  of  German  offensive  action  in  the  East.  In 
1919,  Marshal  Foch  even  wanted  France  to  take  the  left  German 
bank  of  the  Rhine.  He  said,  "Whoever  is  not  on  the  Rhine  has  lost 
everything."  But  the  civilians  of  the  British  and  French  governments 
disagreed. 

And  now,  Germany  had  re-established  the  Watch  on  the  Rhine. 

It  has  been  stated  on  the  best  authority,  and  accepted  as  true  by 
statesmen,  diplomats,  and  publicists,  that  the  German  officers  who 
led  the  Reichswehr  into  the  Rhineland  had  orders  to  retire  if  they 
met  an  advancing  French  force.  It  has  even  been  stated,  with  less 
authenticity,  that  the  German  soldiers  carried  no  ammunition.  But 
this  information  is  really  unnecessary.  The  French  army  could  easily 
have  repelled  the  German  army  in  March,  1936.  The  Reichswehr 
numbered  only  100,000  plus  the  first  year's  conscripted  recruits,  and 
Hitler's  air  force  and  armored  divisions  were  in  embryo. 

The  French  cabinet  decided,  lukewarmly,  to  take  military  action. 
But  first  they  consulted  the  British.  Perhaps  they  consulted  the  Brit- 
ish knowing  that  the  result  would  be  negative. 

Pierre-Etienne  Flandin,  French  Foreign  Minister  at  the  time  of  the 
Rhineland  occupation,  revealed  history  in  an  article  in  the  London 
Sunday  Times,  March  26,  1939.  "The  French  government,"  he  de- 
clared, "had  informed  Great  Britain  that  it  proposed  to  resist  by 
force;  it  raised  no  question  of  British  intervention  in  an  action  which 
it  intended  to  take  for  its  own  account." 

This  is  pretty  definite.  France  decided  to  act.  French  public  opin- 
ion was  divided,  but  the  government  was  resolved  to  stop  the  remili- 
tarization of  the  German  border  province.  England  was  not  asked  to 
participate,  but  simply  to  approve. 

"But,"  wrote  Flandin,  "the  British  government,  faithfully  reflect- 
ing its  own  public  opinion,  and  profoundly  imbued  with  the  princi- 
ple of  the  equality  of  rights  of  aU  the  peoples,  and  imagining  that  all 
peoples  were  equally  inclined  to  observe  the  principle  of  right  and 
justice,  asked  the  French  government  to  renounce  this  policy." 

England  asked  France  not  to  march  into  the  Rhineland.  "It  will 
be  possible  to  find  later,  in  the  records  of  the  Quai  d'Orsay,  the  proof 
that  France  warned  England  at  that  moment  of  all  that  might  happen 


316      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

in  Europe.  Much  of  the  French  prediction  has  unfortunately  come 

«  • 


true." 


Flandin  could  never  have  written  this  in  a  British  newspaper  if 
there  were  any  doubt  about  the  truth  of  his  statements.  The  Germans 
have  now  read  those  records  in  the  Quai  d'Orsay  although  they  knew 
in  advance  what  was  in  them.  The  French  prediction  dealt  with  the 
difficulty  of  defending  Austria,  Czechoslovakia,  and  Poland  after 
Germany  had  fortified  the  Rhineland.  This  being  the  case,  the  British 
should  not  have  held  France  back. 

Having  remilitarized  the  Rhineland,  Hitler  started  building  the 
Siegfried  Line.  That  predetermined  the  fate  of  the  French  continen- 
tal system  of  little  allies.  Czechoslovakia's  life-line  ran  from  Prague 
across  Germany  and  the  Rhineland  to  Strasbourg  and  thence  to  Paris. 
On  March  7,  1936,  Hitler  moved  into  a  position  where  he  could  cut 
it.  The  chapter  that  ended  with  Adolf  Hitler  touring  the  sights  of 
Paris  opened  four  years  earlier  in  the  Rhineland.  The  Rhineland  epi- 
sode is  the  watershed  in  the  history  of  Europe  between  the  two  wars. 
After  that,  Germany  gained  one  advantage  after  the  other. 

Then  why  did  die  French  do  nothing?  Where  was  the  French 
instinct  of  self-preservation?  Observers  would  ask  that  question  from 
the  spring  of  1936  to  the  spring  of  1940.  If  war  had  come  in  March, 
1936,  France  would  have  won  easily.  Germany  would  have  been 
attacked  by  France,  Czechoslovakia,  Poland,  and  probably  Russia. 
That  might  have  been  the  end  of  Fascist  aggression— not  only  in 
Europe. 

Later  in  1936,  1937,  and  1938,  when  Spain,  Austria,  and  Czecho- 
slovakia were  at  stake,  the  appeasers  said,  "We  are  not  prepared.  We 
are  too  weak.  We  cannot  fight  now."  That  this  was  only  a  part-truth 
and,  really,  a  lame  excuse,  becomes  clear  from  the  Rhineland  affair. 
For  in  the  spring  of  1936,  France  alone  was  much  stronger  than 
Germany.  Appeasement  was  never  a  matter  of  a  weak  arm  but  of  a 
weak  brain. 

Why  did  Paris  look  on  supinely? 

One  of  the  answers  is  England.  (There  -is  rarely  one  answer  to  a 
political  question.)  "Versailles  had  left  a  bad  taste"  in  the  British 
mouth.  Hitler,  the  British  said,  was  eliminating  one  of  the  treaty's 
least  defensible  provisions. 

France,  to  be  sure,  could  have  stopped  Hitler  without  British  aid. 
But  the  French  had  occupied  the  Rhineland  once  before.  They  had 
punitively  marched  into  the  Ruhr  in  1923.  They  had  insisted  on  the 


APPEASE  OR  OPPOSE  317 

pound  of  reparations  flesh  from  Germany.  The  result  was  nil.  The 
Poincare  method  had  to  be  abandoned  because  in  the  long  run  it  was 
objectionable.  In  1936,  the  French  government  was  not  prepared  to 
revert  to  the  crude  anti-Germanism  of  the  Stresemann  and  Rathenau 
periods.  It  had  turned  over  a  new  leaf.  The  treatment  France  should 
have  meted  out  to  republican  Germany,  it  accorded  Nazi  Germany. 
France  now  was  in  a  defensive,  unaggressive  mood.  Germany  could 
not  be  destroyed  forever.  Pacifism  was  sweeping  France.  Even  the 
defensive  spirit  limped.  The  first  World  War  had  been  a  disappoint- 
ment. It  had  brought  some  territorial  acquisitions  and  some  indemni- 
ties, but  even  this  costliest  of  all  wars,  in  which  France  had  bled  her- 
self white,  had  not  rid  France  of  the  eternal  German  menace.  Maybe 
it  could  not  be  done  by  warlike  means.  In  any  case,  Germany  under 
Hitler  had  launched  out  on  a  new  career  of  militarism.  If  France  had 
seized  the  Rhineland  and  then  marched  out  again  it  would  have  been 
worse  than  nothing  for  it  would  only  have  irritated  the  Germans. 
Was  France  then  to  march  in  and  plow  up  the  whole  country  and 
occupy  Berlin  before  the  Nazis  reached  their  militaristic  goal?  Not 
a  single  French  leader  advocated  such  action.  France  had  no  stomach 
for  life-and-death  combats.  Could  not  a  peaceful  settlement  be 
reached?  Any  delay  of  the  ultimate  struggle  was  desirable.  Another 
day  lived  is  a  day  gained.  Most  Frenchmen  probably  took  the  fatal- 
istic view  that  some  day  they  would  have  to  meet  Germany  again 
on  the  battlefield.  Then  the  later  the  better;  in  the  meanwhile,  rein- 
force the  Maginot  Line.  For  that  final  test  of  strength,  Anglo-French 
collaboration  was  necessary.  Britain  must  not  be  unalterably  alienated. 
France  decided  not  to  over-ride  the  British  veto  and  act  alone:  Hav- 
ing angered  England  by  taking  Italy's  side  in  Abyssinia,  France's 
chief  purpose  was  now  to  worm  itself  back  into  the  good  graces  of 
the  British  public. 

But  that  was  only  part  of  the  story.  Just  as  Hitler  had  won  friends 
in  high  British  circles,  so  he  found  defenders  in  important  French 
groups.  Hitler's  chief  aim  in  life,  they  contented,  was  to  crush  Bol- 
shevism. He  had  repeatedly  assured  French  journalists  and  politicians 
that  he  had  no  ambitions  in  the  West.  M em  Kampf?  Yes,  but  that 
was  merely  a  propaganda  book  written  by  a  young  man  in  prison. 
Had  not  Hitler  forever  renounced  all  claim  to  Alsace  and  Lorraine? 
Of  course,  his  remilitarization  of  the  Rhineland  opened  rather  un- 
pleasant possibilities.  But  perhaps  it  was  not  really  as  bad  as  it  looked. 
If  Hider  marched  on  Russia,  as  they  hoped  he  would,  he  had  to 


318      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

cover  himself  in  die  Rhineland  against  an  attack  from  the  West. 
Instead  of  enraging  Hitler  by  signing  military  treaties  with  the  Bol- 
sheviks, France  should  encourage  him  to  concentrate  on  the  East; 
then  France  would  be  relieved  of  pressure  and  danger.  If  Hitler  at- 
tacked and  defeated  Soviet  Russia  it  would  be  the  end  of  Communism 
in  France.  French  anti-Communists  should  therefore  encourage  Hit- 
ler in  his  anti-Bolshevism.  If  France,  on  the  contrary,  whipped  up 
anti-Fascist  sentiment  as  a  preliminary  to  resistance  to  Hitler,  and  to 
Mussolini,  that  would  be  wind  in  the  sails  of  the  French  left.  A  vic- 
tory over  Hitler  would  weaken  Fascist  tendencies  and  reactionary 
forces  in  France. 

There  can  be  no  divorce  between  foreign  policy  and  domestic 
conditions.  The  domestic  situations  in  the  democracies  always  helped 
Hitler  and  the  other  aggressors.  By  precipitate  action  in  the  Rhine- 
land,  Hitler  had  deepened  the  disunity  with  France.  It  would  not  be 
the  last  time. 

Laval  and  the  reactionaries  had  defied  England  and  acted  against 
England  in  the  Ethiopian  affair.  Now  these  same  reactionaries  made 
teamwork  with  Great  Britain  the  keystone  of  their  politics.  If  Eng- 
land opposes  our  marching  into  the  Rhineland,  they  contended,  we 
must  not  do  it.  This  looked  like  a  pro-British  attitude.  It  was  actually 
a  pro-German  attitude. 

So  instead  of  doing  something  about  the  Rhineland,  and  because 
they  did  not  intend  to  do  anything,  they  called  the  League  of  Na- 
tions together  to  deliberate  on  what  to  do.  The  League  Council 
would  meet  in  London  on  March  1 3.  By  assembling  in  London  rather 
than  in  Geneva,  the  French  politicians  furnished  themselves  with  an 
alibi.  They  had  been  coerced  by  the  British,  they  would  say.  You 
could  not  be  impolite  to  your  host.  The  French  put  themselves  in 
the  British  hand,  and  King  Edward  VIII,  reputed  to  be  pro-German, 
lent  one  of  his  own  palaces  for  the  purpose.  I  went  to  London  along 
with  that  swarm  of  international  correspondents  that  swoops  down 
wherever  the  statesmen  foregather. 

Royal  palaces  were  not  built  to  accommodate  hundreds  of  work- 
ing journalists  and  only  a  few  of  us  could  stand  at  the  entrance  of 
the  chamber  where  the  delegates-Eden  for  England,  Flandin  for 
France,  Litvinov  for  Russia,  Beck  for  Poland,  Ribbentrop  for  Ger- 
many-sat at  a  horseshoe  table.  A  few  others  could  see  and  the  re- 
mainder had  to  listen  to  the  amplifiers  in  the  rear  rooms.  When  Rib- 
bentrop spoke  I  was  among  the  five  or  six  at  the  door,  and  at  that 


APPEASE  OR  OPPOSE  319 

vantage  point  I  was  about  twenty  feet  removed  from  the  delegates. 
Ribbentrop  was  nervous  and  pale.  Litvinov  wore  a  studied  look  of 
contempt  and  read  a  newspaper  while  Ribbentrop  spoke.  When  Rib- 
bentrop sat  down  it  was  obvious  that  the  League  would  do  nothing. 

After  the  session,  the  delegates  came  out  into  the  corridors,  and 
then  statesmen,  journalists,  and  distinguished  visitors  milled  around 
in  one  thick  mass.  It  was  in  these  intervals  that  newspapermen  posed 
questions  to  the  delegates  and  exchanged  views  among  themselves. 
The  evening  before,  walking  down  Whitehall,  I  had  met  Dorothy 
Woodman,  an  Englishwoman,  Parliamentary  Labor  candidate,  vege- 
tarian, pacifist,  and  dynamic  revolutionist.  She  was  accompanied  by 
Senator  Georg  Branting,  Swedish  Socialist,  for  whose  daily  paper, 
Sozialdemokraten  I  wrote  irregularly.  In  the  interval  that  followed 
Ribbentrop's  speech  I  walked  up  to  a  man,  extended  my  hand  which 
he  took,  and  said,  "Hello,  Branting." 

The  man  said,  "I  am  Ribbentrop." 

I  quickly  dropped  the  Nazi's  hand  and  turned  on  my  heel  almost 
straight  into  Beck's  arms.  He  must  have  thought  I  had  been  talking 
to  Ribbentrop  for  he  seemed  anxious  to  stop  and  chat  with  me.  I 
declared  that  it  was  an  outrage  to  take  this  thing  lying  down  and  he 
replied,  "We  can  do  nothing  alone,"  which  in  diplomatic  language 
meant  that  Poland  had  been  prepared  to  take  steps  if  France  did.  I 
think  that  was  the  case.  Nobody  could  do  anything  alone  and  there- 
fore they  did  nothing  collectively.  Nobody  could  do  anything  alone 
except  Germany.  After  Beck  went  off  I  was  introduced  to  Madame 
Genevieve  Tabouis,  French  journalist,  whom  I  met  often  in  later 
years,  and  listened  to  sharp  quips  from  an  Englishwoman  acquaint- 
ance who  wrote  biting  political  verse  in  the  N&w  Statesman  and 
Nation  under  the  pseudonym  of  Sagittarius.  Most  of  the  journalists 
were  very  cynical  about  "die  mighty  French"  and  "the  bloody  Brit- 
ish" and  the  "great  League  of  Nations." 

I  saw  Litvinov  in  the  Soviet  Embassy  where  he  was  living.  He  said, 
"The  British  have  paid  the  French  back  for  not  supporting  them  on 
Ethiopia."  After  Abyssinia,  the  Rhineland.  "A  few  more  blows  like 
this,"  he  said,  "and  where  is  the  League  of  Nations? " 

Several  times  I  left  the  sessions  with  Marcel  Rosenberg,  Russian 
assistant  secretary  of  the  League  of  Nations,  Gershelman,  Litvinov's 
private  secretary,  and  Rosenblum,  Litvinov's  aide  on  commercial 
treaties.  "Your  good  life  is  ending,"  they  twitted  Rosenberg.  They 
felt  the  League  was  doomed  after  its  failure  on  the  Rhineland.  I 


320      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

walked  around  with  Rosenberg  for  a  time  after  the  other  two  left  us 
and  then  we  went  into  seven  stores— we  counted— until,  on  the  Strand, 
Rosenberg  found  exactly  the  pair  of  yellow  suede  gloves  that  suited 
him. 

Among  most  of  my  Liberal  and  Labor  friends  in  London  the  senti- 
ment was  that  it  would  be  unjust  to  prevent  Germany  from  exercis- 
ing full  sovereignty  in  the  Rhineland.  In  abstract  reason,  of  course. 
But  practical  politics  must  consider  consequences  and  not  only  ethics. 
Germany's  remilitarization  of  the  Rhineland  was  ethical,  the  results 
were  most  unethical— the  results  were  the  seizure  of  Austria,  the 
crushing  of  Czechoslovakia,  the  war  on  Poland,  the  war  on  France. 
But  no  one  saw  that  far  although  many  of  us  were  beginning  to  say, 
more  and  more,  "Fascism  is  War."  Leland  Stowe  wrote  a  book  with 
that  title. 

The  more  immediate  effects  of  Hitler's  march  into  the  Rhineland 
were  a  change  in  the  foreign  policy  of  Poland,  which  now  com- 
menced to  feel  still  more  at  home  within  the  German  orbit,  and  a 
change  in  Belgium's  foreign  policy.  On  October  14,  1936,  young 
Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians,  startled  Europe  by  announcing  a 
future  attitude  of  neutrality  as  between  Germany  and  France.  This 
looked  like  non-partisanship.  But  actually  it  implied  that  Belgium 
would  be  equally  friendly  towards  Germany  which  might  attack  her 
and  to  France  which  could  only  defend  her.  France  having  disclosed 
her  weakness,  the  League  having  proved  its  bankruptcy,  Belgium  had 
decided  that  it  could  not  antagonize  Germany  by  being  too  pro- 
French.  Consternation  ruled  in  Paris.  The  French  and  Belgium  gen- 
eral staffs  could  now  no  longer  consult  as  they  had  in  the  past  under 
the  Franco-Belgian  military  treaty.  These  consultations  were  not  re- 
sumed until  December,  1939,  when  Belgium  feared  imminent  inva- 
sion, when  the  Battle  of  Flanders  was  not  far  off.  But  generals  cannot 
repair  in  six  months  what  was  lost  in  three  years.  In  1936,  France 
commenced  losing  the  battles  of  1939  and  1940.  In  19,36,  France 
should  have  commenced  extending  the  Maginot  Line  to  the  sea.  It 
did  not. 

March  7,  1936,  also  made  the  Italo-German  axis  a  black  reality. 
Hitler  delivered  his  blow  in  the  Rhineland  while  the  British  were 
engrossed  in  the  Abyssinian  affair.  The  British  did  not  want  to  quar- 
rel with  Germany  and  Italy  at  the  same  time.  Nor  did  the  French 
want  to  quarrel  with  Mussolini  when  they  saw  Hitler  approaching. 
This  demonstrated  to  the  two  dictators  the  virtues  of  synchronization 


APPEASE  OR  OPPOSE  321 

and  co-operation.  Anglo-French  irresolution  in  Abyssinia  reinforced 
Hitler's  resolve  to  take  the  Rhineland.  The  mild  reception  accorded 
in  London  and  Paris  to  this  epochal  event  told  the  axis  powers  that 
they  could  go  further.  The  conviction  that  Germany  "could  get 
away  with  it"  encouraged  those  Nazis  who  believed  in  circuses  when 
there  is  too  little  bread. 

Hitler  in  the  Rhineland  was  a  blow  to  the  French  Right  which 
was  in  office  at  the  time  but  did  nothing  to  check  him.  The  anti- 
Fascist  Left  made  political  capital  out  of  this.  France  wanted  a  new 
deal  at  home  and  abroad.  The  new-born  moderation  of  the  Commu- 
nists had  produced  a  real  Popular  Front,  and  the  Left  entered  the 
parliamentary  elections  with  bright  hopes.  Balloting  took  place  on 
two  successive  rainy  Sundays,  April  26  and  May  3,  1936. 

I  was  impressed  by  the  way  the  French  cast  their  ballots.  They 
came,  husbands  often  with  their  wives,  as  though  to  perform  a  solemn 
religious  rite.  This  civic  duty  obviously  meant  something  very  impor- 
tant to  them,  and  as  I  went  in  pouring  rain  from  a  rich  district  in  the 
center  of  Paris  to  one  of  the  proletarian  faubourgs  and  then  to  a 
middle-class  arrondissement  my  feeling  grew  that  love  of  democracy 
lived  in  France.  I  could  not  help  thinking  back  to  my  youth  in  Phila- 
delphia. My  family  resided  at  one  time  on  south  Sixth  Street  in  the 
heart  of  one  of  Bill  Vare's  solidest  wards.  He  had  contracts  to  collect 
ashes  and  keep  the  city  clean,  but  if  he  did  keep  the  city  clean, 
which  was  doubtful,  it  was  in  the  streets  and  not  in  its  politics.  On 
normal  election  days  my  father  received  two  dollars  for  his  vote,  but 
in  years  when  there  was  a  sharp  contest  the  price  went  up  to  five 
dollars.  Such  an  amount  bulked  in  the  family  budget  and  we  all  knew 
about  it.  Election  day  to  me  brought  not  only  big  bonfires  for  which 
we  boys  collected  old  mattresses,  planks,  boxes,  from  the  entire  neigh- 
borhood, but  also  a  little  extra  food  and  perhaps  a  nickel  in  my 
pocket.  Democratic  politics  are  never  immune  from  unscrupulous 
politicians,  and  there  were  notorious  cases  in  which  votes  were  pur- 
chased in  France  too.  But  not  as  a  regular  procedure,  and  then  on  a 
limited  scale.  In  England  and  in  republican  Germany  it  would  have 
been  altogether  inconceivable. 

The  elections  gave  the  Popular  Front  a  decisive  majority  in  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  on  June  5,  1936,  L6on  Blum  became 
Premier.  By  elevating  him  to  its  highest  administrative  office  French 
democracy  was  defying  Hitler,  for  Blum  was  both  Jew  and  Socialist. 


322      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

He  enjoyed  the  parliamentary  support  of  the  Radical  Socialists  to 
the  Right  of  him  and  the  Communists  on  his  Left. 

Blum  had  an  anti-Nazi  mandate.  The  French  electorate  was  tired 
of  French  kowtowing  to  Fascist  aggressors.  It  was  tired  of  Fascist 
Leagues  at  home  too.  The  attempt  on  Blum's  life  in  February  had 
roused  Paris  to  a  white  heat  of  anger.  Now  a  Left  government  had 
taken  office  to  end  such  things.  The  Popular  Front  had  triumphed. 
It  had  triumphed  in  Spain  too  at  about  the  same  time.  These  two 
regimes  were  destined  to  be  tragically  interlinked. 

The  job  of  Blum  and  the  French  Popular  Front  was  to  arm  against 
Fascist  aggressors.  But  Blum  introduced  radical  social  reforms  and 
improved  the  status  of  labor.  That  antagonized  the  French  capitalist 
class.  It  was  determined  to  overthrow  him.  It  resisted  everything  he 
tried  to  do.  It  resisted  his  rearmament  efforts. 

After  the  Rhineland,  France  should  have  armed  feverishly.  It  failed 
to  do  so. 

After  the  Rhineland,  France  should  have  cultivated  Russia.  For 
since  the  French  army,  even  had  it  wished,  would  have  experienced 
difficulty  in  getting  through  the  German  fortifications  in  the  Rhine- 
land  to  help  Austria,  Czechoslovakia,  and  Poland,  these  little  coun- 
tries needed  a  big  friend  on  the  other  side  of  Europe,  and  the  only 
friend  available  was  Soviet  Russia.  It  was  the  national  duty  of  France 
to  cement  the  bonds  with  Moscow  and  include  Russia  in  the  French 
defense  system.  Russia  had  announced  her  readiness  to  co-operate. 
But  the  French  bourgeoisie  opposed  this.  And  soon  Spain  became 
an  additional  stumbling  block  toward  good  relations  between  France 
and  Russia. 


i8.  Before  the  Battle 

IN  London  I  made  an  arrangement  with  Sydney  R.  Elliott,  of 
"Reynolds  N&ws  to  send  weekly  messages  by  cable  or  telephone 
from  any  place  I  visited.  Reynolds  is  a  large-circuktion  Sunday 
newspaper  published  by  the  British  co-operative  movement.  It  would 
pay  me  thirteen  pounds  per  story.  With  my  other  sources  of  income 
this  promised  to  make  me  rich,  and  I  opened  a  checking  account  with 
a  London  bank.  For  I  had  been  developing  a  personal  syndicate 
which  took  the  form  of  mailing  eight  or  nine  carbon  copies  of  my 
Nation  articles  to  publications  in  various  European  countries.  The 
London  New  Statesman  and  Nation  printed  many  of  them,  so  did 
the  Paris  L'Europe  Nouvelle,  a  Prague  daily,  a  paper  in  Oslo,  one  in 
Stockholm,  and  the  Prague  German  refugee  weekly,  Weltbuehne. 
Sometimes  I  placed  contributions  in  Holland  and  Belgium  too.  At 
times  the  total  income  from  one  article  amounted  to  $250.  Now  I  had 
Reynolds  in  addition. 

On  my  arrival  in  Madrid  I  wanted  to  make  good  with  Reynolds 
and  sought  an  interview  with  Prime  Minister  Manuel  Azafia.  I  asked 
Alvarez  del  Vayo,  the  Socialist  deputy,  to  speak  to  Azafia.  Azafia 
had  read  my  write-up  of  our  talk  in  1934.  At  that  time  I  had  laughed 
when  he  told  me  it  required  eighteen  months  to  write  a  land  law, 
and  I  said  in  my  article  that  I  had  laughed.  When  del  Vayo  spoke 
to  him,  Azafia  said,  "Ah,  Fischer,  the  man  who  laughed  at  me!  But 
not  more  than  I  laugh  at  myself.  Let  him  come."  He  fixed  the  date 
of  Aprils  1936. 

Constancia  de  la  Mora,  who  kter  wrote  In  Place  of  Splendor,  con- 
sented to  act  as  my  interpreter.  I  had  met  her  at  the  del  Vayos'  and 
at  the  Araquistains*.  She  was  a  handsome  dark  Spanish  woman,  in 
revolt  against  her  aristocratic,  Catholic  upbringing,  who  ran  an  an- 
tique and  folk-art  shop  opposite  the  Cortes.  Her  grandfather  was  a 
Maura  and  a  Prime  Minister  of  Spain;  her  husband,  Ignacio  Hidalgo 
de  Cisneros,  served  in  the  Spanish  air  force  and,  she  told  me,  slept 
at  the  airfield  several  times  a  week  lest  the  Fascist  pilots  seize  it  as 
part  of  a  reactionary  insurrection.  Constancia  was  an  excellent  trans- 

323 


324      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

later  because  she  spoke  English  perfectly  and  understood  the  political 
subject  matter  as  well. 

Everything  Azana  said  he  allowed  me  to  publish— except  the  most 
interesting  and  piquant  part  of  the  interview. 

The  following  is  what  I  suppressed,  at  his  bidding.  I  said:  "Why 
don't  you  purge  the  army?" 

"Why?"  he  asked,  feigning  innocence. 

I  said:  "Some  of  the  generals  are  opposed  to  your  government." 

"No,"  Azafia  assured  me,  "they  are  all  my  friends." 

"A  few  nights  ago  there  were  tanks  on  the  streets  and  you  were 
in  the  Ministry  of  Interior  on  the  Puerta  del  Sol  until  two  in  the 
morning.  You  must  have  feared  a  revolt." 

He  denied  it  and  attributed  his  presence  there  to  another  reason. 

I  told  him  I  had  heard  stories  of  impending  trouble  by  army  gen- 
erals. 

"That  is  cafe  gossip,"  he  laughed. 

I  said  I  had  heard  it  in  the  Cortes. 

"Ah,"  Azafia  declared,  "that's  a  big  caf6." 

"Besides,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought  and  with  a  smile,  "if  it  were 
true  I  wouldn't  admit  it  to  you." 

He  knew  I  knew  and  I  knew  he  knew  that  the  chiefs  of  the  army 
were  up  to  something.  Azafia,  in  fact,  took  the  ineffective  precaution 
of  shifting  some  of  the  most  powerful  and  least  dependable  generals. 
Franco  was  moved  from  Madrid  to  the  Canary  Islands,  Goded  to 
the  Balearic  Islands  and  Mola  to  the  Navarre  province  in  Northern 
Spain.  From  these  new  posts  they  plotted  the  rebellion  far  from  the 
eyes  of  the  central  authorities  in  the  capital.  If  Azafia  had  arrested 
thirty  disloyal  generals,  a  million  Spaniards  might  not  have  died  in 
the  war  of  1936-39,  and  the  country  would  not  have  been  ruined, 
and  Fascism  would  not  have  been  encouraged  to  make  new  sallies 
against  free  countries.  But  Azafia  was  a  liberal  democrat  and  Spain 
was  a  liberal  democracy,  and  Spaniards  said  they  do  not  kill  in  cold 
blood. 

Azafia,  however,  went  so  far  as  to  admit  that  the  moment  was  seri- 
ous. He  said,  "The  reactionaries  of  the  Right  have  lost  the  capacity 
to  rule  Spain*  They  are  half -republican,  half-monarchist  and  they 
agree  among  themselves  only  upon  the  necessity  of  squeezing  labor 
and  perpetuating  outmoded  forms  of  land  ownership  and  industrial 
management.  They  provoked  the  Asturias  uprising  in  autumn,  1934, 
in  order  to  justify  draconic  measures  against  the  Left.  They  brushed 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  325 

aside  the  Constitution.  As  a  result,  we  republicans  were  convinced 
that  we  would  all  be  condemned  to  destruction  unless  the  terror  of 
the  Right  ended  soon.  The  fruit  of  the  conviction  was  the  Popular 
Front  which  brought  this  cabinet  into  office." 

On  February  16,  1936,  the  Popular  Front  had  won  the  national 
elections.  It  was  not  the  first  time  and  probably  will  not  be  the  last 
time  in  a  Latin  country,  however,  that  the  losing  side  disputed  the 
election  figures.  The  Right,  defeated  by  ballots,  decided  on  bullets. 
Planning  commenced  immediately. 

On  election  day,  Portela  Valladares  was  Prime  Minister  of  Spain. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  war,  he  sided  with  Franco.  When  the  Italo- 
German  invasion  of  his  native  land  became  too  much  for  him,  this 
tall,  thin  man  with  curly  gray  hair  returned  to  his  people  and  sided 
with  the  Loyalists.  I  heard  horn  tell  the  October  i,  1937,  session  of 
the  Cortes  in  Valencia  that  when  the  deputies  before  whom  he  stood 
were  "legally  elected"  on  February  16,  1936,  leaders  of  the  Right 
came  to  him  and  sought  to  dissuade  him  from  surrendering  his  office 
to  Azafia.  The  Right  wanted  Portela  to  ignore  the  democratic  ver- 
dict. He  refused.  They  thereupon  prepared  to  use  other  means. 

I  asked  Azafia  how  he  proposed  to  rob  the  reactionaries  of  their 
power  to  keep  the  hands  of  the  clock  from  moving.  He  outlined  a 
mild  land  reform.  He  would  strive  to  maintain  the  Popular  Front 
fusion  ticket  intact  and,  for  the  rest,  he  would  see.  "The  only  Span- 
iard whose  views  are  always  right  is  Azafia,"  he  suggested  with  an 
unliberal  immodesty.  "If  all  Spaniards  were  Azafiistas  everything 
would  be  all  right." 

I  said;  "That's  what  all  dictators  think.  But  if  I  judge  you  aright, 
you  have  no  ambition  to  be  a  dictator." 

Constancia  argued  with  me  on  the  wisdom  of  translating  this  liter- 
ally, but  I  told  her  to  go  ahead. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  am  no  dictator.  Yet  what  I'said  is  true.  I  am 
no  dictator  but  I  would  like  everybody  to  agree  with  me  out  of  his 
own  free  will." 

I  suppressed  a  laugh.  Only  dictatorships  achieve  "unanimity." 

I  rose  to  go.  He  sent  greetings  to  Cisneros,  Constancia's  husband, 
and  gave  me  an  autographed  photograph  of  himself. 

I  told  him  I  hoped  to  be  back  in  Madrid  a  year  from  now.  "Will 
you  still  be  here?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "if  I  don't  get  bored  with  politics." 

Azafia  was  not  a  strong  man.  But  he  was  in  a  strong  position.  The 


326      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Left  hoped  that  his  moderation  would  deter  the  Right  from  violent 
action  against  the  Republic.  Without  Azana's  middle-of-the-road  re- 
publicans the  Left  would  have  had  no  majority.  To  keep  Azaiia,  the 
Left  therefore  stuck  to  middle-of-the-roadism.  Azaiia  was  thus  a 
bulwark  against  radicalism,  and  some  members  of  the  Right  appreci- 
ated his  contribution  to  stability.  Through  Azafia  Spain  tried  to  avoid 
revolution.  Spain  needed  a  thorough  reorganization  of  her  national 
economy.  Spain  needed  a  French  Revolution  to  drag  it  from  the 
eighteenth  century  into  the  twentieth.  Azafia  expected  to  make  this 
revolution  by  democratic  evolution.  Skeptical,  the  Socialists  and 
Communists  supported  him  because  the  alternative  was  terror  from 
the  Right. 

But  Spain's  hope  of  internal  peace  was  fast  vanishing.  The  day 
before  I  saw  Azafia  I  interviewed  Francisco  Largo  Caballero  who  for 
forty  years  had  been  the  leader  of  the  Socialist  and  trade-union  move- 
ments. "The  reactionaries,"  he  said,  "can  come  back  into  office  only 
through  a  coup  d'6tat." 

That  was  the  key  to  the  entire  Spanish  situation.  The  Right  did 
not  have  a  majority  in  Spain.  It  had  economic  power  but  not  enough 
votes  to  get  political  power.  It  feared  that  without  political  power 
there  would  be  encroachments  on  its  economic  power.  When  the 
republicans  were  divided,  parliamentary  manipulations  had  allowed 
the  Right  to  oust  the  republicans.  But  now  the  republicans  had 
formed  the  Popular  Front  bloc,  and  democracy  offered  no  way  of 
bringing  the  Right  back  into  office.  The  Right's  alternative  was 
violence. 

Spain  had  to  do  something  about  her  poverty.  "Hunger  and  un- 
employment," wrote  Mr.  E.  G.  de  Caux,  the  pro-monarchist  Madrid 
correspondent  of  the  London  Times,  "are  driving  the  inhabitants  [of 
rural  districts]  to  despair." 

I  wanted  to  see  the  countryside,  for  the  peasant  problem  molded 
Spain's  life.  I  discussed  the  matter  with  Minister  of  Agriculture  Ruiz- 
Funez,  and  he  arranged  it.  He  gave  me  a  car  and  a  guide— Demetrio 
Delgado  de  Torres,  a  1927  graduate  of  Cornell  University.  Jay  Allen 
joined  us.  We  traveled  twelve  hundred  miles  through  the  heart  of 
peasant  Spain. 

Lester  Ziffern,  United  Press  Madrid  representative,  supplied  me 
with  figures  on  big  landholdings  in  Spain;  The  Duke  of  Medinaceli 
owned  195,680  acres,  the  Duke  of  Penaranda  104,345,  the  Duke  of 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  327 

Alba  89,625,  the  Duke  of  Comillas  42,795,  and  the  Duke  of  Lerma 
25,560.  But  millions  of  peasants  did  not  even  own  a  potato  patch. 

The  trip  reinforced  my  affection  for  Spain  and  my  feeling  that  a 
storm  was  gathering  around  her  head.  As  we  drove  along  the  high- 
way and  through  villages,  some  people  gave  us  the  outstretched-arm 
Fascist  salute.  We  were  in  a  swell  limousine.  Our  chauffeur  said,  c<No, 
Seiior,  I  am  not  that  kind,"  and  answered  with  the  clenched  fist;  he 
was  a  Socialist.  Elsewhere  adults  and  children  greeted  us  with  the 
clenched  fist.  I  had  seen  the  same  thing  in  Germany  between  1930 
and  1933. 

The  peasants  were  bitter.  At  Barcarrota,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  we 
chanced  upon  a  Socialist  meeting.  Margarita  Nelken,  a  member  of  the 
Cortes,  had  promised  to  speak  but  failed  to  appear.  A  crowd  of  300 
men  and  women  were  gathered  in  the  Casa  del  Pueblo  (people's 
house)  with  nothing  to  do  and  nobody  to  listen  to. 

"Jay,"  I  said,  "let's  take  over  the  meeting." 

"How  can  we  do  that?" 

"We'll  ask  them  questions.  I've  done  it  in  Russia  often." 

The  local  chairman  was  happy  to  have  anything  happen,  so  we 
marched  up  to  the  rickety  wooden  platform.  Jay  made  a  little  intro- 
ductory statement,  explained  who  we  were  and  that  we  had  no  politi- 
cal affiliations  and  only  sought  correct  information,  and  then  I  put 
the  questions. 

"Why  are  you  Socialists?" 

"Because  we  want  liberty,"  one  woman  replied. 

"Because  we  don't  want  to  starve,"  another  added. 

"Don't  you  eat  enough?"  I  asked.  The  reply  was  a  burst  of  laugh- 
ter. I  suggested  that  those  who  ate  meat  twice  a  week,  raise  their 
hands.  No  hand  went  up. 

"Who  eats  meat  once  a  week?"  Not  a  hand  went  up.  A  woman 
rose  and  explained  that  the  regular  diet  of  most  of  them  consisted 
of  vegetable  soup,  bkck  coffee,  bread— when  they  had  it— and  some- 
times sardines. 

"Don't  the  children  have  milk?"  I  inquired.  Several  mothers  with 
babies  on  their  arms,  pointed  to  their  breasts. 

"Yes,"  one  said,  "while  they  get  it  from  us,  but  not  later." 

I  now  came  to  the  subject  which  interested  me  most. 

"Have  you  received  land  from  the  new  government?" 

Yes.  All  of  them  had  received  land.  They  hoped  now  they  would 
live  better.  But  they  had  to  eat  until  the  new  crop  came  in  and  they 


328      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

had  no  money.  Moreover,  they  would  need  money  for  tools,  animals, 
and  seed. 

"We  have  land  now,  but  it  is  too  little  for  a  decent  living,"  one 
man  volunteered.  Applause  greeted  this  statement. 

"How  is  it,"  I  probed,  "that  Azana,  who  is  a  bourgeois,  has  given 
you  land?" 

"The  Socialists  forced  him!" 

"We  made  him  do  it!" 

"He  had  to!" 

These  exclamations  expressed  the  sense  of  the  meeting. 

"And  won't  you  all  now  become  little  capitalists?" 

This  provoked  much  mirth. 

"Maybe  we  will  some  day  live  like  human  beings  instead  of 
animals." 

"What  about  the  landlords?"  I  asked.  Derisive  laughter. 

"Let  them  weep  a  bit  as  we  have  been  weeping  all  our  lives,"  a 
mother  proposed. 

"Suppose  the  Rights  came  back  and  took  the  land  away,"  I  asked. 

"They  will  have  to  kill  us  first!" 

"They  will  never  be  allowed  to  come  back  to  office." 

"They  cannot  force  us  to  starve  any  longer!" 

The  peasants  wanted  something  and  quick.  They  did  not  know 
how  long  the  Popular  Front  regime  would  last.  To  forestall  trouble, 
the  official  Institute  of  Land  Reform  published  a  circular  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Caceres  asking  landlords  to  rent  some  of  their  land  to  land- 
less peasants.  Rent  it!  A  month  later,  when  I  spoke  to  Senor  de  la 
Fuente  of  the  Institute  he  told  me  that  not  a  single  proprietor  had 
replied.  One  fine  morning,  therefore,  the  peasants  who  owned  a  yoke 
of  mules— the  "yunteros"— but  no  land,  marched  to  the  estates  in  a 
body  with  their  animals  and  plows,  and  each  marked  off  a  modest 
parcel  as  his  field.  He  tilled  it  and  paid  rent  for  it.  This  was  illegal. 
But  it  showed  the  mood  of  the  country,  and  the  Institute  thereupon 
did  its  best  to  legalize  the  peasants'  acts.  The  Civil  Guard,  now  sub- 
ject to  the  orders  of  a  progressive  government,  did  nothing  to  ob- 
struct the  farmers. 

In  the  neighborhood  province  of  Badajoz,  hard  by  the  Portuguese 
frontier,  which  we  visited,  agricultural  conditions  were  even  worse 
than  in  Caceres.  Eighty-five  percent  of  the  population  lived  by  the 
land.  There  were  175,000  families  in  the  villages.  But  2,946  individu- 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  329 

als  owned  forty  percent  of  the  soil.  Here  too  the  yunteros  took  land 
in  the  spring  of  1936  and  then  signed  leases  for  it. 

In  Caceres,  41,499  yunteros  were  settled  on  estates  in  this  fashion 
during  March  and  April,  1936,  and  in  Badajoz,  24,702.  That  was  the 
extent  of  the  land  reform.  In  other  provinces  it  had  scarcely  started. 

We  talked  to  peasants  everywhere,  in  fields  behind  the  plow,  in 
mountain  villages,  in  churches.  We  interviewed  landlords  and  estate 
managers. 

I  sat  on  a  stone  post  in  the  central  square  of  the  white  town  of 
Badajoz  waiting  for  Torres,  Jay  Allen,  and  a  Spanish  official  who 
had  gone  into  the  caf 6  for  a  drink.  I  made  these  notes  in  my  black 
diary:  "The  peasants  are  no  longer  in  a  desperate  or  violent  mood. 
Azafia's  modest  reform  could  inaugurate  a  period  of  peace  and  ad- 
justment in  the  countryside.  The  peasants  will  not  allow  themselves 
to  be  driven  off  the  land.  They  will  support  the  Popular  Front  and 
resist  the  politicians  of  the  Right. 

"But— the  feudal  barons  of  Spain  are  wedded  to  the  ancient  Roman 
concept  of  property.  They  will  not  brook  the  slightest  interference. 
Devoid  of  social  outlook,  they  see  in  the  forced  renting  of  part  of 
their  estates  the  doom  of  the  divine  right  of  landowners.  Caceres  and 
Badajoz  are  a  portent  to  them.  For  the  moment,  they  cannot  resist 
the  government.  They  will  hate  it  the  more." 

If  the  landlords  had  employed  the  peasants  and  tilled  all  their  land 
they  might  have  insisted  on  their  property  privileges  with  at  least  a 
show  of  justice.  But  when  a  country  is  being  ruined  by  a  small  group 
of  private  owners  there  is  a  higher  morality  and  patriotism  which 
warrants  change.  Spain  or  the  landlords?  That  was  the  question.  The 
landlords  answered:  To  hell  with  Spain.  We  are  the  only  Spain. 

That  was  the  cause  of  the  war  in  Spain. 

I  returned  from  the  provinces  to  Madrid  and  then  proceeded  to 
Barcelona  whence  I  planned  to  go  to  Italy.  On  April  16,  1936,  writ- 
ing to  The  New  Republic,  I  reported  that  the  Right  reactionaries 
were  depressed  and  disorganized,  that  their  chief  hope  was  a  violent 
coup  d'etat  with  the  aid  of  the  army  and  the  Civil  Guard. 

That  hope  was  fulfilled.  With  the  aid  of  German  and  Italian  con- 
suls and  other  agents  in  Spain— the  pertinent  documents  were  seized 
in  the  German  consulate  in  Barcelona  when  the  War  started  and  have 
been  published  in  book  form— the  reactionaries  marshaled  their  forces, 
and  started  their  propaganda  barrage  abroad. 

Meanwhile,  the  Republic  slept. 


19-  England  Helps  Mussolini 

/TT\HE  Columbus  was  the  most  expensive  hotel  in  the  city. 

I       But  in  Genoa  one  had  to  live  in  the  Columbus,  especially  since 

JL  it  was  not  far  from  the  harbor  waters  which  the  Navigator 
had  sailed. 

If  Mussolini  had  used  the  money  he  spent  on  the  conquest  of 
Ethiopia  to  pull  down  the  slums  of  Genoa  and  build  homes  for  the 
poor,  more  Italians  would  have  found  work  and  happiness  than  can 
ever  go  to  Abyssinia. 

In  the  window  of  the  Corner  a  della  Serra  in  Rome,  the  gold  cross 
of  a  Catholic  bishop  was  displayed.  He  had  given  it  to  finance  the 
war  in  Africa.  The  Queen  contributed  her  wedding  ring.  The  peas- 
ant woman  in  black  contributed  her  wedding  ring. 

Two  shots  of  propaganda  in  the  arm  seem  to  be  worth  one  more 
hole  in  the  belt.  The  war  in  Ethiopia  caused  some  unrest  in  Italian 
industrial  towns— baby  riots  in  Spezia,  Milan,  Turin,  and  Genoa—but 
Mussolini  knew  how  to  arouse  the  patriotism  of  the  masses.  Abyssinia 
left  them  cold.  Positive  propaganda  failed.  But  "Hate  England" 
propaganda  worked. 

Sanctions  would  have  worked,  too.  Factories  were  closing  down 
for  lack  of  imported  raw  materials.  Food  was  scarcer.  An  officially 
inspired  cookbook  taught  housewives  how  to  prepare  "sanction  reci- 
pes." 

On  the  streets  of  Rome,  I  saw  many  posters  showing  a  turkey  and 
a  rabbit  eating  lettuce  leaves.  The  leaves  were  shaped  to  form  the 
word  sanctions.  Turkeys  and  rabbits,  that  is,  would  destroy  the  effect 
of  sanctions.  (I  know  nothing  about  turkeys.  But  I  know  that  rabbits 
are  anti-Bolshevik.  During  the  first  Five  Year  Plan  the  Bolsheviks 
distributed  a  poster  depicting  the  rapid  breeding  possibilities  of  rab- 
bits. Two  rabbits  soon  become  eight,  eight  sixty-four,  and  before 
long  rabbits  would  replenish  the  Soviet  earth  and  compensate  for  the 
slaughter  of  cattle  following  collectivization.  But  the  rabbits,  inspired 
by  Trotzky  or  someone  else,  refused  to  breed.  I  had  a  suspicion  in 
Rome  in  April,  1936,  that  rabbits  might  also  be  anti-Fascist.) 

330 


ENGLAND  HELPS  MUSSOLINI  331 

The  sanctions  applied  by  the  League  of  Nations  late  in  1935  could 
ultimately  have  paralyzed  Italy's  economy  which  is  naturally  weak. 
But  Italy  was  winning  the  war  in  Ethiopia  with  greater  speed  than 
Anthony  Eden  had  anticipated,  and  the  rains  did  not  come.  For 
quicker  effect,  an  additional  sanction  was  needed:  oil.  Without  oil 
there  is  no  modern  war.  Mussolini  had  reserves,  but  if  the  big  sellers 
of  petroleum  stopped  selling  it  the  Italian  expeditionary  force  in 
Ethiopia  would  be  checked. 

Breckinridge  Long,  the  United  States  Ambassador  in  Rome,  told 
me  that  he  opposed  the  application  of  oil  sanctions.  He  worked 
against  their  application.  He  submitted  his  views  to  Washington.  And 
since  the  United  States  is  one  of  the  largest  oil  exporters,  America's 
attitude  would  be  decisive,  for  if  one  country  continued  to  supply 
Italy,  all  would.  On  the  day  that  the  idea  of  oil  sanctions  was  defi- 
nitely shelved  Mr.  Long  told  me  he  was  very  happy  because  he  had 
helped  avert  a  European  war.  I  wonder.  Sanctions  had  not  induced 
Mussolini  to  go  to  war  against  England  and  the  other  nations  which 
applied  them.  But  oil  sanctions  were  more  serious  and  might  really 
cripple  Italy  in  Africa.  Therefore,  the  argument  ran,  Mussolini  would 
go  to  war.  Because  oil  sanctions  would  cripple  Italy  and  force  Mus- 
solini to  stop  the  war  in  Ethiopia  he  would  attack  Europe.  That  was 
not  very  logical  or  realistic  but  it  helped  the  Fascist  dictatorship  to 
its  first  sizable  conquest. 

When  I  interviewed  Sir  Eric  Drummond  in  the  British  Embassy 
he  seemed  to  be  in  a  daze.  He  had  become  the  ambassador  of  a  de- 
feated country.  England  defeated  by  Italy.  England  defeated  by 
England.  Ramsay  MacDonald  and  Sir  John  Simon  could  give  the 
British  public  all  kinds  of  excuses.  But  in  Rome  everyone  knew  what 
had  happened.  Drummond  knew.  Mussolini  knew.  Drummond,  a  few 
months  ago  the  mouthpiece  of  Britain  defiant,  now  was  very  small 
and  uncomfortable.  Italians  laughed  and  said  to  me,  "When  the  Brit- 
ish lion  roars  you  can  see  his  false  teeth." 

Mussolini  worked  hard  against  the  British.  When  the  question  of 
oil  sanctions  was  acute,  he  summoned  the  Soviet  Ambassador,  Boris 
Stein,  and  argued  against  the  wisdom  of  Soviet  collaboration  with 
England.  Mussolini  showed  Stein  a  telegram  from  Ambassador  Grandi 
in  London  on  Great  Britain's  pro-German  orientation.  "Here,"  Mus- 
solini said,  handing  him  the  wire,  "those  are  your  British  friends." 

Count  Ren6  de  Chambrun,  French  Ambassador,  who  each  time  we 
met  reminded  me  that  he  was  an  American,  too,  sat  in  the  glorious 


332      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

villa  built  by  Michelangelo  and  was  amused.  The  whole  situation 
made  him  think  of  a  play  that  was  running  in  New  York  called 
Idiofs  Delight.  "I'm  one  of  the  idiots,"  he  exclaimed. 

Mussolini  had  his  soul's  desire,  Abyssinia.  The  British  comforted 
themselves  with  the  thought  that  he  would  have  to  come  to  them  for 
the  money  to  develop  it.  Another  British  fallacy. 

The  Italian  people  gained  glory  and  a  reduced  standard  of  living. 
Edmondo  Rossoni,  the  fascist  Minister  of  Agriculture,  admitted  it. 
But  it  was  really  not  so  serious,  he  added.  "We  Italians  don't  need 
as  much  as  you  Americans,  I  agree  with  the  Catholics  that  you  can- 
not have  happiness  on  earth."  I  gathered  up  my  notes  and  said 
good-by. 

He  said,  "Now  we  will  have  peace." 

I  said,  "I  hope  so  but  I  doubt  it." 


20.  The  Statue  of  Liberty 

THERE  is  a  statue  of  liberty  in  Moscow.  It  stands  opposite  the 
building  of  the  Moscow  Soviet,  and  on  its  base  is  inscribed  the 
text  of  the  Soviet  Constitution, 

Even  the  rigidly  dictatorial  Bolsheviks  have  painted  freedom  and 
democracy  as  their  goals.  Freedom  has  always  been  man's  great  ideal. 

The  experience  of  the  Soviet  Union  and  of  all  dictatorships  has 
demonstrated  that  without  freedom  there  can  be  no  full  stomachs. 
Nor  can  there  be  any  economic  security  without  civil  rights.  What  is 
a  job  when  you  can  be  lifted  out  of  it  by  the  secret  police  on  no 
charge  or  on  an  unknown  charge  and  imprisoned  or  shot  without 
open  trial  and  without  friends  or  relatives  knowing  anything  about 
you?  Sometimes  a  Soviet  official  disappears  in  the  night.  His  wife 
immediately  begins  leaving  food  parcels  for  him  at  the  GPU  prison. 
She  has  asked  no  questions  because  she  will  get  no  answers.  Then 
one  day,  the  guard  at  the  gate  rejects  her  parcel.  That  is  how  she 
learns  that  her  husband  has  been  shot.  She  never  sees  the  body. 

Citizens  of  dictatorships  want  most  of  all  to  be  free.  In  1935,  when 
Moscow  Announced  a  forthcoming  constitution  which  would  intro- 
duce new  liberties,  real  happiness  pervaded  the  land. 

It  is  possible  to  explain  or  excuse  a  dictatorship  or  condone  its  sins. 
But  nobody  except  those  who  dictate  ever  like  a  dictatorship.  I  was 
pro-Soviet  despite  the  dictatorship.  I  knew  its  crimes  better  than 
most  because  I  mingled  with  Russians  more  than  most  foreigners.  But 
I  always  looked  forward  to  the  growth  of  democracy  at  the  expense 
of  the  dictatorship. 

I  realized  the  difficulties.  Democracy  was  not  born  overnight  in 
England  or  France. 

Russia's  cultural  backwardness  militates  against  democracy.  In 
1930, 1  went  to  Kazakhstan  to  witness  the  opening  of  the  Turkestan- 
Siberian  railway.  It  traverses  country  through  which  the  legions  of 
Genghis  Khan  and  Tamerlane  marched  to  India.  It  is  on  the  borders 
of  China.  The  railway  was  built,  for  the  most  part  through  desert,,  by 
kulaks  from  Russia  and  by  moon-faced  Kazaks.  Those  Kazaks  had 

333 


334      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

never  seen  a  railroad.  Bill  Shatoff,  Chicago  I.W.W.  who  supervised 
the  job,  said  that  the  men  had  lady  fingers  from  riding  horses  all 
their  lives.  Women  do  the  hard  work  among  Kazaks.  The  women 
are  great  beauties.  On  that  trip,  I  visited  Samarkand,  Bokhara,  and 
Tashkent.  I  stood  by  the  tomb  of  Tamerlane. 

I  had  gone  down  in  a  special  train  with  foreign  correspondents— 
Duranty,  Lyons,  Jim  Mills,  Mollie  Cogswell,  William  Henry  Cham- 
berlin,  Deuss,  Smolar,  Baseches,  and  several  Germans  who  were  afraid 
to  ride  across  one  of  the  new  railway  bridges  and  walked  over  while 
Americans,  including  Mrs.  Eugene  Lyons,  rode  jubilantly  on  the 
locomotive  fender—and  with  a  group  of  Soviet  authors,  among  them 
Pilniak,  Leonov,  and  Vsevolod  Ivanov.  The  train  had  a  de  luxe  diner 
with  large  mirrors  in  its  walls.  At  station  stops,  the  Kazak  women 
came  on  board,  and  when  they  discovered  the  mirrors  they  were 
mad  with  delight.  They  had  never  before  seen  their  reflections.  Mir- 
rors had  not  yet  reached  them;  and  they  could  not  see  their  features 
in  water  because  they  inhabited  a  waterless  plain.  The  Kazaks  were 
just  graduating  from  the  nomad  stage  of  civilization,  but  many  of 
them  still  followed  their  flocks,  and  the  Soviet  government  sent 
peripatetic  hospitals  after  them,  and  wherever  the  Kazaks  pitched 
their  cylindrical  felt  yurts  the  hospitals  halted  to  administer  medical 
aid.  What  does  democracy,  what  do  votes,  mean  to  such  people? 
Nothing.  /tUo  Vo*/  f^e&t?0**&  ? 

Liberty  meant  nothing  to  the  Kazaks  because  they  always  enjoyed 
it  and  nobody  had  yet  taken  it  away  from  them.  The  Moscow  pro- 
fessor who  needed  freedom  had  much  less  than  a  Kazak.  But  the 
professor,  taught  by  centuries  of  Russian  oppression,  made  no  de- 
mands. Russia's  tradition  of  terror,  Russia's  vast  sparsely  settled  areas, 
and  Russia's  low  level  of  culture  facilitated  the  work  of  the  Bolshevik 
dictatorship.  There  was  no  active  pressure  from  below  for  democ- 
racy. The  Constitution  was  a  gift  from  Olympus.  • 

My  article  in  The  Nation,  June  17,  1936,  was  the  first  printed  any- 
where in  the  world  to  reveal  the  contents  of  the  new  "Stalinist" 
Constitution.  I  had  sent  it  from  Moscow  by  mail  and  begged  The 
Nation  to  use  it  without  delay.  The  credit,  however,  is  scarcely  mine. 
Karl  Radek  simply  told  me  about  it.  He  said  very  little.  But  it  en- 
abled me  to  talk  knowingly  to  Bukharin  about  the  Constitution,  and 
Bukharin,  seeing  I  was  informed,  divulged  more  data  on  the  docu- 
ment. So  did  Mikhalsky,  like  Bukharin  and  Radek  a  member  of  the 
Constitutional  Drafting  Commission.  Then  I  went  back  to  Radek 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  335 

and  he,  thinking  he  had  given  me  all  the  facts  I  had,  must  have  felt 
there  was  no  use  keeping  the  secret  and  spilled  some  more. 

In  the  discussion  that  followed,  I  said  to  Radek,  "The  question  of 
the  Constitution  is  a  question  of  the  GPU." 

Radek  is  a  man  who  never  stops  talking  and  who  knows  all  the 
answers.  If  I  looked  him  up  after  a  trip  to  America,  he  would  ask  me 
my  impressions. 

I  might  reply,  "It  seems  to  me  that  Roosevelt  is  facing  a  difficult 
choice."  Whereupon  Radek  would  explain  in  a  half  hour  torrent  just 
what  Roosevelt's  policy  was  and  where  America  stood. 

But  when  I  said,  "The  question  of  the  Constitution  is  a  question 
of  the  GPU,"  he  was  dumbstruck.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
for  full  two  minutes,  and  then  exploded,  "You  are  right." 

The  Soviet  Constitution  of  1936  is  a  significant  state  paper  despite 
the  fact  that  it  has  been  honored  in  the  breach.  The  practical  results 
of  its  loud  promulgation  have  been  disappointingly  negative.  But  the 
reasons  for  its  failure  supply  the  key  to  the  prerequisites  of  success. 

The  Constitution,  now  the  supreme  kw  of  the  Soviet  Union,  does 
two  things:  it  describes  a  system  of  government  and  it  enunciates 
a  bill  of  rights.  The  bill  of  rights  is  inspiring.  But  there  is  nothing 
in  the  system  of  government  to  safeguard  the  rights.  The  popular 
enjoyment  of  the  rights  therefore  depends  on  the  good  will  of  the 
persons  or  person  who  control  the  government,  and  they  have  chosen 
to  ignore  the  rights.  One  of  the  latest  violations  of  the  bill  of  rights 
is  the  introduction  of  payment  for  tuition  in  high  schools  and  col- 
leges. This  contravenes  Article  121  of  the  Constitution  which  says, 
"Citizens  of  the  Soviet  Union  have  a  right  to  education.  This  right  is 
implemented  by  universal,  compulsory  elementary  education  and  by 
free  education,  including  university  education."  The  government  did 
not  ask  the  people  or  parliament  whether  it  could  introduce  paid  edu- 
cation. The  Constitution  was  not  amended  to  allow  paid  education. 
The  government  simply  decreed  paid  tuition  by  ukase  and  that  is  all 
there  was  to  it  except  for  the  pain  in  the  hearts  of  many  silent  people. 

How  could  anybody  protest?  The  bill  of  rights  in  the  Constitution 
grants  and  "guarantees  by  kw"  "freedom  of  speech,  freedom  of  the 
press,  freedom  of  assembly  and  meetings,  and  freedom  of  street 
marches  and  demonstrations."  In  life,  these  liberties  are  non-existent. 
If  a  citizen  were  to  try  to  publish  an  article  or  letter  or  make  a  speech 
attacking  the  Soviet  government  for  violating  the  Constitution  by 
instituting  paid  tuition  he  would  soon  find  himself  in  jail. 


336      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

When  the  state  or  its  subsidiaries  own  all  the  radio  broadcasting 
stations,  printing  presses,  printing  paper,  and  meeting  halls  and  when 
one  party  directs  the  state,  civil  rights  are  illusory.  They  can  be  sus- 
pended with  impunity.  The  Constitution  grants  "the  right  to  labor," 
"the  right  to  leisure,"  "the  right  to  old-age  care,"  equality  to  women, 
and  equality  of  race  and  nationality.  Some  of  these  rights  do  actually 
exist,  and  they  are  important.  But  not  one  of  them  is  inalienable.  They 
are  all  at  the  mercy  of  the  dictator  and  could  be  scrapped  without 
a  squeak  from  the  people.  Indeed,  such  is  the  terror  and,  the  perversion 
of  education,  that  men  rise  up  to  applaud  whenever  privileges  are 
abridged  or  annulled. 

The  essence  of  democracy  is  the  effective  right  to  criticize,  op- 
pose, and  oust  the  government  in  office  and  substitute  another  gov- 
ernment based  on  another  party  or  parties.  The  Soviet  regime  per- 
mits only  a  single  political  party.  The  trouble  with  democracy  in 
die  West  is  that  the  political  parties  on  which  it  rests  are  frequently 
so  cprrupt,  unrepresentative,  and  supine.  But  even  where  the  ruling 
class,  in  the  political  garb  of  one  party  or  the  other,  has  an  almost 
permanent  tenure  in  office,  the  existence  of  an  organized  opposition, 
of  free  trade  unions  and  of  a  free  press,  exercises  a  salutary  sobering 
influence  on  government.  Labor  in  the  United  States,  for  instance, 
has  no  major  nation-wide  party  of  its  own,  yet  the  competition 
between  the  Democratic  and  Republican  parties,  both  of  them  capi- 
talistic, impels  them  to  consider  the  wishes  and  often  yield  to  die 
pressure  of  labor  whose  votes  might  swing  an  election.  As  long  as 
there  are  free  elections  a  minority  can  fight  for  its  rights.  Indeed, 
where  the  rivalry  between  majority  party  and  minority  party  is  keen, 
a  second  minority,  political  or  religious  or  professional,  may  dictate 
policy. 

In  the  Soviet  Union,  there  is  no  protection  for  a  political  minority. 
Therefore,  there  is  no  guarantee  of  democracy.  There  can  be  no 
democracy  without  a  guarantee  of  democracy. 

In.  the  Soviet  Union,  political  opponents  and  political  minorities 
are  purged  by  shooting,  exile,  or  imprisonment.  Purges  are  a  perma- 
nent feature  of  dictatorship.  They  are  the  dictatorship's  substitute 
for  real  elections. 

The  virility  and  viability  of  a  democracy  are  determined  by  the 
relationship  between  executive,  legislative,  and  judicial  divisions  of 
the  state. 

In  most  democracies^-those  that  remain— parliament,  fearing  en- 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  337 

croachment  on  its  powers,  is  jealous  of  a  strong  executive.  Actually, 
democracy  has  been  destroyed  where  the  executive  was  weak.  In 
Germany  and  Italy,  Fascism  triumphed  when  hopelessly  divided, 
obstreperous  parliaments  hampered  and  thwarted  pusillanimous  exec- 
utives. A  forceful  chief  executive  can  serve  as  a  bulwark  against  dic- 
tatorship. 

In  Russia,  however,  the  salutary  give-and-take  and  friendly  rivalry 
and  balance  between  executive  and  legislative  departments  have 
never  entered  into  popular  experience.  Czarist  Russia  never  knew 
parliamentarism.  The  Duma  was  unimportant  in  national  life.  The 
Czarist  administration  was  weak.  The  Kerensky  government  lacked 
backbone.  Russia  yearned  for  powerful  leadership  that  would  keep 
the  country  on  an  even  keel.  The  Bolsheviks  preached  dictatorship 
and  the  nation  accepted  dictatorship  as  the  inescapable  alternative  to 
chaos. 

The  voice  of  the  people  was  to  be  expressed  through  the  Soviets. 
But  Soviets  are  executive  contrivances.  The  village  soviet  is  the  vil- 
lage's government,  and  the  city  soviet  is  city  hall.  Independent  legis- 
latures reflecting  the  will  of  the  people  were  never  a  feature  of  Bol- 
shevik ideas  or  intentions.  The  Bolsheviks  regard  checks  and  balances 
as  time-wasters. 

The  Constitution  of  1936  did  not  change  this  in  the  slightest.  Par- 
liament does  not  control  die  executive  departments.  It  merely  elects 
them.  But  the  dictator,  elected  by  no  one,  runs  the  elections.  He  is 
chief  executive  because  he  holds  in  his  hand  all  the  sources  of  real 
power— secret  police,  army,  party,  treasury,  propaganda.  The  courts, 
where  they  function  at  aU,  are  subservient  to  the  executive. 

The  Constitution  of  1936  did  nothing  to  curb  the  dictator.  How 
could  it?  He  wrote  it. 

Nevertheless,  the  Constitution  was  not  all  empty  words  and  hol- 
low promises.  It  gave  the  peasants  equal  voting  rights  with  the  work- 
ingmen;  theretofore  the  vote  of  a  factory  hand  had  been  worth  five 
votes  of  a  farm  hand.  It  also  restored  the  franchise  to  priests,  former 
kulaks,  and  former  officials  of  the  Czarist  regime. 

At  a  meeting  in  the  Kremlin  of  collectivized  peasants,  a  farm  boy 
making  a  speech  revealed  that  his  father  had  been  a  kulak.  Without 
rising  from  his  seat,  Stalin  exclaimed,  "It  doesn't  matter  whose  son 
you  are  but  who  you  are  and  how  you  work."  This  reversed  the 
cruel  Soviet  practice  of  visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers  on  their  chil- 
dren. The  audience  broke  into  cheers. 


338      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  internal  enemy,  defeated,  could  be  treated  with  a  touch  of 
charity.  That  is  why  the  Constitution  looked  like  a  new  departure. 
Where  there  is  less  fear  there  can  be  more  freedom.  The  chief  change 
registered  by  the  Constitution  was  the  absorption  of  the  peasantry- 
seventy  percent  of  the  population— into  the  Socialist  system.  Collec- 
tivization enabled  Moscow  to  control  the  country's  farms.  It  could 
never  have  controlled  130,000,000  individual  peasants. 

Collectivization,  costly  and  bloody,  promised  to  give  Russia  bread 
and  rid  it  of  famine.  It  promised  to  mitigate  the  fierce  struggle  be- 
tween city  and  countryside.  It  promised  domestic  pacification.  Hence 
the  Constitution. 

The  Constitution  was  an  attempt  to  stimulate  peasant  loyalty  to 
the  Soviet  regime  and  to  win  over  recalcitrant  elements  in  the  towns. 
The  emphasis  of  Soviet  propaganda  now  ceased  to  be  upon  Com- 
munist party  supremacy  and  upon  class  rule.  On  May  4,  1935,  Stalin 
drank  a  toast  at  a  Kremlin  reception  of  Red  Army  commanders  to 
"non-party  Bolsheviks."  A  non-member  of  the  Communist  party 
could  be  a  Bolshevik.  The  Communist  party  thereby  officially  lost 
the  political  pre-eminence  which  it  had  already  lost  in  fact.  The 
Young  Communist  League  iad  been  told  to  keep  out  of  politics.  The 
Old  Bolsheviks  Society  was  suppressed,.  Non-Communists  were  being 
appointed  to  important  industrial  jobs.  The  regime  chajcged  leading 
Communists  with  sabotage  and  treachery.  The  Communist  party  was 
being  purged  continuously.  That  undermined  its  prestige. 

The  Communist  party  was  now  merged  with  the  government. 
Lenin,  and  Bukharin  had  always  insisted  on  a  strict  demarcation  be- 
tween the  functions  of  the  party  and  those  of  the  government  so 
that  the  party  could  check,  direct,  and  watch  the  government.  But 
now  party  and  government  became  one  in  personnel.  Nobody  could 
criticize  the  government  from  the  outside,  from  party  headquarters. 
Izvestia,  the  daily  organ  of  the  government,  began  to  look  like  a 
carbon  copy  of  Pravda,  the  daily  organ  of  the  party.  Most  of  the 
important  men  in  the  party  held  pivotal  government  posts.  Almost 
all,  in  fact,  except— Statin.  He  was  not  a  government  official.  He  was 
a  party  official.  That  enabled  him  to  condemn  the  government's 
mistakes  while  refusing  responsibility  for  them.  He  was  the  check 
and  balance  on  the  government;  he  alone.  By  merging  the  party 
with  the  state  apparatus,  Stalin  enhanced  his  own  power  and  de- 
stroyed the  Communist  party  as  a  unique  revolutionary  instrument. 

Thus  the  very  same  process  which  democratically  equalized  peas- 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  339 

ants  with  workers  and  non-Communists  with  Communists  also  lifted 
Stalin  higher  towards  his  goal  of  personal  dictatorship. 

The  Constitution  crowned  a  development  which  increased  the 
political  weight  of  the  peasantry  and  of  non-Communists.  It  was 
therefore  a  move  to  the  Right,  to  conservatism.  In  literature,  art, 
international  affairs,  and  home  politics  the  trend  was  likewise  to- 
wards conservatism. 

Stalin  was  attempting  to  dismantle  the  class  state  established  in 
1917  and  create  a  nation.  He  wished  to  eliminate  centrifugal,  dis- 
ruptive influences  and  substitute  unity.  He  was  impressed  by  the 
power  which  whipped-up  nationalism  gave  Hitler  and  he  wanted 
to  acquire  a  similar  power.  He  did  not  know  how  to  do  it.  He  tried 
history  as  a  means  to  his  end.  He  tried  unifying  patriotism.  He  tried 
to  revive  old  traditions.  He  has  even  endeavored  to  brighten  the 
memories  of  Czarist  Russia  and  to  regain  the  territories  of  Czarist 
Russia. 

Stalin  is  the  great  centralizer.  The  central  core  of  the  Soviet  Union 
is  the  old  Russia  of  the  ethnical  unit  called  Great  .Russia.  There  are 
an  estimated  sixty-eight  million  Great  Russians.  But  to  the  south  are 
twenty-five  million  Ukrainians;  to  the  west  four  million  White  Rus- 
sians; on  the  Volga  are  the  Tatars,  Chuvashi,  Mordvinians,  and  a 
host  of  other  minor  nationalities;  in  the  warm  Caucasus  live  eight 
Trillion  Georgians,  Armenians,  and  Turks;  Siberia  has  scores  of  na- 
tionalities. 

To  these  non-Russians  and  to  millions  of  Russian  workingmen 
and  peasants,  the  Russian  nation  had  never  meant  anything.  Nation- 
alism and  patriotism  before  the  Revolution  did  not  exist  for  them. 
The  Czarist  government  was  the  symbol  of  oppression.  There  had 
been,  up  to  1917,  a  Russian  nation  in  name,  but  not  in  fact. 

Leninism  is  the  doctrine  of  internationalism.  The  Soviet  regime 
had  always  refrained  from  teaching  patriotism  or  any  type  of  na- 
tionalism. "Workers  of  the  world,  unite"  was  Moscow's  primary 
slogan.  If  Soviet  citizens  boasted  of  Soviet  achievements  they  attrib- 
uted them  to  the  superiority  of  Socialist  methods  and  ideas,  never 
to  the  fact  that  those  methods  and  ideas  were  being  applied  in  Rus- 
sia. On  the  contrary,  they  always  deplored  the  fact  that  backward 
Russia  was  the  first  country  to  introduce  Socialism.  In  Germany, 
England,  or  America,  they  asserted,  it  would  have  brought  better 
fruit. 

Yet,  beginning  in  1935,  first  hesitantly,  and  then  in  roaring  ere- 


340      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

scendo,  the  Soviet  propaganda  orchestra  played  patriotic  themes.  The 
word  "rodina"— fatherland— emerged  into  official  usage;  not  "social- 
ist fatherland"  as  before,  but  simply  fatherland.  Poets  sang  "to  our 
beautiful  country."  Editorials  in  1935  urged  "love  of  country."  On 
May  i,  1935,  an  article  by  Vasilkovsky  said,  "There  is  no  more  grate- 
ful task  and  no  more  important  political  task  than  to  encourage  and 
fan  the  sacred  flame  of  love  of  fatherland."  Such  terms  were  once 
anathema  to  Bolsheviks.  D.  Zaslavsky,  an  official  journalist,  believed 
that  these  words  "once  hated  by  millions,  have  lost  their  old  mean- 
ing. .  .  .  They  sound  different  now."  I  doubt  it.  They  still  isounded 
reactionary  to  Soviet  ears. 

The  new  emphasis  on  "Soviet  patriotism"  was  quickly  followed 
by  something  far  worse:  Russian  nationalism.  This  conformed  to 
Stalin's  strategy  of  doing  a  job  in  two  or  more  installments.  The 
first  stage  was  called  "Soviet  patriotism."  The  second  stage  was  Rus- 
sian nationalism. 

The  campaign  commenced  with  a  bang  in  1937.  An  editorial  in 
the  Pravda  of  January  15,  1937,  was  entitled,  "The  Great  Russian 
People."  It  of  course  quoted  Marx  to  prove  the  point  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  Russian  people,  and  it  attacked  Hitler.  <rWe  love  our 
homeland,"  it  said.  "We  love  our  great,  strong  and  picturesque  Rus- 
sian language.  It  is  becoming  an  international  language."  But  what 
about  the  scores  of  millions  of  Soviet  citizens  who  were  not  Rus- 
sians? 

Sergei  Eisenstein,  with  no  great  enthusiasm,  was  then  working  on 
his  Alexander  Nevsky  film  about  a  great  battle  on  the  ice  of  Lake 
Peipus  (Chudskoe)  in  the  thirteenth  century  between  Russians 
under  Nevsky  and  Teuton  knights  in  armor.  Unfortunately,  Karl 
Marx  had  referred  to  this  Baltic  combat  in  one  of  his  many  writings, 
and  this  quotation  was  used  repeatedly  by  the  Soviet  press  in  an 
effort  to  instill  nationalistic  and  anti-German  feelings.  That  was  the 
purpose  of  the  Eisenstein  picture. 

Glinka,  whom  Pravda  proudly  called  "the  creator  of  Russian  na- 
tional opera,"  had  written  A  Life  for  the  Czar  which  the  students 
in  pre-revolutionary  days  always  booed  from  the  gallery.  The  Czar- 
ist  regime  regarded  it  as  a  patriotic  opera.  The  Big  Theatre  in  Mos- 
cow prepared  now  to  perform  it  under  a  new  tide,  Ivan  Susanm— 
the  name  of  the  hero.  Pravda  linked  this  performance,  like  everything 
else,  with  Stalin.  It  was  part  of  his  "orders  to  create  a  Soviet  classic 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  341 

opera."  So  the  creation  of  a  Soviet  classic  opera  consisted  in  chang- 
ing the  name  of  a  chauvinistic  Czarist  opera. 

March  n,  1937,  was  the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth 
of  a  Russian  architect  named  Bazhenov.  The  Bolshevik  press  declared 
that  "Bazhenov's  talents  fill  us,  Soviet  architects,  with  a  feeling  of 
national  pride."  Stalin  was  obviously  attempting  to  induce  Soviet 
art  and  science  to  drink  at  the  ancient,  rather  muddy  fountain  of 
Russia's  past.  On  March  14,  1937,  an  extensive  Pravda  article  dealt 
with  the  great  mathematician  Lobachevsky,  long  dead,  "whose  dis- 
coveries are  closely  linked  with  the  national  nature  of  Russian  sci- 
ence." A  few  days  later— this  intensity  is  characteristic  of  Communist 
propaganda— Pr#z;J0  devoted  another  many-column  article  to  Ko- 
valevsky,  a  Russian  paleontologist  who  died  in  1883. 

Two  days  later,  Pravda  launched  a  violent  attack  on  Professor 
Pokrovsky,  Soviet  Russia's  leading  historian  of  Czarist  Russia,  and 
an  old  honored  Bolshevik. 

When  Pokrovsky's  Brief  History  of  Russia  first  appeared— it  was 
published  by  the  International  Publishers  of  New  York  in  1933— 
Lenin  wrote  him  a  letter  which  read,  "Comrade  Pokrovsky,  I  con- 
gratulate you  very  heartily  on  your  success.  I  like  your  new  book 
Brief  History  of  Russia  immensely.  It  reads  with  tremendous  inter- 
est. It  should,  in  my  opinion,  be  translated  into  the  European  lan- 
guages." But  that  was  Lenin,  and  Lenin  was  dead.  Now  die  Stalin 
press  branded  Pokrovsky  as  an  "anti-Marxist."  His  school  had  en- 
gaged in  "wrecking."  What  were  his  sins?  He  spoke  of  Czarist  Rus- 
sia as  a  country  of  "Oblomovs,"  sluggish  and  undynamic.  He  said 
that  the  blood  of  the  Great  Russians  ("Great"  ethnographically  in 
contrast  to  the  "Little  Russians"  or  Ukrainians)  was  eighty  percent 
Finnish.  Pokrovsky,  moreover,  was  not  harsh  to  the  invading  Tatars. 
(In  Czarist  times  there  was  a  tradition  of  anti-Tatarism  which  the 
Soviet  regime  had  formerly  rejected.)  Greatest  crime  of  all:  Pokrov- 
sky described  Czar  Peter  the  Great  as  a  reactionary.  Karl  Marx, 
according  to  Pravda,  considered  Russia's  conquest  of  the  Baltic  prov- 
inces as  a  progressive  move,  whereas  Pokrovsky  looked  upon  it  as 
simple  robbery.  The  political  purpose  of  this  campaign  now  begins 
to  emerge.  The  reinterpretation  of  patriotism  in  1936  and  the  re- 
writing of  Russian  history  in  1937,  leads  straight  to  the  exploits  of 
the  Red  Army  after  the  Nazi-Soviet  pact  of  August  23,  1939. 

The  one  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  Battle  of 


342      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Borodino  was  celebrated  for  the  first  time  in  Soviet  Russia  on  Sep- 
tember 2,  1937.  Soviet  students,  the  press  reported,  placed  flowers 
at  the  monuments  of  the  Russian  regiments  that  stopped  Napoleon's 
army.  This  was  "a  glorious  page  of  the  past  of  our  country."  Gen- 
eral Kutuzov,  commander  of  the  Russian  army  that  resisted  Napo- 
leon, was  lauded  highly  and  in  order  to  make  this  Czarist  Prince— 
his  title  was  omitted  from  the  propaganda— palatable  to  a  Soviet 
generation  that  had  grown  up  to  despise  him,  the  press  said  that 
Czar  Alexander  I  was  envious  of  and  opposed  to  him.  "The  Russian 
nation,"  said  Fravda,  "saved  the  independence  of  the  fatherland  in 
1812.  The  great  conqueror  collided  with  a  great  nation  and  was 
beaten."  This  anti-Bolshevik  version  of  history  was  intended  to  in- 
still confidence  in  Soviet  peoples  for  the  struggle  with  Hitler.  Ac- 
tually, it  sounded  like  Hiderism  and  very  little  like  the  language 
of  Bolshevism.  It  was  the  language  in  which  the  Czarist  Russian  en- 
cyclopedia referred  to  Napoleon  and  Prince  Kutuzov. 

Now  commenced  a  Big  Bertha  barrage  for  the  more  extensive 
employment  of  the  Russian  language.  Under  the  Leninist  policy  to- 
wards national  minorities,  the  numerous  ethnic  units  of  the  Soviet 
federation  used  their  own  tongues  and  learned  Russian  if  they  wished. 
This  began  to  change.  "Fascists  and  Trotzkyists"  were  accused  of 
endeavoring  to  cleanse  the  Ukrainian  language  of  "Russianisms." 
The  bourgeois  nationalists  of  the  ethnic  republics  were  interfering 
with  the  study  of  the  Russian  language.  But  the  Russian  language 
had  "wonderful  richness."  It  was  "a  treasury  of  world  culture  and 
had  become  the  property  of  all  the  working  people  of  the  Soviet 
peoples."  The  policy  theretofore  had  been  to  win  the  sympathy  of 
Czarist  Russia's  subject  peoples  by  making  them  feel  they  enjoyed 
cultural  autonomy  and  did  not  have  to  speak  Russian  or  accept  Rus- 
sian culture.  Stalin  was  reverting  to  the  hated  Czarist  policy  of 
Russification  which  bred  revolt  in  the  hearts  of  non-Russians. 

Apparently,  Stalin  imagined  that  if  Soviet  citizens  were  proud 
of  Kutuzov,  Peter  the  Great  and  the  rout  of  the  Teuton  knights  on 
Eisenstein's  artificial  ice  they  would  be  more  loyal  to  the  Bolshevik 
regime.  Instead  of  meat  he  was  giving  them  stale  circuses. 

This  whole  tendency  revealed  the  narrow  limitations  of  Stalin's 
mentality  and  statesmanship.  He  was  searching  for  new  psycho- 
logical weapons  to  cement  a  national  solidarity  which  he  must  have 
felt  did  not  exist. 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  343 

Brittle  Marxists  may  react  against  concentration  on  Stalin's  person 
as  a  clue  to  Soviet  events.  There  is  nothing  in  Marxism  which  denies 
the  role  of  the  individual  in  history.  He  is  sometimes  the  vehicle  for 
social  forces.  Sometimes  he  bends  them  to  his  purposes.  Sometimes 
he  misdirects  them.  Maybe  Hitler  is  Germany's  destiny.  But  maybe 
his  judgment  has  been  wrong;  maybe  he  has  made  a  mistake.  When 
so  much  power  is  centered  in  one  person,  when  his  wishes,  bad 
dreams,  bad  moods,  and  bad  health  influence  state  decisions  it  would 
be  blind  dogmatism  to  deny  him  a  major  part  in  his  country's  his- 
tory. Without  personal  history,  historic  analysis  becomes  fatalism. 
Abstract  social  and  economic  circumstances  are  static  without  the 
impact  of  persons  aiming  to  change  them.  A  class  or  a  party  can 
alter  history.  Why  not  one  man  who  monopolizes  the  power  of  the 
party  and  die  class? 

Suppose  Lenin  had  never  lived.  Suppose  Lenin  were  still  alive. 
Suppose  Stalin  and  Trotzky  had  never  quarreled.  Soviet  history 
would,  of  course,  be  different.  Has  not  the  Bolshevik  regime  fixed 
its  attitude  towards  persons  in  accordance  with  their  birth  and  train- 
ing? Do  not  Stalin's  origin,  biography  and  personal  characteristics 
influence  his  acts?  They  do. 

One  evening,  Stalin  and  Prime  Minister  Vyascheslav  Molotov 
went  to  the  opera,  sat  in  a  hidden  box,  and  saw  Lady  Macbeth  of 
Mzensk  by  Shostakovich,  a  young  man  who  had  been  hailed  both 
at  home  and  abroad  as  Soviet  Russia's  greatest  composer.  The  opera, 
which  burlesqued  the  vulgarity  and  emptiness  of  pre-Revolutionary 
Russian  life,  had  been  running  throughout  the  Soviet  Union  since 
the  spring  of  1934,  and  had  received  enthusiastic  reviews  in  the 
Bolshevik  press.  Soviet  agencies  helped  to  finance  performances  of 
it  in  foreign  countries.  Whenever  prominent  foreign  musicians  or 
theater  people  came  to  Moscow  they  were  shown  Lady  Macbeth. 
But  now  Stalin  saw  it  and  didn't  like  it. 

Stalin  is  about  as  much  of  a  musician  as  I  am.  But  since  the  opera 
did  not  find  favor  in  his  proletarian  highness's  ears  it  was  taken  off 
immediately.  Two  days  after  he  attended  the  performance,  the 
mighty  Pravda,  January  28,  1936,  printed  a  smashing  attack  on  Shos- 
takovitch  and  his  art.  It  was  not  music  at  all,  just  "a  leftist  muddle." 
Shostakovitch  did  not  understand  what  the  Soviet  audience  wanted. 
(They  had  packed  every  performance.  He  did  not  understand  what 
Stalin  wanted.)  He  was  "formalistic,"  whatever  that  implies. 

At  this  signal,    all   Soviet   artists— musicians,    authors,    scenario 


344      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

writers,  playwrights,  poets— began  beating  their  breasts  in  public 
and  announcing  that  they  too  had  sinned,  they  too  were  "formalist," 
"leftist."  The  Second  Moscow  Theatre,  run  by  eager  experimenters, 
closed  down. 

Stalin  and  Molotov  again  went  to  the  opera.  This  time  they 
viewed  Djerzhinsky's  Quiet  Flows  the  Don.  They  liked  its  Russian 
folk  tunes.  Djerzhinsky  was  made  a  Soviet  idol. 

Stalin's  wife,  Nadezhda  Alleluyeva,  died  after  a  very  brief  illness 
on  November  9,  1932.  She  was  thirty;  he  fifty-three.  He  was  appar- 
ently very  attached  to  her.  She  had  studied  in  a  textile  institute,  was 
modest,  and  always  avoided  the  limelight.  Her  father  had  been  a 
Russian  revolutionary  workingman.  Wives  in  Russia  play  no  role  as 
wives.  If  they  are  not  personally  entitled  to  prominence  or  popu- 
larity, they  are  unknown;  they  do  not  enjoy  any  reflected  glory 
from  their  husbands.  The  death  of  Stalin's  wife  was  his  personal 
tragedy  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  public  life  of  the  country. 
That  was  the  Soviet  code.  Russians?  were  therefore  surprised  and 
shocked  when  Alleluyeva  received  a  large  public  funeral  in  which 
trade  unions  and  government  officials  marched  behind  the  bier.  The 
Prime  Minister  of  Turkey  sent  a  telegram  of  condolence  to  Stalin. 
So  did  Matsuoka,  chief  of  the  Japanese  delegation  to  Geneva  and 
later  Foreign  Minister.  So  did  many  diplomats  stationed  in  Mos- 
cow. Their  expressions  were  printed  in  the  Soviet  press.  Such  pub- 
licity was  startling.  It  had  never  happened  before. 

Alleluyeva  was  not  cremated.  Cremation— except  in  the  case  of 
Lenin— is  a  normal  and  accepted  Bolshevik  practice.  Alleluyeva's 
family  could  not  have  objected  on  religious  grounds  because  it  was 
a  revolutionary  family.  Stalin  must  have  objected.  I  do  not  know  the 
reason  why  and  I  have  no  psychological  explanation.  But  probably 
there  is  one  to  be  found  deeply  embedded  in  a  Georgian  atavism. 
Stalin's  conduct  and  policies  cannot  be  divorced  entirely  from  his 
racial  and  cultural  origins. 

Stalin  caused  a  pale  pink  marble  bust  to  be  erected  on  his  wife's 
grave.  It  is  not  a  likeness  but  rather  a  portrait  of  idealized  woman- 
hood 

When  Alleluyeva  died  a  Communist  friend  of  mine  who  knew 
Stalin  said  to  me,  "This  will  affect  Stalin  and  therefore  all  of  us  very 
much."  Perhaps  it  has.  I  don't  know. 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  345 

The  new  conservative  current  deposited  strange  fish  on  Soviet 
shores.  The  Cossacks,  symbol  of  tyranny  and  agents  of  Czarist  Rus- 
sian cruelty,  were  restored  in  their  right  to  wear  their  ancient  uni- 
form and  to  appear  in  public  as  an  organized  unit. 

Another  step  towards  the  rehabilitation  of  Czarist  culture  was 
the  introduction  of  titles  in  the  Red  Army.  Officers  in  the  Bolshevik 
armed  forces  had  formerly  carried  titles  designating  their  functions: 
battalion  commander,  regimental  commander,  and  so  forth.  Why? 
Because  the  old  titles  had  a  reactionary,  hateful  ring.  Now  the  old 
names  were  revived.  Red  Army  officers  are  now  called  Lieutenant, 
Captain,  Major,  and  Colonel.  To  the  Russian  mind,  the  word  "Col- 
onel" summons  up  memories  of  Czarism.  It  is  synonymous-  with 
Czarist  rule.  In  the  Soviet  lexicon,  it  had  been  a  word  of  opprobrium. 
It  was  in  a  class  with  "Prince"  and  "Baron."  Stalin  gave  it  Soviet 
franchise. 

Then  came  a  change  which  affected  every  Soviet  woman,  man, 
and  child.  It  too  marked  the  rightward  course.  It  concerned  sex 
relations.  ZAGS  in  Russia  means  the  official  marriage,  divorce, 
births,  and  deaths  bureau.  Each  Moscow  district  has  one.  Most  of 
them  are  old  retail  stores  cleaned  and  repainted  and  broken  up  into 
cubicles  separated  by  wooden  partitions.  Whenever  I  had  nothing 
to  do  I  would  drop  into  a  Zags  and  sit  at  the  elbow  of  the  registrar 
or  woman  lawyer  who  was  there  for  free  consultation.  The  em- 
ployees were  aU  women.  They  looked  neat,  worked  efficiently,  and 
took  great  pride  in  the  attractive  appearance  of  their  bureaus.  In 
several  Zags  bureaus  they  knew  me  from  frequent  visits  throughout 
the  years  and  I  felt  quite  at  home. 

A  woman  holding  a  boy  of  six  by  the  hand  came  in  to  register 
the  birth  of  a  child.  She  seemed  very  happy.  I  listened  while  she 
gave  all  the  necessary  information.  She  was  sitting  on  a  chair  at  the 
registrar's  desk  and  I  was  sitting  at  the  desk  too. 

"Why  did  you  have  the  baby?"  I  asked  the  mother. 

"I  wanted  it,"  she  answered  quite  naturally. 

"Do  you  know  how  not  to  have  babies? "  I  inquired. 

"Yes." 

I  asked  her  why  she  had  waited  so  long  between  children.  She 
said,  "My  husband  received  a  raise  last  year  and  we  got  a  second 


room." 


Such  a  conversation  was  not  unusual.  Russians  are  quite  unin- 
hibited and  they  don't  mind  intimate  questions.  I  once  took  an  Open 


346      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Road  tourist  group  to  the  Moscow  Institute  for  the  Care  of  Mother 
and  Child  which  had  interesting  exhibits.  While  we  were  interview- 
ing the  director  there  was  one  Russian  visitor,  a  young  girl,  viewing 
a  collection  of  fetuses  in  jars. 

"Are  you  a  medical  student?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  she  replied. 

"What  makes  you  so  interested  in  the  exhibits?" 

"I  am  going  to  my  village  this  summer  when  I  get  vacation  from 
the  university,  and  the  peasants  frequently  ask  about  pregnancy,  con- 
traceptives, and  such  things,  and  I  came  here  to  look  around." 

"How  old  are  you?"  I  asked. 

"Nineteen,"  she  replied. 

"Have  you  had  sexual  intercourse?" 

"No,"  she  replied  as  simply  as  if  I  had  asked  her  whether  she 
had  a  job. 

"Why  not?"  I  inquired. 

"Because  I  don't  love  anybody." 

Then  the  director,  Dr.  Berkovitch,  a  brilliant  woman,  took  up 
the  question.  I  translated  the  interview  to  the  Americans  present. 
One  of  them  said,  "You  ought  to  try  those  questions  on  an  Amer- 
ican college  girl." 

Because  the  Soviet  peoples  are  so  unspoiled  and  richly  endowed, 
and  because  I  have  learned  to  love  them  I  mourn  all  the  more  their 
prolonged  and  deep  suffering. 

Throughout  the  Revolution,  sex  relations  in  the  Soviet  Union  have 
been  abnormal  on  account  of  difficult  living  conditions.  The  Bol- 
sheviks never  tried  to  break  up  the  family,  and  most  of  the  Soviet 
leaders  live  orthodox  family  lives.  But  shortage  of  housing  facilities 
and  of  commodities,  as  well  as  the  storm  of  Revolution  have  shaken 
many  family  ties  and  prevented  others  from  being  made.  The  burgher 
who  cannot  marry  without  a  four-room  apartment  and  an  eight- 
piece  dining  room  set  is  silly.  Four  walls  and  a  bed,  or  at  least  a 
mattress,  however,  are  rather  important  prerequisites  of  the  mar- 
ried life.  But  alas,  in  many  Soviet  cities,  they  are  unobtainable.  The 
rich  have  as  many  children  as  they  can  stand.  But  the  poor  have 
as  many  as  they  can  afford.  After  that,  in  Russia,  the  women  had 
abortions. 

Russians  marry  early,  and  Russian  men  are  often  devoted  fathers. 
But  when  wages  are  low  and  sleeping  space  is  cramped,  they  live 
together  without  marrying  or  they  marry  and  limit  their  offspring. 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  347 

The  number  of  abortions  in  the  Soviet  Union  was  excessive.  The 
sensible  or  the  Marxist  way  would  have  been  to  increase  the  sale 
of  contraceptives  or/and  improve  living  standards.  Birth-control  in- 
formation can  be  had  for  the  asking  in  die  Soviet  Union.  But  contra- 
ceptives are  scarce  and  often  defective  and  were  never  sufficiently 
popularized. 

With  the  normal  Bolshevik  penchant  for  going  to  extremes,  the 
Soviet  government  swung  from  complete  freedom  of  abortions  to 
their  complete  abolition  by  the  law  of  June  27,  1936.  The  Soviet 
alternative  to  no-abortions,  however,  was  not  birth  control;  it  was 
a  more-babies  campaign,  and  the  proscription  of  abortions  was  ac- 
companied by  prizes  for  bigger  families  just  as  in  Fascist  Italy. 

The  promulgation  of  the  new  anti-abortion  law  followed  a  month's 
public  debate.  The  government  published  the  draft  of  the  law  on 
May  26,  and  invited  free  nation-wide  discussion.  This  was  a  very 
democratic  procedure  and  encouraged  the  belief  that  the  Constitu- 
tion really  meant  something. 

The  Soviet  government  got  more  than  it  bargained  for.  The  draft 
legislation  was  universally  condemned.  The  Bolshevik  press  printed 
the  denunciations.  It  published  the  resolutions  adopted  by  factories 
and  workers*  clubs  criticizing  the  law.  "I  have  one  child  nearly  three 
years  old,"  wrote  a  woman  in  the  Moscow  .Daily  Ne*wsy  "and  would 
be  glad  to  have  another.  But  we  are  already  four  people,  including 
our  maid,  in  one  small  room,  and  in  my  opinion  it  would  be  a  crime 
to  bring  another  child  into  the  over-crowded  room."  Yet  under 
the  new  law  that  woman  would  have  to  have  a  second  and  third 
and  fourth  child.  For  she  is  not  entitled  to  an  abortion,  and  in  tightly 
packed  rooms,  without  toilet  facilities,  even  the  best  contraceptives 
may  not  work.  "In  a  room  of  twenty  square  meters  live  my  mother, 
my  husband,  and  our  two  children,  and  I.  I  want  another  child  but 
can  I  afford  it  in  these  circumstances?"  wrote  another  Soviet  mother. 

Before  1936,  the  Soviet  excess  of  births  over  deaths  was  officially 
stated  to  be  over  three  million  persons  annually.  Why  should  the 
Bolsheviks  have  wanted  a  still  larger  population?  In  my  articles 
against  the  abortion  law  I  made  comparisons  with  the  Nazi  statutes 
in  this  field.  I  talked  to  Commissar  of  Health  Kaminsky  and  vehe- 
mently attacked  the  law.  He  replied,  tcThe  Boss  says  we  must  have 
more  children." 

In  the  years  that  have  elapsed  since  1936,  the  shortage  of  rubber 
goods,  babies'  equipment,  and  apartment  houses  has  been  aggravated 


348      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

in  Soviet  Russia.  But  the  number  of  babies  has  multiplied.  More 
miserable  mothers,  more  miserable  fathers,  more  miserable  children, 
more  miserable  doctors.  Why?  No  valid  reason,  in  fact  no  logical 
reason  was  ever  given.  In  private,  physicians  and  social  workers  were 
in  despair. 

For  me,  almost  the  worst  aspect  of  die  new  anti-abortion  statute 
was  the  way  it  reflected  the  Kremlin's  contempt  for  the  voice  of 
the  people.  The  people  had  been  handed  the  draft  law  and  told  to 
criticize  it  freely.  They  did.  The  volume  of  negative  criticism  far 
exceeded  the  favorable  criticism.  But  a  month  later  the  draft  was 
republished,  with  two  or  three  very  minor  changes,  as  the  final  law. 
Then  what  was  the  point  of  the  discussion?  The  people  felt  de- 
feated. Was  this  the  manner  in  which  the  new  democracy  would 
function?  I  wrote  that  the  law  was  "a  mockery  of  the  democratic 
discussion"  and  expressed  the  hope  that  Russia's  first  real  Parlia- 
ment would  repeal  the  act  and  thus  "redeem  Soviet  democracy." 
That  was  a  naive  hope.  My  treatment  of  this  whole  situation  dis- 
played the  virtues  and  weakness  of  all  my  writing  on  Russia;  it  com- 
bined accurate  reporting  with  oversanguine  expectations. 

And  yet  the  Constitution  was  the  result  of  an  organic  growth.  In 
the  summer  of  1936,  I  traveled  many  thousands  of  miles  through 
the  Soviet  Union  together  with  an  Open  Road  group  of  Americans. 
All  were  intelligent.  Several— Helen  Hall,  who  is  Lillian  Wald's  suc- 
cessor at  the  Henry  Street  Settlement,  Paul  Kellogg,  editor  of 
Survey  Graphic,  Dr.  John  Lovejoy  Elliott,  president  of  the  Ethical 
Culture  Society  of  America,  and  Helen  M.  Harris,  director  of  the 
Union  Settlement  and  later  of  the  National  Youth  Administration 
in  New  York  City— had  special  training  in  social  work  and  social 
investigations  and  approached  Russia  with  critical,  unbiased  minds. 
They  were  favorably  impressed  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Soviet  peo- 
ple and  by  the  prodigious  official  effort  to  improve  conditions.  I 
knew  most  of  the  places  we  visited  from  numerous  previous  visits; 
economic  conditions  were  obviously  better. 

The  peasants  were  in  a  quieter  mood.  They  were  reconciled  to 
collectivization.  They  commenced  to  enjoy  a  few  of  its  benefits. 
They  still  complained  of  the  shortage  of  consumers'  goods,  but  they 
hoped.  The  class  struggle  had  abated.  The  terror  had  moderated. 
Soviet  citizens  talked  more  freely  in  private  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
express  their  views  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 


THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY  349 

The  monthly  magazine  Bolshevik  said,  "Now  that  .  .  .  our  so- 
ciety consists  solely  of  the  free  toilers  of  city  and  village— workers, 
peasants,  and  intellectuals—the  former  limitations  on  Soviet  democ- 
racy are  no  longer  necessary."  That  was  true. 

I  think,  therefore,  that  originally  Stalin  really  intended  the  Soviet 
Constitution  as  a  charter  of  greater  freedom.  I  never  believed  that 
Russia  would  immediately  become  completely  free  and  democratic. 
I  did  not  anticipate  the  legalization  of  opposition  parties.  But  I  ex- 
pected the  training  for  democracy  to  begin.  This  would  not  have 
required  Stalin  to  abdicate  all  his  power.  He  could  have  remained 
in  his  supreme  position  and  benevolently  watched  and  nurtured  the 
new  democratic  plant. 

Instead,  the  development  since  the  ratification  of  the  Constitu- 
tion has  been  altogether  in  the  opposite  direction,  in  the  direction 
of  more  purges,  greater  repression,  and  worse  economic  conditions. 

Two  chief  factors  seem  to  have  contributed  to  the  change:  Stalin's 
fear  of  personal  rivals— hence  the  purges— and  Stalin's  fear  of  a  for- 
eign attack  on  the  country— hence  the  new  "nationalism."  Apart 
from  this,  excessive  individual  power  must  simply  have  gone  to  his 
head.  "Absolute  power  corrupts  absolutely,"  Lord  Acton  wrote.  On 
no  other  basis  can  one  adequately  explain  his  setting  himself  up  as 
supreme  musical  critic.  Moreover,  the  joy  and  seriousness  with 
which  the  masses  greeted  the  Constitution  must  have  quickly  con- 
vinced Stalin  that  more  democracy  would  be  achieved  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  authority. 

I  have  turned  back  to  1933— before  the  big  trials  and  purges— and 
read  the  Soviet  papers  of  a  month  chosen  at  random.  No  normal  per- 
son with  good  taste  would  allow  himself  to  be  praised  so  fulsomely 
and  loathsomely  as  Stalin  did.  It  smacks  of  the  pathological.  The 
deletion  of  Trotzky's  name  from  Soviet  history  was  the  opposite 
side  of  this  medal.  The  Soviet  Union  did  not  need  this.  It  was  ready 
for  democracy. 

Yet  just  at  the  moment  when  the  Constitution,  product  of  more 
than  a  year's  drafting,  came  into  being,  the  personal  dictatorship 
showed  its  ugliest  face.  Just  as  the  country  thrilled  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, Stalin  staged  the  first  Moscow  trial  of  Bolshevik  leaders  in 
August,  1936.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  bloodiest  purge  in  his- 
tory. 

Except  for  the  big  purge  of  June,  1934,  there  has  been  little  violent 
reshuffling  of  Nazi  leadership.  Hitler  took  over  the  old  bureaucracy, 


350      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

the  old  army,  and  the  old  industrial  system.  He  changed  them  and 
added  to  them  but,  unlike  the  Bolsheviks,  he  did  not  scrap  them  and 
they  functioned  without  the  inefficiency  of  backward  Russia.  The 
more  important  explanation  of  the  difference,  however,  is  Stalin's 
sick  mental  attitude.  Hitler  is  unique  and  every  Nazi  acknowledges 
his  supremacy  and  indispensability.  Stalin,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
like  to  create  the  impression  of  his  indispensability  but  realizes  that 
he  has  not  and  cannot.  The  abnormal  rancor  and  fear  of  rivals 
which  this  failure  provokes  in  him  have  produced  the  abnormal  phe- 
nomenon of  the  permanent  purge.  Every  month  sees  a  new  batch 
of  front-rank  Bolsheviks  consigned  to  the  political  dust  heap. 

I  lived  in  Soviet  Russia  for  fourteen  years,  with  interruptions.  I 
learned  to  know  many  people.  I  made  many  friends.  I  think  if  I  re- 
turned now  I  would  find  few  if  any  in  office  or  in  their  homes.  Most 
of  them  have  been  shot  or  exiled.  I  continue  to  read  the  Soviet  news- 
papers from  time  to  time.  I  hardly  know  any  of  the  names,  except 
for  a  handful  of  top  leaders.  The  others  have  disappeared  in  the 
purge. 

I  was  in  Kiev  when  the  August,  1936,  trial  of  Zinoviev  and  Kam- 
enev  was  announced.  I  debated  with  myself  for  a  while  whether  to 
go  back  to  Moscow  for  the  proceedings  or  go  to  see  the  war  in 
Spain.  But  I  preferred  a  fight  to  a  foregone  conclusion.  I  felt  in- 
stinctively that  a  very  dark  period  of  Soviet  history  was  about  to 
open.  Spain  was  sad  enough  when  I  got  there.  But  it  was  also  noble. 
I  was  happy  that  a  situation  had  arisen  which  took  me  away  from 
Russia  and  took  my  mind  off  the  disturbing  events  in  Russia. 


21.  Holy  War 

THE  war  in  Spain  lasted  from  July,  1936,  to  March,  1939.  It 
was  a  holy  war  because  it  was  a  war  for  peace.  It  was  a  holy 
war  because  it  was  a  war  from  freedom.  Spain  had  been  free. 
It  became  Fascist.  All  those  who  helped  Franco  win  contributed  to 
the  advent  of  the  second  World  War.  All  those  who  helped  Franco 
win  helped  to  suppress  democracy.  Hitler  and  Mussolini  regarded 
the  Spanish  War  as  a  war  to  make  Europe,  and  other  continents,  safe 
for  war  and  autocracy. 

Japan  attacked  Manchuria  in  1931.  But  that  was  far  away.  Italy 
invaded  Abyssinia  in  1935.  But  Abyssinia  was  savage.  Now,  how- 
ever, Hitler  and  Mussolini  had  dared  to  invade  a  European  country, 
a  country  neighboring  on  France,  a  country  from  which  the  British 
and  French  empires  could  be  threatened.  Here,  indeed,  was  a  totali- 
tarian challenge  to  the  democracies.  They  took  it  lying  down. 

I  was  in  Soviet  Russia  when  General  Francisco  Franco  broke  his 
oath  to  the  Spanish  Republic.  I  decided  immediately  to  go  to  Spain. 
But  I  could  not  go  immediately  because  I  was  under  contract  to  lead 
my  Open  Road  tourist  group  through  the  Soviet  Union.  I  left  Rus- 
sia with  the  tourists,  stopped  overnight  in  Warsaw,  took  a  ten-day 
rest  at  a  beautifully  quiet  health  resort  in  Czechoslovakia  where  Mar- 
koosha  had  brought  Vitya  for  a  cure,  and  then  flew  to  Paris. 

In  Paris  I  visited  Andre  Malraux,  French  novelist.  Veteran  of  the 
Chinese  nationalist  struggle  against  Japan,  he  had  thrown  himself 
completely  into  the  Spanish  conflict.  His  apartment  on  the  Rue  de 
Bac  was  filled  with  ancient  and  pale  graven  images  which  he  had 
brought  from  his  explorations  in  Indo-China,  with  delicate  old  Chi- 
nese papyrus  prints,  and  with  paper  editions  of  the  world's  best  lit- 
erature. Clara,  his  wife,  told  me  he  was  busy  in  the  next  room.  I 
waited. 

4 Will  he  be  much  longer?  What  is  he  doing  in  there?"  I  asked 
impatiently. 

"He's  buying  tanks," 

Malraux  also  bought  airplanes  with  Loyalist  money  in  Czechoslo- 

3S1 


352      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

vakia,  Belgium,  and  France.  In  France,  to  his  eternal  credit,  Pierre 
Cot,  French  air  minister,  understood  the  meaning  of  patriotism  and 
helped  Malraux.  Malraux  applied  the  inventiveness  of  a  great  novel- 
ist to  buying  arms  and  gun  running.  He  later  served  as  a  machine 
gunner  on  a  Loyalist  bomber.  Though  he  was  always  soberly  realis- 
tic, the  proximity  of  death  excited  him.  He  has  a  machine-gun  mind. 
It  shoots  out  short  sentences  full  of  thought  and  penetration.  He 
respects  the  intelligence  of  those  who  understand  him.  Born  in  1895, 
he  looked  thirty  at  forty.  His  figure  is  trim  and  he  moves  with  a 
quick  glide.  His  long,  distinguished-looking  head  is  as  full  of  nervous 
movement  as  of  ideas;  muscles  in  his  neck  involuntarily  throw  his 
head  upward  at  frequent  intervals.  He  has  sallow  skin,  Basedow's- 
disease  eyes,  and  a  long  skein  of  straight  hair  which  falls  down  over 
his  forehead  as  he  talks.  He  never  stops  smoking,  lighting  one  ciga- 
rette with  the  burning  butt  of  its  predecessor.  He  is  not  a  Bohe- 
mian. Poet  and  philosopher,  he  is  essentially  a  fighter  and  man  of 
action,  and  he  believes  in  discipline.  He  led,  but  he  also  served  under 
others  with  a  meekness  and  self-abnegation  unusual  in  geniuses  or 
in  leftist  writers.  He  despised  wasted  words,  wasted  effort,  wasted 
time,  and  most  writers.  Self -sure  but  open  to  advice,  he  is  an  anar- 
chist ready  to  wear  harness  for  a  cause,  and  anti-Fascism  is  the  cause. 
In  defeat  he  was  as  buoyant  as  when  working  for  victory.  Never 
a  Communist,  he  worked  closely  with  the  Communists  in  France 
and  Spain,  but  when  the  Soviet-Nazi  pact  was  signed  on  August  23, 
1939,  he  said  to  me  in  Paris,  "We  are  back  at  zero."  The  Left  move- 
ment was  mortally  wounded,  he  believed,  but  he  wanted  to  start  all 
over  again.  Too  old  for  the  air  force,  he  enlisted  in  the  French  tank 
corps,  and  he  hoped,  after  several  months  at  the  front,  to  go  to 
America  and  explain  the  stakes  which  artists  and  radicals  had  in  an 
Allied  victory.  In  the  great  French  military  debacle,  however,  he 
was  wounded,  taken  prisoner  by  the  Nazis,  and  escaped. 

With  recommendations  from  Malraux  and  the  Spanish  Embassy 
in  Paris  I  flew  over  the  Pyrenees  into  Spain  in  mid-September, 
1936.  I  stopped  in  Barcelona  and  Valencia,  and  finally  reached 
Madrid.  The  first  glance  made  it  clear  that  Franco  had  succeeded 
in  launching  the  social  revolution  which  he  and  Azaiia  had  hoped 
to  prevent.  For  blue  denim  was  on  top,  and  the  workingmen's  quar- 
ters had  moved  into  the  center  of  the  cities.  Workingmen  were  not 
on  tour  in  the  fashionable  avenues  as  they  are  Sunday  afternoons  on 
Unter  den  Linden  in  Berlin,  where  they  gaze  about  as  though  visit- 


HOLY  WAR  353 

ing  a  foreign  country.  They  had  taken  possession.  They  filled  the 
cafes  and  lounged  on  street  corners.  Thousands  of  enlisted  men 
wore  a  uniform  which  carried  the  factory  into  the  army.  It  con- 
sisted of  a  one-piece  blue  overall,  or  "mono?  with  a  long  zipper 
down  the  front  and  zippers  to  close  the  pockets.  (The  men  loved 
the  zippers.)  Middle-class  and  upper-class  citizens  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  recognize  the  new  trend  by  discarding  neckties  and  hats  and 
preferring  their  old  suits. 

Some  of  the  men  I  had  met  on  previous  trips  were  now  in  the 
government.  Caballero  was  Prime  Minister,  del  Vayo  Foreign  Min- 
ister and  Negrin  Finance  Minister.  But  the  government  was  very 
little  in  evidence.  The  atmosphere  was  dominated  by  the  political 
parties  which  tended  to  act  as  autonomous  states.  Each  party  had 
its  own  military  insignia  and  its  own  strongly  fortified  headquar- 
ters. When  the  owners  of  hotels,  industrial  plants,  and  stores  fled 
to  join  Franco  or  were  killed  or  arrested  because  they  supported 
Franco,  the  parties  took  over  the  abandoned  property.  Because  the 
CNT,  or  anarcho-syndicalist  trade  union,  was  quickest  on  the  trig- 
ger at  the  spot,  it  now  managed  the  Gran  Vk  Hotel.  But  the  semi- 
Trotzkyist  POUM  had  seized  the  Capitol  Hotel,  while  the  Com- 
munist party  rushed  in  and  appropriated  the  Catholic  El  Debate's 
printing  presses.  Even  sectors  of  the  front  were  divided  among  the 
parties.  The  Loyalists  as  a  national  government  had  yet  to  assert 
themselves. 

After  two  months  of  war,  what  was  the  military  situation  in  Sep- 
tember, 1936?  It  revealed  the  Loyalists'  strength  and  weaknesses.  It 
explains  why  Franco  could  not  win  until  spring,  1939. 

The  workingmen  of  Madrid,  Barcelona  and  Bilbao,  largest  cities 
of  the  land,  had  seized  the  cities  in  July,  1936,  when  Franco  rebelled. 
Armed  with  staves  and  stones,  they  attacked  the  barracks  and  routed 
the  soldiers  who  offered  only  as  much  resistance  as  their  officers 
could  squeeze  out  of  them.  Other  big  towns— Valencia,  Alicante, 
Malaga,  Albacete,  Cartagena,  in  fact,  all  important  towns  except 
Seville  and  Saragossa,  were  also  in  Loyalist  hands.  The  urban  popu- 
lation of  the  country  consisting  chiefly  of  factory  workers,  profes- 
sional people,  and  middle  class,  did  not,  in  its  bulk,  join  Franco's 
camp. 

The  Loyalists  held  almost  all  the  important  units  of  the  navy.  When 
Franco  rebelled,  the  officers  tried  to  take  the  navy  over  to  him.  The 


354      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

sailors  threw  the  officers  into  the  sea  or  killed  them  or  forced  them 
to  flee.  The  result  was  that  the  Loyalists  had  the  ships  but  lacked 
experienced  personnel  for  their  use.  Not  until  the  Russians  arrived 
months  later  did  the  fleet  begin  to  function  at  all,  and  even  then  its 
performance  was  not  important,  and  it  never  became  a  very  profi- 
cient arm. 

The  Loyalist  land  forces  consisted  of  a  small  number  of  loyal  sol- 
diers, a  small  number  of  loyal  officers,  and  many  thousands  of  vol- 
unteer militiamen  whose  zeal  did  not  compensate  for  their  Spanish 
abhorrence  of  discipline  and  their  complete  ignorance  of  warfare. 
The  workingmen  who  had  prevented  Franco  from  establishing  his 
sway  over  the  cities  were  entering  the  militia  and  looking  for  the 
first  time  at  a  rifle.  Some  of  them  who  had  rifles  actually  fired  a  few 
rounds  on  ranges  before  rushing  off  to  the  front  to  face  Franco's 
trained  and  ferocious  Moors.  Others  waited  in  the  rear  for  arms. 

These  militiamen,  then,  were  organized  not  into  one  regular  army 
but  into  several  party  armies.  The  Communists  had  their  militia  regi- 
ments, the  Anarchists  their  columns,  the  Socialists  and  Republicans 
their  own  units.  These  obeyed  the  orders  first  of  their  party  chiefs, 
and  if  the  central  government  wanted  the  service  of  the  units  it  had 
to  negotiate  with  the  parties.  This  phenomenon  was  the  result  of 
unusual  circumstances.  The  bulk  of  the  army  went  over  to  Franco. 
Before  the  vacillating  government  knew  what  had  happened,  the 
political  organizations  called  for  volunteers  and  began  to  train  them. 
Yet  this  was  so  much  in  the  spirit  of  Spain,  that  Largo  Caballero, 
who  became  Prime  Minister  in  September,  1936,  long  resisted  the 
idea  of  a  regular  army,  and  it  was  only  with  difficulty  that  his  Soviet 
military  advisers  persuaded  him  to  abandon  the  popular  but  ineffi- 
cient form  of  party. armies.  Even  then  the  party  military  regiments 
persisted  for  a  long  time,  and  the  International  Brigade  itself  was  in 
a  sense  a  remnant  of  the  early  system. 

The  Loyalist  army,  such  as  it  was,  boasted  a  small  air  force.  Many 
pilots  stayed  with  the  government.  But  their  machines  were  old  cof- 
fins. Here  Andr£  Malraux  performed  an  invaluable,  historic  service. 
His  Foreign  Legion  of  the  Air,  which  he  recruited  abroad,  and 
which  flew  the  planes  he  purchased  abroad,  disputed  the  Fascists* 
mastery  of  the  air  and  reinforced  Loyalist  resistance  at  a  time  when 
it  might  otherwise  have  collapsed  in  August,  1936. 

The  Loyalist  air  force,  however,  was  no  match  for  Franco's  air 
force  which  consisted  entirely  of  new  German  and  Italian  machines 


HOLY  WAR  355 

flown  by  skilled,  highly  trained  men.  Franco  received  planes  from 
Germany  and  Italy  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  revolt,  and  with 
their  aid  he  ferried  troops  across  the  straits  from  Morocco  to  Spain. 
These  troops  quickly  proceeded  north  towards  Seville,  and  took 
Badajoz,  Caceres,  and  other  parts  of  Andalusia.  Here  they  operated 
in  areas  filled  with  disgruntled,  impecunious  land-hungry  peasants 
who  were  pro-Loyalist.  Until  the  Moors  arrived  these  republicans 
sided  with  Madrid  against  the  disloyal  generals. 

The  rebels  themselves  conceded  this.  The  Communist  Atrocities,  a 
Franco  book  published  in  London  "by  the  authority  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Investigation  appointed  by  the  government  at  Burgos" 
states,  for  instance,  that  in  Almendralejo,  province  of  Badajoz,  "the 
arrests  [of  "anti-reds"]  took  place  from  July  18  to  August  6,  the  eve 
of  the  entrance  of  the  troops  into  city"— which  means  that  the  Loy- 
alist civilian  government  continued  in  control  until  Franco  brought 
in  his  Moors  from  Africa.  Antequera,  in  the  province  of  Malaga, 
"experienced  the  reign  of  red  terror  which  lasted  from  July  18 
until  August  12."  Likewise  Azuaga,  in  the  province  of  Badajoz, 
which  "from  the  first  day  of  the  military  rising,  July  18,  till  De- 
cember 24  ...  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Communist  element."  And 
Burguillos  del  Cerro,  in  the  province  of  Badajoz,  "was  in  the  hands 
of  the  reds  from  July  15  till  September  14,  on  which  date  the  Na- 
tionalist army  obtained  possession  of  it." 

Further,  "the  reign  of  Communists  in  Espejo,  in  the  province  of 
Cordoba,  dates  from  July  22  ...  till  September  25,  the  day  on 
which  our  victorious  troops  occupied  the  town."  "During  a  period 
of  two  months  the  inhabitants  of  Ronda,  in  the  province  of  Malaga, 
were  under  the  control  of  Communists."  El  Saucejo,  a  town  of  6,588 
inhabitants  in  the  province  of  Seville,  "was  taken  by  the  Nationalist 
forces  on  September  4."  Until  then  the  Loyalists  ruled  this  place 
which  is  in  the  heart  of  Franco  land.  These  instances  could  be  mul- 
tiplied endlessly.  On  the  basis  of  Franco's  own  evidence  it  is  clear 
that  the  Spaniards  did  not  want  Franco.  There  was  not  a  single  case 
where  the  civilian  population  rose  up  and  took  over  power  in  the 
name  of  the  insurgents.  Franco's  revolt  was  an  army  coup. 

(It  should  be  noted  that  "Nationalist"  as  used  in  this  rebel  publi- 
cation always  means  the  army  of  Moors,  Nazi  pilots,  and  paid  mer- 
cenaries, while  "Communist"  is  a  synonym  for  the  Popular  Front, 
which  consisted  of  many  parties,  including  some  strongly  anti-Com- 
munist.) 


356      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

As  far  as  the  civilian  population  was  concerned,  Franco  had  lost 
the  war  in  July,  1936.  But  he  immediately  received  Moroccan  and 
foreign  military  aid  and,  together  with  the  Spanish  reactionaries  who 
had  always  obstructed  Spain's  social  progress,  he  commenced  the 
conquest  of  his  own  country. 

Having  occupied  Badajoz,  Caceres,  and  other  territory  inhabited 
by  pro-Loyalists,  the  Franco  legions  dashed  northward  and  formed 
a  junction  with  the  northern  provinces  of  Navarre  and  Aragon 
which  were  the  traditional  strongholds  of  agrarian  reaction  and  roy- 
alism.  Franco  thus  separated  the  Asturias  mining  area  and  the  Basque 
region— both  passionately  Loyalist— from  the  rest  of  republican  Spain. 
This  divided  the  Loyalist  strength,  made  co-ordinated  defense  im- 
possible and  ended  with  the  occupation  of  the  Basque  region  by  the 
Fascists  in  the  summer  of  1937.  In  the  first  months  of  the  war,  ac- 
cordingly, the  Loyalists  lost  a  considerable  portion  of  their  effective 
peasant  support  and  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  the  war  a  valuable 
portion  of  their  proletarian  support. 

By  September,  1936,  Franco  had  taken  Talavera  and  was  moving 
on  Toledo.  Inside  Toledo,  a  body  of  rebels  had  seized  the  Alcazar 
fortress,  and  the  Loyalists  were  besieging  the  fortress. 

With  a  note  which  Malraux  gave  me  in  Paris  I  got  a  room  in  the 
Florida  Hotel,  headquarters  of  Malraux's  foreign  air  squadron.  In 
the  afternoon,  I  went  with  Clara  Malraux  and  Martha  Huysmans, 
daughter  of  the  Socialist  mayor  of  Antwerp,  to  the  airfield  at  BarajaS, 
outside  Madrid.  Beyond  the  city  limits,  the  air  was  soft  and  fragrant, 
the  sun  shone  bright,  peasants  nodded  on  their  covered  carts  or 
threshed  grain  by  pulling  large  cylinders  of  white  stone  over  it.  The 
scene  was  competely  pastoral  until  we  reached  the  camouflaged  han- 
gars of  the  airdrome. 

We  ate  an  excellent  meal  in  the  airfield  restaurant  and  then  ad- 
journed to  its  cocktail  lounge  for  liqueurs.  Pilots  lay  on  deck  chairs 
on  the  terrace,  slept  or  played  cards  or  listened  to  radio  jazz.  Sud- 
denly an  airplane  circled  over  the  field.  As  it  descended,  men  ran 
out  to  meet  it  and  so  did  we.  It  was  a  beautiful  tapering  steel-color 
Fiat  fighter.  A  handsome  tall  pilot  pulled  off  his  helmet  and  jumped 
out.  First  a  stream  of  French  oaths  poured  out  of  him.  He  was  a 
rich  Frenchman  named  Darr6  who  flew  for  the  Loyalists  until  1939— 
unharmed.  Nervously  lighting  a  cigarette,  he  puffed  and  swore  some 
more.  'Tive  Italians  attacked  me,  and  not  one  of  my  machine  guns 


HOLY  WAR  357 

would  work.  Every  one  jammed."  I  lifted  myself  up  into  the  cock- 
pit. It  was  a  one-seater.  The  pilot  was  his  own  gunner.  Near  his 
elbow  were  four  little  black  buttons.  As  he  pushed  one  down,  the 
machine  gun  whose  nozzle  stuck  out  from  the  plane  wing  would 
start  firing.  "Five  Italians,"  Darre  repeated,  "and  I  couldn't  get  a 
single  shot  at  them."  A  Spanish  mechanic  started  looking  over  the 
plane.  A  big  bomber  came  overhead.  Darre  had  accompanied  it.  The 
pilot  came  out  first,  then  three  gunners  with  parachutes  like  big  tur- 
tles on  their  backs.  They  called  for  help.  They  had  two  wounded 
inside.  An  ambulance  raced  towards  die  plane.  Two  men  were 
quickly  laid  on  operating  tables  in  the  airfield  clinic  and  undressed. 
One  gunner,  a  Frenchman,  had  a  wound  in  the  temple,  a  wound  in 
the  right  shoulder,  three  in  the  right  breast,  and  one  in  the  left  breast. 
All  were  only  skin-deep  and  had  glanced  off  and  embedded  them- 
selves in  the  side  of  the  airplane.  The  doctor  dressed  the  wounds, 
put  his  right  arm  in  a  sling,  and  gave  the  airman  a  mixture  of  strong 
coffee  and  cognac.  Later  I  saw  him  in  the  restaurant  naked  to  the 
waist  and  wrapped  in  a  white  blanket,  the  center  of  a  circle  of  friends 
to  whom  he  was  hero  for  an  hour. 

The  pilot  of  the  bomber  was  Abel  Guidex,  a  French  university 
graduate.  He  had  been  bombing  Franco's  front  lines.  He  ordered  the 
plane  filled  with  bombs  and  petrol.  He  was  going  up  again.  Mean- 
while he  would  have  lunch.  Clara  Malraux,  Martha  Huysmans  and 
I  sat  at  the  table  with  him.  Both  women  were  in  love  with  him.  He 
had  a  young,  round,  brown  face  and  a  boyish  smile.  He  smiled  al- 
most incessantly.  He  ate  heartily.  Then  we  had  coffee  with  him  at 
the  bar.  He  looked  out  to  the  field.  The  plane  was  being  warmed 
up.  The  airfield  commander  asked  two  Spaniards  whether  they  would 
go  .up  in  pkce  of  the  wounded  gunners.  They  said  they  had  early 
evening  appointments  in  Madrid.  An  Englishman  and  a  Venezuelan 
volunteered.  We  saw  them  take  off.  Guidex  waved  a  jolly  farewell. 
I  talked  to  him  that  evening  in  the  Florida  Hotel.  He  was  an  anti- 
Fascist,  not  a  Communist;  old  friend  of  Malraux's.  He  flew  every 
day  on  dangerous  assignments.  And  came  back  smiling,  until  the 
day  he  was  burned  to  cinders  inside  his  plane.  The  Germans  in  north- 
ern Spain  got  him.  They  would  never  have  got  him  if  he  had  been 
armed.  He  had  agreed  to  fly  the  commercial  plane  from  Bordeaux 
to  Loyalist-held  Santander.  Since  he  started  on  French  territory,  he 
could  not  carry  maqhine  guns.  He  nevertheless  made  the  trip  regu- 
larly for  weeks.  Each  day,  German  spies  at  Bordeaux  notified  their 


358      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

friends  in  Spain  that  Guidex  had  just  taken  off.  They  waited  for  him 
in  the  air  and  attacked.  He  escaped.  Friends  warned  him  to  quit. 
But  he  said  the  defenders  of  Santander  needed  the  medical  supplies 
and  food  he  brought  them  every  afternoon.  Finally  his  machine  was 
riddled  by  incendiary  bullets  and  set  on  fire. 

Martha  Huysmans  stayed  in  Spain  until  the  very  last  day  of  the 
war,  always  going  to  the  hottest  sectors  of  the  front  and  writing 
about  her  experiences  in  a  Belgian  paper.  She  was  completely  reck- 
less after  Guidex  died.  She  was  trying  to  die  in  Spain.  It  was  not 
her  fault  that  nothing  hit  her.  Later  she  reported  the  Finnish  war, 
and  condemned  the  Soviet  invasion.  As  a  child  she  had  fled  from 
Antwerp  when  the  Germans  approached  in  1914.  In  1940,  she  fled 
again  and  took  refuge,  with  her  father,  in  London. 

The  first  evening  in  Madrid  I  went  to  the  Oro  del  Rhin.  Every 
evening  at  eight  Luis  Araquistain,  Caballero's  friend,  went  there  for 
a  glass  of  beer.  He  sat  there  in  peace-time.  War  did  not  break  the 
habit.  He  was  now  Ambassador-designate  to  Paris.  He  discussed  the 
internal  political  situation.  The  new  Caballero  government  had 
slightly  improved  conditions,  but  the  Anarchists,  he  said,  seemed  to 
be  looking  for  trouble.  The  Socialists  and  Communists  wished  to 
avoid  an  open  clash  that  would  help  Franco  advance  even  more  rap- 
idly. Araquistain  said  the  Anarchists  of  the  FAI  and  CNT  rejected 
discipline,  committed  murders,  and  defied  the  government. 

'With  a  hundred  airplanes,"  he  declared,  "we  could  win  the  war." 
But  England,  France,  Germany,  Italy,  Russia,  and  lesser  countries 
had  organized  the  Non-intervention  Committee  and  agreed  not  to 
intervene  in  Spain.  Up  to  date,  this  had  meant  that  England  and 
France  and  Russia  had  not  intervened,  while  Germany  and  Italy  had. 

The  next  morning  I  drove  out  to  the  ancient  Moorish  city  of  To- 
ledo, forty-seven  miles  from  Madrid  by  excellent  highway.  When 
the  revolt  broke  out  in  July,  the  Loyalists  retained  the  city.  A  'thou- 
sand rebels  and  their  women  folk,  however,  made  a  dash  for  thfc  fort- 
ress which  dominates  the  city.  They  were  Civil  Guards,  arnr^  offi- 
cers, landlords1  sons  and  Fascists.  They  took  with  them  five  hi] 
hostages,  women  and  children  of  loyal  Republican  Toledo  fa 
The  Alcazar  had  walls  three  yards  thick  and  was  built  in  a 
solid  granite  rock  which  extended  some  distance  up  its  walls, 
were  three  floors  of  subterranean  cellars  in  the  rock.  Here  the 


HOLY  WAR  359 

of  the  defenders  and  the  non-combatants  remained  while  those  on 
duty  held  positions  in  the  debris  of  its  battlements. 

For  six  weeks,  four  to  six  thousand  Loyalist  troops  had  battered 
the  eighteenth-century  Alcazar  unavailingly.  First,  Madrid  had 
hoped  to  starve  them  into  surrender.  But  now  Franco  was  approach- 
ing Toledo. 

The  Alcazar  was  smoking.  Three  of  its  towers  were  gone;  the 
fourth  was  intact,  its  steeple  against  the  sky.  With  the  exception  of 
one  wall,  the  whole  superstructure  had  been  reduced  to  one  high 
heap  of  uneven  blocks  of  brick  and  mortar,  splinters  of  rock,  and 
piles  of  broken  plaster.  At  intervals  of  two  minutes,  shells  burst  in 
the  debris  with  terrific  impact.  Thousands  of  rifles  cracked  inces- 
santly, and  little  puffs  of  white  dust  jumped  up  where  the  bullets  hit. 

Miners  from  Asturias  dug  a  tunnel  under  the  citadel,  filled  it  with 
six  tons  of  dynamite,  and  ignited  it.  Debris  flew  thirty  feet  into  the 
air.  The  streets  of  Toledo  were  sprinkled  with  glass  and  roof  tile. 
The  explosion  was  to.  have  been  preliminary  to  an  assault  on  the 
Alcazar.  But  the  three  hundred  men  chosen  for  the  task  waited  until 
the  dust  had  settled,  and  by  that  time  the  defenders  of  the  Alcazar 
had  returned  to  their  defense  posts  and  met  the  attackers  with  with- 
ering machine-gun  fire  which  drove  them  back.  Barcelo,  who  com- 
manded the  attacking  party  was  wounded  in  the  leg.  He  passed  the 
command  to  Luis  Quintan  ilia,  celebrated  Spanish  artist.  But  before 
Quintanilla  could  rally  his  men  a  sergeant  ordered  a  retreat.  I  talked 
to  the  men  later.  They  said  the  sergeant  was  a  Fascist.  Nobody  could 
find  him. 

Toledo  became  a  disease.  Every  morning  I  decided  to  stay  in 
Madrid  and  see  friends.  But  if  Henry  Buckley  of  the  London  Ob- 
server or  Jan  Yindrich  of  the  United  Press  or  some  other  corre- 
spondent phoned  and  said  he  was  going  out  to  the  Alcazar  and  asked 
if  I  wanted  to  come  along,  I  invariably  said,  **Yes." 

On  the  second  day,  I  toured  Toledo  with  Yindrich,  an  English- 
man who  spoke  excellent  Spanish*  We  went  from  house  to  house 
making  a  semi-circular  tour  around  the  Alcazar.  Every  house  was 
a  fortress.  Soldiers  stood  at  its  barricaded  windows  firing  into  the 
Afe:azar  with  machine  guns  and  rifles.  Wfien  they  weren't  firing 
they  lay  down  to  sleep  on  the  beds  and  sofas  of  thejformer  resi- 
dents. On  the  floor  of  one  parlor  I  picked  up  a  glossy  sepia  photo- 
graph of  a  newlywed  couple.  The  bridegroom  looks  tie  typical 
workingman,  short,  wiry,  with  short-cropped  black  hair.  He  is  wear- 


360      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ing  sandals.  The  bride  is  obviously  frightened.  Her  big  eyes  are 
opened  wide  and  her  mouth  is  nervous.  She  is  dressed  in  her  best: 
bedroom  slippers,  a  skirt  and  white  waist.  On  the  back  of  the  por- 
trait she  wrote  a  message  to  her  mother  in  a  semi-literate  hand.  I 
stuck  the  photograph  into  my  pocket.  I  have  kept  it  on  my  table 
while  writing  about  the  Spanish  War.  These  two  people  are  my 
Spain.  I  often  wonder  what  happened  to  them.  Perhaps  they  are 
dead.  A  million  Spaniards  died  in  the  Spanish  War.  One  in  every 
twenty-five  inhabitants. 

Yindrich  and  I  passed  the  famous  Cathedral,  now  closed  and  care- 
fully guarded,  the  El  Greco  house  still  filled  with  priceless  paintings 
but  protected  from  ground  to  roof  by  walls  of  sandbags,  and  numer- 
ous private  homes  where  we  could  see  women  in  black  sitting  in  blue 
patios  knitting,  sewing,  and  gossiping.  Children  played  in  the  streets- 
die  girls  were  nurses,  the  boys  soldiers.  But  the  boys  had  trouble 
because  no  one  wanted  to  be  a  Fascist. 

A  plaza  separated  the  Alcazar  from  a  row  of  houses.  The  houses 
had  been  hit  repeatedly  by  shots  from  the  Alcazar.  In  front  of  one 
house  stood  an  armored  car  spitting  fire  toward  the  fortress.  We 
dashed  across  the  street,  caught  one  breath  behind  the  armored  car, 
and  entered  a  house.  Its  short  vestibule  was  covered  to  a  height  of 
several  feet  with  broken  blue  tiles.  Soldiers  sat  on  the  smooth  sur- 
faces and  rested  their  chins  on  their  rifles.  (Yesterday  one  of  them 
had  inadvertently  shot  himself  through  the  mouth  that  way.) 
Through  a  breach  in  the  vestibule  wall  we  climbed  into  the  corner 
store.  On  a  high  wooden  stool  was  perched  an  old  man  with  gray 
porcupine  hair.  On  the  counter  lay  rolls  or  ribbons,  cards  of  buttons, 
a  measuring  rod,  chips  of  tile— all  covered  with  fine  dust.  His  money 
drawer  was  pulled  back.  The  wooden  money  cups  were  empty.  But 
he  was  there  ready  for  business.  The  iron  shutters  were  down.  Oc- 
casionally a  shot  from  the  Alcazar  hit  the  shutters  or  a  ricocheting 
bullet  rang  against  them.  In  the  evening  customers  might  come.  What 
else  had  die  old  man  to  do? 

We  climbed  upstairs.  We  saw  the  private  lives  of  evacuated  fami- 
lies. Books  and  students'  copybooks,  letters,  and  clothing  on  the 
floors;  sideboards  pushed  against  windows  to  protect  soldiers  inside; 
rice  and  sugar  in  containers  that  sat  peacefully  on  kitchen  shelves; 
and  everywhere— photographs.  Two  soldiers  followed  us  around. 
They  were  merely  curious.  Now  and  then  one  of  them  leaned  against 
the  window  and  fired  towards  the  Alcazar. 


HOLY  WAR  361 

"Do  you  see  anything?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "but  I  received  this  Mexican  rifle  yesterday  and 
I  want  to  try  it  out."  His  buddy  felt  called  upon  to  do  Kkewise. 
"Shooting  warms  me  up,"  he  explained.  The  day  was  chilly  and  wet. 

On  the  third  day  of  my  stay  in  Madrid,  I  called  on  Marcel  Rosen- 
berg, the  Soviet  Ambassador.  He  reproached  me  for  not  having  come 
sooner.  I  told  him  I  had  been  at  Toledo  most  of  the  time,  and  be- 
sides I  wanted  to  look  around  so  as  to  have  some  basis  for  an  intelli- 
gent conversation.  Thereafter,  I  saw  him  practically  every  day  until 
he  left  Madrid.  We  would  talk  either  in  his  room  which  was  also 
his  office,  or  he  would  take  me  in  his  car  to  a  park  or  a  working- 
men's  quarter  where  we  would  walk.  He  was  a  very  weak  and  sick 
man  and  he  had  to  take  a  certain  amount  of  mild  exercise  daily. 
When  we  drove,  a  guard  of  the  Spanish  intelligence  service  sat  with 
the  chauffeur  and  our  car  was  followed  by  another  fast  car.  It  was 
filled  with  six  young  bodyguards.  They  jumped  out  of  their  car  the 
moment  Rosenberg's  car  stopped.  They  followed  him  wherever  he 
went  and  he  would  sometimes  turn  around  and  shoo  them  away.  If 
he  stepped  into  a  pissoir  on  the  Cuatro  Caminos,  they  surrounded 
its  tin  walls  and  waited. 

Once  we  got  out  in  a  park  where  militiamen  were  training.  They 
recognized  him  right  away,  saluted  with  the  clenched  fist  and 
shouted,  "Viva  Rusia" 

"Viva  Espana"  he  yelled  back.  The  men  were  amused. 

"That's  the  Fascist  cry,"  I  told  him.  "You  should  say,  'Viva  la 
Republican  " 

"Viva  la  Republic*,"  he  yelled. 

We  stopped  at  street  corners  to  listen  to  people  discuss  the  war 
and  watched  demonstrations  and  stood  in  front  of  stores. 

"More  goods  in  this  shop  after  months  of  war  than  in  the  best 
Moscow  store,"  I  commented. 

"Now,  now,"  he  smiled,  "no  counter-revolution." 

In  the  Embassy,  Rosenberg  introduced  me  to  two  Embassy  sec- 
retaries, Orlov  and  Belayev.  I  sat  with  them  in  a  room  and  discussed 
Russia.  Something  made  me  talk  about  the  GPU,  and  from  the  way 
they  listened  I  knew  that  my  guess  was  right;  they  were  GPU  men. 
Orlov,  I  later  learned,  was  the  chief  of  the  GPU  agents  in  Loyalist 
territory.  He  spoke  English  well,  dressed  dapperly,  was  good-look- 
ing and  very  intelligent.  He  also  went  by  the  name  of  Liova. 


362      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  Embassy  military  attache  was  General  Goriev.  He  spoke 
English  with  perfection,  was  tall  and  handsome.  In  his  manner  and 
appearance  this  pure  Slav  seemed  more  like  a  Britisher.  He  smoked 
a  pipe,  behaved  nonchalantly,  and  smiled  in  the  tensest  situations. 
He  talked  freely  to  me  about  the  disastrous  position  at  the  front. 

"With  a  thousand  fellows  of  the  Red  Army  I  would  take  the 
Alcazar  in  twenty-four  hours,"  he  said.  Another  foreign  military 
attache  gave  me  die  same  estimate  of  the  Loyalist  forces  at  Toledo. 

I  repeated  this  to  a  high  Loyalist  official.  He  said,  "One  thousand 
good  soldiers?  We  haven't  got  them.  Besides,  half  might  be  killed 
in  the  attempt."  Thousands  were  killed  kter  because  the  attempt 
was  not  made. 

At  supper  one  evening  in  the  Florida  Hotel,  a  young  Spanish 
woman  told  me  that  die  chief  physician  of  the  Loyalist  forces  in 
Toledo  had  been  executed.  He  had  sent  messages  by  secret  radio  to 
the  rebels  in  the  Alcazar  and  to  Franco's  headquarters.  She  had  just 
brought  his  code  to  Madrid.  Cases  of  sabotage  and  treachery  in  gov- 
ernment ranks  were  numerous. 

A  little  Chevrolet  car  was  parked  outside  the  hotel.  Inside,  a  civilian 
read  a  newspaper.  He  leaned  his  shoulder  against  a  hatless  peroxide- 
blonde  young  woman;  she  was  wearing  a  Silk  dress.  On  the  radiator 
was  a  huge  red  flag  and  on  the  doors,  in  large  letters,  were  painted 
the  words  EAGLETS  OF  DEATH. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  uniformed  men  and  shrieking,  hoot- 
ing, speeding  autos.  There  was  no  traffic  control  and  each  driver 
set  his  own  speed  limit.  The  big  pavement  cafes,  drowned  in  sun, 
were  filled  with  soldiers  and  workingmen  sipping  coffee  and  talk- 
ing war  and  revolution.  Numerous  vendors  did  business  on  the  ce- 
ment pavements.  One  sold  combs,  razor  blades,  Sam  Browne  belts, 
soap,  and  toy  rifles.  His  neighbor  did  a  rushing  business  in  maps  of 
Spain.  Women  sold  Madrid's  numerous  daily  papers, 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  out  to  Toledo;  I  had  given  up  resisting 
it.  I  spent  much  time  in  the  Hospital  of  Santa  Cruz  right  under  the 
walls  of  the  Alcazar.  It  is  not  a  hospital  but  av  museum  filled  with 
paintings,  old  armor,  giant  stone  sarcophagi  with  ancient  Hebrew 
characters  still  legible,  Arab  art.  Tall  Assault  Guards  in  blue  were 
lying  about  the  big  patio. 

Outside  the  heavy  gate  of  Santa  Cruz  a  gray-haired  artillery  ser- 
geant had  placed  a  three-inch  cannon.  He  promised  to  make  head- 
way against  the  Alcazar  by  piercing  its  walls  with  a  ceaseless  flow 


HOLY  WAR  363 

of  shells.  The  granite  walls  were  only  280  yards  away.  Young  mili- 
tiamen brought  him  the  shells,  and  the  air  throbbed  with  the  fre- 
quent explosions  and  the  following  crashes  against  the  granite.  A 
crowd  of  soldiers  watched.  Suddenly  they  opened  a  pathway. 
Largo  Caballero,  Prime  Minister  of  Spain,  had  arrived.  He  stood 
and  observed  the  action  of  the  gun.  Apparently  the  government  was 
beginning  to  feel  all  the  seriousness  of  the  Alcazar  situation.  Cabal- 
lero looked  weary;  he  was  sixty-nine. 

He  walked  back  to  his  car.  Assault  Guards  and  other  soldiers  fol- 
lowed him.  He  did  not  acknowledge  their  presence  with  a  smile  or 
a  raised  fist.  They  had  expected  him  to  say  a  few  words.  He  merely 
sat  down  in  the  back  of  the  automobile  and  sped  away.  Everybody 
was  disappointed.  The  atmosphere  was  bad  enough  without  that. 

That  evening  I  wrote  in  my  diary,  "If  this  continues  Franco  will 
soon  win,  which  means  Fascism  in  Europe  will  win,  which  means 
France,  Russia,  and  England  will  lose.  Spain  is  really  the  rehearsal  for 
the  next  big  international  conflict.  The  victor  in  this  preliminary 
battle  will  have  gained  an  advantage  in  the  vaster  struggle  to  follow." 

The  next  morning  I  revisited  the  airfield  of  Malraux's  squadron. 
A  giant  German  Junkers  bomber  rested  on  the  ground.  It  had  flown 
from  Germany  with  other  machines  but  lost  its  way  and  landed  at 
Madrid  with  a  crew  of  four.  It  had  three  motors.  I  climbed  into  it, 
moved  some  levers,  touched  the  bomb  racks. 

"Why  don't  you  use  it?"  I  asked  the  commandant  of  the  airdrome. 

"We  obey  orders,"  he  replied. 

I  talked  to  Foreign  Minister  Julio  Alvarez  del  Vayo  about  the 
Junkers.  He  looked  sad.  "The  French  Embassy,"  he  said  to  help 
me  understand.  It  was  still  difficult  to  understand.  Out  of  considera- 
tion for  France,  the  Spanish  Republic  did  not  use  a  German  ma- 
chine. The  machine  had  flown  over  France  from  Germany.  It  was 
concrete  proof  that  Germany  was  violating-  ''Non-Intervention."  Yet 
the  French  Foreign  Office  had  seen  fit  to  warn  Madrid  not  to  com- 
plicate French  relations  with  Germany  by  including  the  Junkers  in 
its  own  air  force. 

I  also  asked  del  Vayo  about  Spanish  Morocco.  Franco  held  that 
colony  and  the  Loyalists  had  no  access  to  it.  But  they  could  pro- 
claim its  independence.  That  would  make  trouble  for  Franco  among 
the  Moors.  However,  the  French  government  objected  to  that,  too. 
They  feared  repercussions  among  the  Moors  in  French  Morocco. 
Besides  it  would  be  in  violation  of  the  Algeciras  Convention  of  1906. 


364      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Del  Vayo  and  at  least  several  other  members  of  the  Cabinet  were 
staunch  anti-imperialists  and  would  have  brushed  aside  this  brittle 
legality  but  President  Azafia  insisted  on  it.  Moreover,  the  Loyalists 
hesitated  to  offend  France.  They  still  hoped  a  change  of  French  pol- 
icy would  enable  them  to  get  French  help. 

Several  weeks  later,  the  Nazis  bombed  the  Madrid  airfield  and 
smashed  their  own  Junkers. 

I  went  for  an  interview  with  Finance  Minister  Juan  Negrin.  His 
duty  now  included  the  removal  from  circulation  of  all  five-peseta 
silver  duros,  counterfeit  and  genuine.  I  indulged,  as  I  often  have 
with  statesmen,  in  unsolicited  criticism  and  advice-giving.  I  pointed 
out  the  disorganization  in  Madrid  and  at  the  front.  No  political  lead- 
ership. No  real  military  leadership  at  Toledo.  No  political  propa- 
ganda among  the  troops  at  Toledo.  A  flabby  Madrid  press  still  using 
diplomatic  language  to  describe  a  life-and-death  struggle.  The  lies 
of  the  official  communiques;  no  communiqu6  admitted  a  defeat. 
"Soon,  by  adding  up  all  the  Loyalist  victories  announced  in  the  war 
bulletins,"  I  suggested,  "Franco  will  be  at  the  gates  of  Madrid."  Ne- 
grin pleaded  extenuating  circumstances,  but  in  1939  when  the  war 
was  over  he  recalled  that  conversation  in  1936,  and  said  to  me,  "I 
knew  you  were  right.  But  I  was  a  member  of  the  government,  I 
couldn't  admit  it  to  you."  I  felt  at  the  time  that  he  agreed  with  me. 
He  was  too  intelligent  not  to  know  the  truth. 

I  asked  him  how  much  money  he  had.  Negrin  said  he  would  tell 
me  because  I  was  a  friend  but  if  I  published  it  or  otherwise  let  it 
be  known,  the  Republic  would  suffer.  He  went  to  his  desk,  un- 
locked a  little  drawer,  and  took  out  a  card  covered  with  figures  which 
he  had  written  in  ink.  He  said,  "This  is  what  we  have,  but  when 
we  mobilize  all  our  resources,  we  will  have  more."  They  were  tak- 
ing over  the  assets  of  banks  owned  by  Franco  sympathizers  and 
counting  the  jewels  and  stocks  and  bonds  left  behind  by  fleeing 
rebels.  Not  including  these,  Negrin  said,  "We  have  2,446,000,000 
pesetas  in  gold,  and  25,000,000  pesetas  in  foreign  currency." 

"And  silver?"  I  asked. 

"And  656,000,000  pesetas  in  silver,"  he  replied.  The  Spanish  gov- 
ernment's total  assets  in  September,  1936,  thus  amounted  to  approxi- 
mately 600,000,000  gold  dollars  or  almost  one  billion  paper  dollars. 

"Everything  has  been  moved  from  Madrid,"  he  volunteered. 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  will  n6t  fight  for  Madrid?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "but  we  can  take  no  chances."  The  gold  was 


HOLY  WAR  365 

moved  to  the  naval  base  at  Cartagena.  Later  it  was  shipped  to  Soviet 
Russia.  It  was  used  to  pay  the  Bolsheviks  for  arms.  It  was  also  used 
to  pay  for  Loyalist  purchases  in  all  countries.  Soviet  banks  in  Lon- 
don and  Paris  were  the  channels  through  which  the  Spanish  Re- 
public met  many  of  its  bills  abroad.  When  the  war  came  to  a  close 
in  1939,  the  Loyalists  owed  the  Soviet  government  $120,000,000, 
which  was  never  paid.  Of  this  debt,  $20,000,000,  approximately,  rep- 
resented Loyalist  imports  of  food  and  raw  materials  from  Russia, 
and  $100,000,000  imports  of  arms. 

Negrin  said,  "We  must  be  confident.  We  will  win."  That  was 
Negrin's  will  power  acting  upon  the  national  trait  of  optimism.  If 
nine  things  go  wrong  and  the  tenth  is  right,  the  Spaniard  usually 
concentrates  on  the  tenth,  wears  a  smile  in  his  heart,  and  ignores  the 
nine.  If  there  is  a  speck  of  blue  in  the  sky,  he  says  the  weather  is 
fine.  Negrin  had  will  power  and  optimism.  He  also  had  faith  in 
victory.  Without  faith  there  is  no  fight.  The  doubter  is  not  a  fighter. 

That  day  the  militiamen  at  Toledo  entered  the  Alcazar  walls  and 
occupied  a  whole  terrace.  I  went  to  see  it  the  next  day.  It  was  a 
terrace  on  which  the  stables  were  located. 

By  this  time,  many  of  the  soldiers  recognized  me  as  a  foreign  cor- 
respondent and  asked  to  be  photographed.  Every  day  the  Madrid 
newspapers  printed  photographs  of  individuals  at  the  front.  As  soon 
as  the  soldiers  had  seized  the  terrace  they  removed  the  crosses  from 
sixty  fresh  graves  of  rebels  killed  by  the  bombardment.  This  was 
senseless.  It  indicated  the  extent  of  the  resentment  which  these  born 
Catholics  felt  against  the  Catholic  church.  They  regarded  the  church 
as  Franco's  ally. 

I  picked  up  some  thin  mimeographed  sheets:  die  daily  news- 
paper printed  by  the  rebels  inside  the  Alcazar.  It  contained  radio^ 
grams  from  Franco,  from  Italian  and  -German  stations,  orders  of  the 
day  for  their  own  officers,  and  a  social  column.  Two  children  had 
been  born  during  the  siege,  and  three  marriages  had  taken  place.  The 
rebels  had  parleyed  with  their  besiegers  through  megaphones  and 
the  Loyalists  had  allowed  a  priest  to  go  inside  and  baptize  the  babies. 

Having  got  this  far,  General  Asensio  planned  a  further  attack 
on  the  Alcazar.  It  was  four  in  the  afternoon.  Shells  whistled  over- 
head. I  heard  them  burst  in  the  Alcazar.  At  the  gate  of  Santa  Cruz, 
a  sixty-ton  tank  was  preparing  to  go  into  action.  It  carried  a  light 
cannon  and  three  machine  guns.**.  It  stood  within  the  building  but 
near  enough  to  the  exit  for  the  rebels  to  see  it.  It  had  been  daubed 


366      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

with  camouflage  and  painted  with  names  and  slogans:  "Viva  Dimit- 
rov,"  "El  Partido  Comunista,"  "CNT,"  "Viva  la  Republics"  The 
Popular  Front  on  old  ironsides. 

I  asked  the  driver  when  he  was  going  into  action.  "At  five,"  he 
replied,  although  he  should  not  have  replied;  he  did  not  know  me. 
The  handsome  blue-uniformed  Assault  Guards  were  lining  up,  and 
their  officers  had  put  in  one  of  their  rare  appearances.  I  approached 
a  soldier  and  opened  his  haversack  to  see  whether  he  was  taking 
any  food  along.  No  food.  They  had  lunched  at  one.  It  was  now 
five.  If  they  stormed  new  positions  they  might  have  to  stay  and  hold 
them.  I  mentioned  this  to  one  of  the  officers.  He  said  they  would  be 
relieved.  But  maybe  the  fight  would  be  too  hot  to  permit  relief. 

At  five  o'clock  the  artillery  barrage  had  ceased  by  previous  agree- 
ment so  that  the  tank  and  the  men  could  move  into  the  Alcazar.  Still 
the  tank  did  not  move.  I  decided  to  participate  in  this  attack.  I 
wanted  to  see  how  it  felt.  I  asked  nobody's  permission.  It  was  that 
kind  of  war. 

I  walked  out  of  Santa  Cruz  and  hid  between  two  ruined  walls 
not  far  from  the  Alcazar  wall.  Some  young  Communist  troops, 
"Pasionarias,"  had  also  taken  temporary  shelter  here.  They  were 
in  fine  mood,  joked,  laughed,  and  boxed  with  one  another.  After  a 
while,  they  moved  up  into  the  Alcazar  enclosure.  I  waited  for  the 
tank.  Finally  at  5:40  P.M.,  the  tank  lumbered  out  of  Santa  Cruz. 
In  the  meantime,  of  course,  the  Alcazarites,  driven  from  their  posts 
by  the  artillery  barrage,  could  have  returned  to  them. 

The  tank  was  now  about  one  hundred  yards  away  from  me. 
These  one  hundred  yards  were  under  the  fire  of  Alcazar  guns.  I 
was  in  tennis  shoes.  I  jumped  out  of  my  cover,  bounded  quickly, 
half-bent,  over  the  debris,  and  overtook  the  tank.  This  dash  was 
for  me  the  best  part  of  the  day,  and  I  understood  then  how  soldiers 
go  over  the  top  with  zest  and  animal  passion.  There  is  something 
exhilarating  in  the  combination  of  danger  and  muscular  exertion. 

There  was  a  ledge  sticking  out  from  the  back  of  the  tank.  I  sat 
down  on  it.  So  did  an  Assault  Guard.  The  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  whip  out  his  revolver  and  fire  into  the  air.  I  felt  die  same  way 
only  I  had  no  revolver.  The  tank  climbed  and  moaned  and  then 
stopped.  I  heard  the  mechanics  inside  using  a  wrench  and  swear- 
ing. Then  it  creaked  and  moved  again.  We  were  going  up  and  around 
the  terraces  which  led  to  the  gardens  around  the  Alcazar  building. 
The  tank  had  to  negotiate  some  hairpin  bends  and  at  such  times 


HOLY  WAR  367 

the  back  of  the  tank  was  exposed  to  fire  from  the  Alcazar.  The  As- 
sault Guard  and  I  would  then  dismount  and  walk  by  the  side  of 
the  tank.  Occasionally  it  would  slip  and  threaten  to  go  down  to 
the  terrace  below.  We  pushed  ourselves  away  and  leapt  for  safety. 

The  tank  had  now  reached  the  terrace  where  the  Pasionarias  were 
stationed.  They  crouched  behind  a  wall  five-feet  high  which  rose 
from  one  terrace  to  another.  I  joined  them.  The  tank  continued  up- 
ward. Above,  I  could  see  Assault  Guards  holding  on  to  the  upright 
iron  railings  of  a  fence  with  one  hand  and  hurling  long  aluminum- 
colored  grenades  with  another. 

A  soldier  came  running  down  the  road.  Blood  streamed  behind 
his  ear.  Soon  another  came,  his  trouser  leg  reddening  as  he  ran.  On 
the  terrace  above  us  something  hit  the  ground  with  a  dull  thud.  A 
geyser  of  white  smoke  sprang  up.  Four  men  were  wounded.  They 
lifted  themselves  up  and  began  hobbling  downhill.  Others,  unhurt, 
wished  to  accompany  them.  Officers  drew  their  revolvers,  moved 
quickly  from  group  to  group  and  threatened  to  shoot  anyone  who 
ran  away. 

A  wounded  man  on  his  way  down  stopped  in  front  of  me.  Blood 
flowed  from  under  his  cap  and  made  thin  zigzag  trickles  down  his 
face.  His  eyes  looked  wild.  "Arriba,  arriba"  he  yelled  hoarsely. 
"Up,  up." 

Two  men  skipped  downward  holding  the  arms  of  a  third  who  had 
apparently  become  hysterical.  Meanwhile,  the  hand-grenade  bom- 
bardment above  continued. 

The  officers  succeeded  in  stopping  the  panic.  They  did  it  by 
threats  and  also  by  their  own  calm.  The  officer  nearest  me  stepped 
away  from  the  terrace  wall  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  lit  a  ciga- 
rette, puffed,  and  smiled.  I  walked  over  to  him  to  ask  what  was 
happening.  No  soldier  or  untrained  individual  has  any  idea  of  the 
character  of  military  action  in  which  he  is  engaged.  Before  I  could 
say  a  word  to  him  something  fell  and  pounded  the  road.  Black  smoke 
enveloped  the  men  with  whom  I  had  been  standing  and  when  it 
cleared  away  five  were  stretched  on  the  ground.  I  jumped  down  to 
the  terrace  below. 

A  second  later,  I  thought  to  myself,  "This  won't  do,"  and  I 
climbed  back  to  my  terrace.  A  wounded  man  lay  at  my  feet.  Two 
soldiers  and  I  lifted  him  up  and  started  carrying  him  towards  Santa 
Cruz.  I  had  my  arm  around  his  waist.  My  right  hand  felt  something 
warm,  wet,  and  sticky.  We  were  slipping  in  the  sandy  gravel  of 


368      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

the  road  which  the  tank  had  plowed  up.  The  wounded  soldier  asked 
us  to  open  his  belt.  His  gray  mono  showed  a  patch  of  blood  over 
the  heart.  He  was  also  bleeding  at  the  knee.  He  groaned,  opened  his 
mouth,  and  said  nothing.  The  three  of  us  looked  at  one  another 
and  accelerated  our  pace.  A  soldier  sat  in  our  path  calling  for  help. 
He  was  one  of  the  wounded  who  had  tried  to  get  down  by  himself. 
Now  he  could  go  no  further.  One  of  the  two  men  helping  me  left 
and  went  over  to  him.  A  stretcher-bearer  was  rushing  up  towards 
us  with  a  stretcher.  We  deposited  our  wounded  friend  on  it  and 
ran  with  it  into  Santa  Cruz.  It  was  dark.  We  ran  through  the  open 
patio  into  a  big  inside  room,  the  first-aid  station.  Noise.  Darkness. 
Confusion.  One  electric  light  burned  dimly.  We  set  down  the 
stretcher  and  looked  for  a  doctor.  Everyone  was  shouting,  "Med- 
ico, medico,"  while  the  three  young  medicos  moved  from  one 
wounded  man  to  the  other.  I  grabbed  the  arm  of  one  and  brought 
him  over  to  our  man.  We  lifted  the  man  on  the  operating  table.  His 
blood-drenched  shirt  was  cut  open.  He  had  a  superficial  wound 
just  over  the  heart  which  the  doctor  painted  with  iodine.  Then  the 
doctor  opened  the  soldier's  trouser  leg.  Part  of  his  knee  cap  had 
been  shot  away.  He  painted  that  with  iodine.  The  burn  apparently 
woke  the  patient  and  he  asked  feebly  for  water.  There  was  none  at 
hand. 

We  removed  our  man  from  the  operating  table.  Orderlies  were 
carrying  men  to  ambulances. 

Somebody  tugged  at  my  sleeve.  I  turned  and  saw  a  wounded  sol- 
der. Blood  was  flowing  from  his  mouth.  He  sat  on  a  chair  and 
swayed  and  even  in  the  bad  light  I  could  see  how  pale  he  was.  I 
held  both  sides  of  his  head.  In  a  moment,  the  doctor  returned  to 
him  with  gauze  and  cotton  and  dressed  a  gash  in  the  man's  fore- 
head just  where  the  hair  begins. 

I  could  hear  the  tank  grinding  in  the  patio.  The  patio  and  rooms 
of  Santa  Cruz  were  now  filled  with  men.  All  the  soldiers  in  the  as- 
saulting party  had  come  back.  They  stood  in  groups  exclaiming, 
waving  their  hands,  explaining  why  everything  had  gone  wrong. 
Some  sat  in  corners,  portraits  of  desolation. 

Nineteen  men  had  been  wounded  in  the  attack.  All  but  three  were 
lightly  wounded.  The  enemy,  with  uncanny  accuracy,  had  fired 
four  shells  from  a  mortar.  They  had  routed  a  battalion.  The  hand 
grenades,  the  artillery  barrage,  and  the  action  of  the  tank  were 
wasted. 


HOLY  WAR  369 

As  our  car  entered  Madrid  that  evening,  buses  filled  with  soldiers 
passed  us  en  route  to  the  front.  Torrijos,  fifty-four  miles  from  Ma- 
drid, had  been  taken  by  Franco  that  day.  He  could  now  march 
on  Toledo.  Would  the  wounded  be  evacuated  in  time?  (When 
the  Moors  took  Toledo  they  killed  several  hundred  wounded  Loy- 
alists by  throwing  grenades  into  hospital  beds.) 

Before  coming  to  Spain  I  had  read  in  the  Soviet  press,  and,  too, 
in  the  press  of  Europe  and  America,  about  the  heroism  of  Loyalist 
soldiers  at  the  front.  They  had  shown  great  bravery,  it  was  reported, 
in  the  Guadarrama  Mountains,  at  Talavera,  and  elsewhere.  I  looked 
for  this  heroism  at  Toledo  and  other  fronts,  but  I  never  found  it. 
I  asked  several  correspondents  whether  they  had  seen  any  heroism. 
They  hadn't.  I  asked  Spaniards.  They  said  they  hadn't  at  the  front, 
but  that  the  Madrid  workers  had  been  brave  in  attacking  the  Mon- 
tana barracks  in  the  first  days  of  the  insurrection.  I  asked  Mikhail 
Koltzov,  the  correspondent  of  Pravda.  His  impression  was  the  same 
as  mine.  I  asked  Malraux.  He  said,  "Yes,  a  great  deal.  In  the  air." 
He  recounted  several  instances  of  Loyalist  pilots  fighting  against  odds 
or  volunteering  for  hazardous  assignments. 

A  large  body  of  soldiers  has  courage  only  if  it  is  disciplined,  well- 
organized,  and  operating  under  trustworthy  officers.  An  aviator  can 
be  daring  because  once  in  the  air  he  is  king  and  depends  on  no  one 
but  himself.  Then  his  nerves,  his  mental  reactions,  his  physical  state, 
his  philosophy  of  life  add  up  to  courage  or  cowardice.  A  soldier 
in  the  ranks  may  be  a  personal  hero,  yet  if  there  is  chaos  all  around 
him,  if  his  equipment  is  bad,  if  his  officers  have  not  won  the  con- 
fidence of  the  men,  he  will  run  with  the  rest  of  them.  There  are 
very  few  men  who  can  stand  when  their  comrades  run. 

Toledo  fell  to  Franco  on  September  27,  and  the  rebels  came  out 
of  the  Alcazar  into  the  blinding  light.  Some  of  the  women  had  gone 
mad. 

The  capture  of  Toledo  was  inevitable.  The  government  had  neither 
the  arms  nor  die  trained  men  with  which  to  hold  it.  Now  Madrid 
would  soon  be  menaced.  I  drove  out  to  see  the  environs.  It  was  nat- 
ural to  expect  that  Franco  would  come  up  from  the  south,  take 
Getafe,  where  there  was  an  airfield,  and  then  attack  the  capital. 
About  a  mile  east  of  Getafe  and  ten  miles  from  Madrid  a  rounded 
hill  rose  up  from  the  plateau.  I  climbed  up  to  look  about.  This  was 
Cerro  de  los  Angeles,  reputed  to  be  the  geographical  center  of  Spain. 


370      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

On  it  had  stood  a  huge  monument  to  the  Heart  of  Jesus.  Rude 
hands  tore  it  down  after  the  war  began.  I  could  see  to  Madrid  and 
far  to  the  east,  west,  and  south.  The  next  day  I  persuaded  Marcel 
Rosenberg  to  go  out  to  the  same  spot  with  me.  I  said  I  thought  it 
ought  to  be  fortified  for  the  defense  of  Madrid.  He  took  a  military 
specialist  along. 

I  talked  to  Rosenberg  every  day  about  the  danger  to  Madrid,  and 
the  danger  to  the  whole  cause  if  Madrid  went  the  way  of  Toledo. 
He  said,  "Write  me  a  memo.  I'll  send  it  to  Moscow."  I  drafted  it 
and  gave  it  to  him  on  September  30.  He  telegraphed  it.  I  also  talked 
with  Koltzov,  of  Fravda  who  had  influence  in  die  Kremlin.  He  was 
on  friendly  terms  with  Stalin  and  War  Commissar  Voroshilov.  His 
editor,  Mekhlis,  also  carried  much  weight.  I  told  him  the  Loyalists 
were  through  unless  quick  help  came  from  abroad.  He  knew  that 
himself.  General  Asensio,  now  in  the  Madrid  Staff,  had  told  me  that 
Franco  had  twelve  thousand  soldiers  on  the  Toledo  front.  French 
pilots  who  had  flown  over  the  area  estimated  the  number  at  ten 
thousand.  With  these  he  could  not  take  Madrid,  if  the  government 
had  airplanes  and  a  few  more  arms.  Madrid  could  be  decisive  and 
Madrid  could  be  held.  Koltzov  asked  me  to  write  a  letter  which  he 
would  wire  to  Pravda.  I  gave  it  to  him  on  October  4.  He  never  sent 
it.  I  never  discussed  it  with  him,  but  I  guessed  the  reason.  On  Octo- 
ber 7,  Ivan  Maisky,  the  Soviet  Ambassador  to  England,  informed 
the  International  Non-intervention  Committee  in  London  that  the 
Non-intervention  agreement  had  been  rendered  virtually  void  by 
foreign  aid  to  Franco.  The  Soviets  could  not  agree  "to  turn  the  agree- 
ment into  a  screen  shielding  the  military  aid  given  to  the  rebels."  If 
these  violations  were  not  "immediately  stopped,"  Moscow  would 
consider  itself  free  from  the  agreement's  obligations,  Maisky  said. 

The  Soviet  government's  decision  to  dispatch  arms  and  other  mil- 
itary assistance  was  accordingly  taken  in  die  first  week  of  October, 
1936.  Rosenberg  had  been  urging  it  all  along. 

Meanwhile,  conditions  at  the  front  and  in  Madrid  went  from  bad 
to  worse.  The  spirit  was  bad.  The  soldiers  played  at  war  and  lay 
around  discussing  politics  but  not  digging  trenches.  In  the  city, 
the  antagonism  between  the  Communists  and  the  Anarchists  was 
growing.  The  Communists  blamed  the  FAI-Federation  of  Iberian 
Anarchists-for  the  loss  of  Toledo,  and  called  them  "Fai-scists." 

I  wanted  to  meet  an  Anarchist  leader.  Old  hands  advised  me  to 
see  Horacio  Prieto— no  relation  of  Air  Minister  Indalecio  Prieto.  I 


HOLY  WAR  371 

went  to  CNT  headquarters  with  Horsfall  Carter,  an  English  anti- 
Fascist  who  knew  Spain  well.  We  asked  to  see  a  spokesman.  One 
appeared,  took  us  to  a  cafe,  and  answered  questions.  I  said  I  would 
appreciate  an  interview  with  a  national  leader.  He  took  us  to  the 
national  office  of  the  CNT.  He  introduced  us  to  a  man.  I  asked  his 
name,  but  he  said,  "That  is  not  important."  We  discussed  the  situa- 
tion for  forty-five  minutes.  I  again  asked  his  name.  I  promised  not 
to  publish  it. 

"Ah,"  he  declaimed,  "I  am  one  of  the  nameless  fighters  of  the  rev- 
olution." 

"Still,"  I  insisted,  "it  can  do  no  harm  to  tell  us  your  name." 
"Horacio  Prieto,"  he  said.  He  was  romantic  but  sincere,  and  all 
the  CNT  fellows  in  and  around  both  offices  looked  like  working- 
men.  They  wore  black-red  bandanna  handkerchiefs  around  their 
necks  and  carried  black-red  flags  in  their  rifle  muzzles.  At  Toledo, 
their  political  leaders  held  big  revolvers  at  the  ready  even  when  they 
walked  through  streets  far  from  the  Alcazar.  They  did  not  trust 
the  Communists  nor  did  they  trust  their  own  men.  Horacio  Prieto 
admitted  that  Fascists  might  have  entered  their  ranks  for  protection 
or  for  mischief.  The  Communists  charged  that  the  Anarchists  were 
mercurial  and  independable.  In  civilian  times,  Communists  charged, 
employers  bribed  Anarchist  leaders  to  provoke  strikes  prematurely 
so  that  the  strikes  could  be  defeated.  The  Anarchists,  on  the  other 
hand,  said  the  Communists  were  reactionary.  The  Communists  de- 
clared that  at  the  front  the  Anarchists  were  flamboyant,  theatrical, 
and  cowardly.  All  these  accusations,  as  far  as  I  could  learn,  were 
partly  true  and  partly  untrue.  But  the  important  thing  was  that  they 
revealed  a  serious  split  in  the  Loyalist  camp.  I  frequently  talked  with 
Rosenberg  about  these  unfortunate  relations  between  Communists 
and  Anarchists.  The  Anarchists  were  too  important  and  numerous 
to  be  brushed  aside  or  suppressed.  Besides,  I  told  Rosenberg,  my 
impression  was  that  they  are  a  truly  working-class  party  and  that 
somehow  or  other— I  knew  it  would  be  hard— a  way  could  be  found 
of  collaborating  with  them.  Rosenberg  agreed.  One  day  he  said  to 
me,  "Why  don't  you  go  tot  Barcelona  and  see  Emma  Goldman  about 
this?"  The  veteran  American  Anarchist  had  come  to  Spain  on  her 
first  of  two  visits.  I  told  Rosenberg  I  was  ready  to  do  anything  that 
would  help.  He  made  inquiries,  however,  and  ascertained  that  Emma 
Goldman  had  been  taken  ill  and  left  Spain.  I  doubt  whether  I  could 
have  achieved  much,  for  the  trouble  ran  very  deep. 


372      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Heads  of  states  are  often  insufficiently  informed.  Those  around 
them  may  keep  the  worst  news  from  them  until  it  is  too  late.  I 
thought  I  might  be  of  service  to  Spain  by  writing  a  letter  to  Prime 
Minister  Caballero  describing  the  critical  situation  as  I  saw  it.  I  dis- 
cussed the  idea  with  del  Vayo  who  welcomed  it.  On  October  n,  I 
had  the  rough  draft  ready  in  English  and  showed  it  to  del  Vayo. 
He  removed  his  glasses,  put  his  nose  into  the  pages,  and  said,  "This 
is  excellent.  But  take  out  the  reference  to  his  age.  It  will  pain  him." 
People  had  been  saying  that  Caballero  was  too  old  to  run  a  war.  I 
accompanied  del  Vayo  to  the  War  Ministry  and  then  he  ordered  his 
driver  to  take  me  to  the  Palace  Hotel.  I  met  Rosenberg  mounting 
the  stairs  with  General  Goriev,  his  military  attach^.  He  was  in  good 
mood. 

**You  look  like  a  cross  between  a  CNT  and  the  Apocalypse,"  he 
said  to  me.  "Sometimes,"  he  added,  "you  also  remind  me  of  a  poem 
of  Alexander  Blok."  I  didn't  ask  him  why,  or  what  poem.  I  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  an  inspiration  that  had  come  to  me  to  write 
a  letter  to  Caballero  giving  him  some  of  my  impressions.  He  said, 
'Tine  idea." 

In  the  morning,  two  Spanish  friends  worked  on  my  letter  to  Ca- 
ballero and  rendered  it  into  literary  Castilian  so  that  the  Prime  Min- 
ister would  not  have  to  go  to  the  trouble  of  making  a  translation. 
The  amended  and  completed  English  original  reads  as  follows: 

Madrid.  Hotel  Capitol. 

_,       0         ^  October  12,  1036. 

DEAR  SENOR  CABALLERO, 

I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  you  several  times  and  therefore 
I  hope  you  remember  me.  You  probably  know  my  devotion  to  the  Soviet 
Union  and  to  the  interests  of  anti-Fascist  Spain.  Because  I  am  your  friend 
I  assume  the  liberty  of  writing  to  you  frankly  and  freely.  I  am  profoundly 
disturbed  by  the  present  state  of  affairs  here.  Many  measures  which  could 
easily  be  taken,  which  must  be  taken,  are  not  being  taken.  I  have  been  to 
the  front  often  and  I  have  inspected  the  environs  of  Madrid.  Objectively, 
the  situation  is  far  from  hopeless.  There  is  no  reason  why,  with  your  vast 
resources  of  men  and  enthusiasm,  you  should  not  hold  the  enemy  at  least 
at  the  present  line.  But  what  I  missed  most  in  my  three  weeks  here  is  the 
energy  and  determination  which  should  characterize  a  revolution.  I  have 
studied  the  Russian  Revolution  in  great  detail.  When  Petrograd  was 
threatened  in  1919  every  citizen  was  organized.  Every  man  knew  where 
he  would  fight,  what  was  expected  of  him.  Nor  did  they  wait  for  the 


HOLY  WAR  373 

Whites  to  come  to  them.  Feverish  political  work  accompanied  tireless 
building  of  defenses,  mobilizing  of  new  men,  training  of  old  soldiers,  and 
preparation  of  officers5  cadres.  Nothing  was  left  undone.  The  city  worked 
like  a  powerful  motor.  Again,  when  General  Denikin  moved  towards 
Moscow  in  1919,  shock  Communist  regiments  were  sent  to  the  front.  The 
Bolshevik  leaders  left  their  offices  and  stayed  with  the  troops.  Nobody- 
rested;  everybody's  first  thought  was  of  success  in  the  field. 

I  tell  you  honestly  I  miss  this  spirit  here.  Of  course,  I  know  your  diffi- 
culties and  handicaps.  You  lack  many  necessary  supplies.  But  you  must 
do  more  than  you  have  done.  History  will  judge  as  criminals  the  men 
who  will  allow  the  enemy  to  take  Madrid,  or  to  postpone  the  victory  of 
the  revolution  by  allowing  him  to  come  too  near  Madrid  without  a 
titanic  effort  to  stop  him.  I  must  say:  if  men  whom  I  know  to  be  sincere 
and  faithful  revolutionaries  were  not  in  this  government  I  would  be  in- 
clined to  believe  that  traitors  and  saboteurs  are  in  charge  of  defending 
this  city  and  of  holding  the  front  intact.  That  is  the  impression  an  objec- 
tive observer  must  get. 

I  want  to  ask  you,  for  instance,  this  question:  there  are  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  building  workers  in  Madrid.  You  have  several  cement  and  brick 
factories  here.  Why  are  you  not  building  concrete  trenches  and  dugouts? 
Why  do  you  not  stop  all  civilian  construction  work  in  Madrid  and  send 
the  workmgmen  out  to  erect  an  iron  "Hindenburg  line"  about  thirty 
kilometers  from  Madrid  which  the  enemy  could  not  pass?  In  addition, 
the  heights  around  the  city  should  be  fortified.  All  this  could  be  accom- 
plished in  a  relatively  short  period.  It  would  improve  the  morale  of  the 
soldiers  if  they  saw  that  you  were  doing  things  for  them,  and  it  would 
give  them  places  in  which  to  hide  from  air  attacks. 

These  things  are  not  difficult  to  do  and  they  need  to  be  done.  Barbed- 
wire  entanglements  charged  with  electricity,  the  mining  of  bridges  and 
roads,  the  creation  of  underground  artillery  nests— all  these  and  many 
other  measures  can  be  undertaken.  If  Madrid  is  surrendered  like  Toledo, 
world  socialism  will  condemn  you  and  your  colleagues.  After  that  neither 
your  best  friends  and  followers  nor  the  Spanish  people  will  have  any 
confidence  in  you.  The  leadership  after  that  will  pass  to  other  hands, 
perhaps  less  able  and  less  responsible. 

This  is  not  the  time  to  be  diplomatic— die  moment  is  too  grave.  Many 
people  in  Madrid  have  already  lost  confidence  in  you.  They  criticize  your 
policies  and  activities.  One  hears  too  all  sorts  of  suspicions  about  Asensio. 
"Is  he  loyal?",  it  is  asked.  These  sentiments  reflect  a  very  unhealthy  sit- 
uation. Madrid  is  not  being  talked  to  enough.  The  people  have  no  con- 
tact with  their  government.  I  think  your  slogan  should  be:  Let  Madrid 
defend  Madrid,  Let  Madrid  organize  itself  into  a  committee  of  three 
hundred  or  four  hundred  and  take  the  matter  into  its  own  hands.  It  will 


374      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

not  discuss;  it  will  act.  Then  initiative  will  be  stimulated  and  enthusiasm 
aroused.  Then  you  will  get  results. 

I  want  to  ask  another  question.  The  enemy  has  not  many  men.  His 
front  is  thin.  His  lines  of  communication  are  long.  In  such  circumstances, 
partizan  fighting  behind  the  lines  could  do  great  damage.  In  the  Russian 
civil  war  there  was  as  much  fighting  in  the  rear  as  on  the  fronts.  Small 
partizan  bands,  consisting  of  several  hundred  men  or  less,  armed  with 
rifles,  hand  grenades,  a  few  machine  guns,  etc.  would  operate  behind  the 
lines,  blow  up  ammunition  dumps  and  bridges,  destroy  small  hostile  de- 
tachments, stir  up  villages  to  revolt,  interfere  with  railway  and  road  traf- 
fic, and  generally  sow  chaos  and  confusion..  These  tactics  are  especially 
effective  at  night.  At  one  time,  several  large  mounted  partizan  units  sent 
out  by  Denikin  under  Generals  Skuro  and  Mamontov,  threatened  to  ruin 
the  entire  Bolshevik  front  in  the  Ukraine.  Guerrilla  fighting  is  natural  in 
civil  war,  and  it  would  be  a  powerful  weapon  in  your  hands.  I  know  some 
attempts  have  been  made  here.  But  this  should  be  launched  on  a  vast  scale, 
and  right  now  when  the  enemy  is  near. 

You  understand  why  I  write  this  way.  I  want  you  to  win.  I  would 
help  you  to  win.  I  think  it  is  possible  to  win.  But  I  think  also  that  the 
methods  of  the  past  may  result  in  the  defeat  of  the  revolution, 

Salud,  dear  Senor  Caballero, 

Louis  FISCHER. 

My  secretary  delivered  this  letter  to  Captain  Aguirre  at  1.15  P.M. 
He  took  it  in  to  Caballero  immediately,  came  out  after  ten  minutes 
with  a  long  face,  and  said  there  would  be  no  reply.  I  had  expected 
none.  I  had  expected  Caballero  to  be  angry,  perhaps  even  deeply 
resentful.  But  I  had  to  tell  him  what  I  knew  many  people  were 
thinking. 

At  4.15,  I  was  sitting  in  the  warm  sunlight  of  my  room  reading 
the  Oxford  History  of  Napoleon's  Peninsular  War  in  Spain  in 
1808-09.  The  telephone  rang.  Aguirre  calling.  "The  Prime  Minis- 
ter," he  said,  "wants  to  see  you  at  seven  o'clock.  Del  Vayo  will  in- 
terpret." 

Del  Vayo  was  waiting,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  admitted. 
Caballero,  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  suit,  was  bent  over  and  rummaging 
in  a  drawer.  He  straightened  out,  shook  hands  with  us,  and  sat  down 
at  the  head  of  a  long  polished  table.  Del  Vayo  took  a  chair  at  Cabal- 
lero's  right  and  I  sat  down  next  to  del  Vayo.  Caballero  had  my  letter 
in  his  jacket  pocket.  He  brought  it  out  and  started  reading  aloud. 
When  he  reached  'Tetrograd  was  threatened,"  he  said,  "The  advan- 
tage of  the  Bolsheviks  was  that  they  had  only  one  party.  We  have 


HOLY  WAR  375 

many."  He  mumbled  down  the  page  and  read  distinctly,  "You  lack 
many  supplies." 

"You  ask  why  we  have  not  built  trenches,"  he  said  with  a  pained 
expression  on  his  fine  face.  "Do  you  know  that  two  months  ago, 
more  than  two  months  ago,  we  sent  to  Barcelona  for  shovels  and 
haven't  received  them  yet?  You  suggest  barbed  wire  for  entrench- 
ments. Have  we  got  barbed  wire?  We  have  ordered  it  in  France. 
Inquire  of  your  French  friends  when  we  can  expect  to  receive  it." 
He  moved  his  head  in  a  gesture  which  meant,  "Don't  think  this  job 
is  so  easy." 

"But  that's  unbelievable,"  I  said.  "Spades  and  wire  are  not  muni- 
tions. If  you  can't  get  those  how  can  you  hope  to  buy  rifles  and 
other  weapons?" 

"Rifles,"  he  echoed.  "Rifles?  We  received  eighteen  thousand  from 
Mexico,  the  only  country  that  has  helped  us.  And  now  we  have 
whole  squads  fishing  them  out  of  the  Tagus  and  hunting  for  them 
in  the  fields  where  the  men  fleeing  from  Toledo  threw  them.  For 
guerrilla  warfare  one  needs  arms  and  trained  men.  We  have  neither." 

"Now  as  to  the  building  operations  in  Madrid,"  he  continued. 
"You  try  to  deal  with  our  trade  unions.  Their  representatives  were 
here  this  afternoon.  They  came  to  make  demands  on  me." 

"But,"  I  remonstrated,  "you  should  be  making  demands  on  them. 
Besides  you  are  the  leader  of  the  Spanish  trade-union  movement. 
Surely  they  will  listen  to  you  if  you  ask  them  to  construct  fortifica- 
tions instead  of  subways.  If  you  have  tools  and  materials  for  villas 
you  have  tools  and  materials  for  dugouts  and  trenches." 
•  "That  is  more  complicated  than  you  suppose,"  he  instructed  me. 
"If  the  Socialist  trade  unions  obey  the  government  the  anarcho-syn- 
dicalist trade  unions,  the  CNT,  will  conduct  propaganda  against 
the  socialists  and  try  to  attract  their  members.  This  is  Spain.  Our 
trade  unions  are  more  powerful  than  the  political  parties  and  it  is 
difficult  to  control  them." 

"Maybe  you  are  right,"  he  went  on,  scanning  my  letter.  "Perhaps 
'people  in  Madrid  have  already  lost  confidence'  in  me.  Let  them 
choose  somebody  else  in  my  place." 

Del  Vayo  kicked  me  under  the  table  and  after  translating  Cabal- 
lero's  words,  he  added  in  English,  "He  is  very  sad.  Cheer  him  up." 

"I  do  not  think  the  whole  country  has  lost  confidence  in  you,"  I 
remarked.  "On  the  contrary,  there  is  a  feeling  you  are  the  only  man 
for  the  job.  But  the  people  are  not  conscious  of  your  leadership. 


376      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Nobody  tells  them  what  is  happening.  They  have  a  feeling  that  the 
newspapers  and  official  communiques  lie  to  them.  You  have  not  made 
a  speech  to  the  nation  since  you  have  been  in  office." 

"No,"  he  agreed,  "I  haven't.  I  am  too  busy.  My  room  is  always 
full  of  people  who  want  to  see  me.  There  are  other  orators  and  bet- 
ter ones.  Let  del  Vayo  make  speeches." 

I  reminded  him  that  a  nation  at  war  needs  to  be  in  touch  with 
its  leader.  He  could  speak  on  the  radio  from  his  office.  It  would  not 
have  to  take  more  than  fifteen  minutes. 

He  shook  his  head. 

He  again  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  letter.  "I  have  faith  in  Asensio," 
he  declared.  "I  have  been  with  him  at  the  front.  When  bombs  fall  he 
stands  still." 

I  suggested  that  this  might  be  due  to  the  fact  that  Asensio  was  ai 
soldier  and  knew  how  few  casualties  result  from  bombs.  "Besides," 
I  added,  "I  do  not  say  that  Asensio  is  disloyal.  I  do  not  know  enough 
to  make  such  a  statement.  I  only  wrote  that  people  are  talking  about 
him  and  that  creates  an  unhealthy  situation  which  must  be  cleared 
up,  and  it  can  only  be  cleared  up  if  the  leader  of  the  nation  explains 
matters  and  takes  the  country  into  his  confidence." 

He  shook  his  head  again.  "There  is  already  too  much  talking  going 
on.  You  want  a  committee  of  three  hundred  for  Madrid.  They 
would  never  stop  discussing.  I  am  going  to  put  the  defense  of  Madrid 
into  the  hands  of  General  Miaja." 

I  said  that  Miaja  might  handle  the  military  side  of  the  defense, 
but  what  about  the  political  side?  "If  you  have  trouble  with  the  trade 
unions,  you,  an  experienced  trade-union  leader,  they  will  twist 
Miaja  around  their  little  finger." 

Caballero  replied  that  Mkja  would  have  expert  political  assistance. 
Throughout  the  interview  the  Prime  Minister  looked  downcast.  Now 
he  sat  up  very  straight,  folded  my  letter,  and  put  it  back  into  his 
pocket.  He  looked  at  me  and  measured  his  words,  "I  can  imagine 
that  we  look  pretty  bad  to  an  outsider.  We  are  slow  to  start.  We 
need  help.  We  have  no  experience  in  military  affairs  and  many  of 
our  ministers  have  no  experience  in  government.  We  have  made  mis- 
takes and  we  will  make  more  mistakes.  I  am  glad  you  have  spoken 
frankly  with  me.  I  am  glad  you  are  here.  Stay  with  us  and  see 
whether  we  improve.  If  you  have  more  criticism  write  me  again, 
or  come  see  me.  I  know  you  are  a  friend."  He  rose  and  shook  my 
hand. 


HOLY  WAR  377 

I  was  deeply  moved.  He  was  a  noble  person. 

When  I  walked  back  into  the  anteroom,  Captain  Aguirre  talked 
to  me  for  a  moment  and  asked  whether  I  was  comfortable  and  needed 
anything.  I  said  I  was  all  right  but  sometimes  I  had  trouble  getting 
a  car  to  go  to  the  front.  The  next  day,  Aguirre  sent  me  a  car  with 
a  chauffeur  and  an  armed  guard,  and  thereafter,  until  I  left  Spain,  I 
always  had  an  automobile  at  my  disposal.  It  soon  became  known, 
too,  that  I  had  written  the  letter  to  the  Prime  Minister  and  that  he 
had  discussed  it  with  me.  (There  are  few  secrets  in  Spain.)  I  think 
it  gave  me  a  unique  position  in  Spain  thereafter.  I  had,  so  to  speak, 
been  adopted  by  the  Loyalists  and  they  trusted  me. 

When  I  now  reread  my  letter  to  Largo  Caballero— after  a  lapse 
of  more  than  four  years,  and  what  years!— I  stop  at  the  words,  "vic- 
tory of  the  revolution,"  and  "defeat  of  the  revolution."  Six  months 
later  I  could  not  have  written  that,  for  the  Spanish  conflict  had  com- 
menced to  place  its  chief  emphasis  on  the  war.  Social  change  receded 
into  the  background;  it  became  a  by-product  rather  than  a  primary 
goal.  Chaos,  disorganization,  and  party  individualism  receded  into 
the  background.  At  the  same  time,  Soviet  military  assistance  com- 
menced to  arrive. 

It  was  obvious  from  what  Largo  Caballero  said  to  me,  and  also 
from  the  way  he  said  it,  that  on  October  12,  1936,  the  Spanish  Re- 
public was  lost.  If  the  Russians  had  not  brought  in  their  first  air- 
planes, tanks,  and  military  advisers  that  month  the  war  in  Spain 
would  have  ended  in  1936  with  a  Fascist  triumph,  and  then  perhaps 
Czechoslovakia  would  have  fallen  earlier  and  the  second  World  War 
would  have  started  earlier. 

.  There  are  those  who  would  affirm  that  social  radicalism  was  forced 
to  retreat  by  the  Russians  and  by  the  Spanish  Communists  whose 
prestige  and  power  in  Spain  rose  because  Russia  came  to  the  Repub- 
lic's rescue.  I  think  this  is  a  misconception.  What  happened  was  this: 
After  months  of  vacillation  and  impotence,  the  central  Loyalist  gov- 
ernment was  beginning  to  take  control  of  the  situation.  Soviet  mili- 
tary intervention  helped  Caballero  in  the  task  of  dominating  the 
parties  and  trade  unions.  Moreover,  radical  social  innovations  an- 
tagonized part  of  the  Loyalist  population.  The  merchant  class  was 
largely  anti-Franco,  but  it  would  not  have  remained  so  if  the  Loy- 
alists had  stopped  all  private  trade.  The  peasantry  also  had  good 
reason  to  be  anti-Franco,  for  the  landlords  were  pro-Franco.  But 


378      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

the  peasants  could  not  have  been  expected  to  support  the  Repub- 
lican government  if  it  had  seized  their  small  farms  and  formed  social- 
ist collectives.  The  peasants  in  Badajoz  and  Caceres  might  have  wel- 
comed collectives;  they  owned  little  land  and  slaved  on  the  big  es- 
tates. But  the  Loyalist-held  rural  districts  of  Catalonia,  Valencia,  and 
the  rest  of  the  Levant,  and  even  Castile  included  numerous  small 
farms,  and  while  there  was  room  for  collectives  here  too,  wholesale 
socialism  in  the  villages  would  have  destroyed  or  weakened  the 
peasantry's  inborn  love  of  the  Republic.  In  1917,  Lenin  won  the 
peasantry  by  dispossessing  the  landlords  and  inviting  the  peasants  to 
take  over,  divide,  and  use  the  estates.  Collectivization  was  not  intro- 
duced until  1929,  when  the  Soviet  government  had  tremendous 
strength,  and  even  then  there  were  enough  difficulties.  But  in  Spain, 
the  Anarchists  and  the  POUM  wanted  to  collectivize  in  the  fall  of 
1936  when  the  war  was  being  lost.  The  resultant  turmoil  would 
certainly  have  ruined  all  Loyalist  chances  of  further  resistance.  A 
poor,  unprepared,  badly  led  Spanish  Republic  could  not  simultane- 
ously fight  a  war  and  stage  a  revolution.  Social  change  was  inherent 
in  the  war.  Power  was  passing  to  different  classes.  Workers  and 
peasants  shared  the  government  with  the  small  bourgeoisie  and  intel- 
lectuals. But  the  power  had  to  be  used  with  wise  restraint,  for  it 
would  have  been  preposterous  to  introduce  an  anti-capitalist  econ- 
omy in  September,  1936,  and  be  defeated  on  the  battlefield  and  put 
in  prison  or  executed  by  Franco  in  November,  1936.  A  full-fledged 
revolution  would  have  alienated  the  capitalist  supporters  of  the  Re- 
public and  thus  spelled  the  doom  of  the  Republic. 

This  issue  remained  very  much  alive  throughout  the  Spanish  strug- 
gle, and  outside  Spain  it  continues  to  be  the  subject  of  theoretical 
debates  which  are  only  occasionally  interspersed  with  facts. 

From  several  directions,  Franco's  few  men  pressed  ever  closer  to 
Madrid.  The  city  commenced  to  feel  his  proximity.  There  was  a 
tenseness  in  the  air  and  a  sensation  of  grim  expectancy.  Correspond- 
ents said,  "Soon  we  will  be  able  to  go  to  the  front  by  trolley."  Air 
raids  started. 

Among  the  correspondents  was  a  tall,  blond  Englishman  named 
Hugh  Slater,  a  Communist  who  wrote  for  Imprekorr,  a  Communist 
news  agency.  He  had  a  car  of  his  own  and  wrote  a  great  deal.  One 
day  he  disappeared  without  bidding  farewell  to  anybody.  We  won- 
dered what  had  happened.  Then  William  Forrest  of  the  London 


HOLY  WAR  379 

Daily  Express  got  a  letter  from  Hugh  posted  in  Barcelona.  He  said 
he  wanted  to  return  to  Madrid  but  had  no  money  and  asked  Forrest 
to  send  him  funds.  But  very  shortly  thereafter  he  arrived  in  London 
where  he  frankly  admitted  that  he  was  scared  by  the  threatened 
closing  of  the  iron  ring  around  Madrid. 

Harry  Pollitt,  the  secretary  of  the  British  Communist  party,  talked 
to  Hugh  Slater  and  told  him  that  if  he  wished  to  remain  in  the 
party  he  would  have  to  return  to  Spain  and  prove  that  he  was  not 
a  coward.  Hugh  came  back  and  joined  the  International  Brigade. 
He  took  a  post  of  commander  of  an  anti-tank  unit.  At  Brunete  and 
in  other  battles  he  fought  gallantly,  and  he  was  officially  cited  for 
bravery. 

When  the  European  war  started  in  1939,  Slater  resigned  from 
the  Communist  party  and  became  assistant  to  Tom  Wintringham, 
the  commander  of  the  great  British  school  for  Home  Guards  on  an 
estate  outside  London.  Hugh  and  Wintringham  there  taught  hun- 
dreds of  Englishmen  the  experience  they  had  gained  in  Spain's  Inter- 
national Brigade. 

By  October  16,  correspondents  visiting  the  front  were  not  per- 
mitted to  go  beyond  a  point  on  the  Navalcarnero  road,  twenty-five 
miles  from  Madrid.  That  day  I  went  out  by  car  with  my  secretary, 
a  little  Jew  from  the  Argentine  named  Ajigel  Rosenblatt.  Pickets 
stopped  us  and  we  got  out.  A  flock  of  soldiers  on  the  road  and  on 
the  banks  overlooking  it  created  the  impression  of  disorderly  retreat. 
But  I  heard  the  calm  voice  of  an  officer  saying,  "Disperse.  Disperse. 
Lie  down  and  don't  move."  That  meant  bombers.  The  men  walked 
quietly  out  into  the  plowed  fields  and  sat  or  lay  down.  I  sat  down. 
Two  big  bombers,  black,  their  propellers  shining  in  the  sun,  were 
circling  over  Valmajado,  two  miles  away., Their  altitude,  I  guessed, 
was  two  thousand  feet.  They  were  not  afraid  to  come  down  low  be- 
cause they  knew  the  government  had  no  anti-aircraft  guns.  A  bomb 
dropped  from  a  plane.  One  heard  a  terrific  crash  and  then  a  mountain 
of  smoke  rose  from  the  earth.  Having  dropped  one  missile  the  air- 
plane flew  away,  described  a  circle,  came  back,  and  then  let  fall 
another  bomb.  Several  times  we  were  within  this  ckcle.  Would  he 
drop  the  bomb  just  where  I  lay?  I  made  myself  as  small  as  possible, 
put  my  knees  under  me  and  hunched  my  back.  Then  I  pulled  my 
coat  collar  over  my  head.  That  was  pretty  stupid.  Yet  when  one  is 
so  helpless  under  a  terrible  monster  one  does  things  that  one  laughs 
at  later.  My  Burberry  raincoat  would  scarcely  have  saved  my  head 


380      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

from  a  hundred-pound  projectile.  But  I  had  nothing  better.  I  smelled 
the  dry  goldenrod.  My  nose  was  in  it.  Then  I  peeked  out.  He  had 
passed.  I  lifted  my  eyes  while  scarcely  raising  my  body.  At  that 
moment  the  earth  shook.  A  bomb  had  hit  the  ground  across  the 
road,  about  a  hundred  yards  from  where  I  lay.  I  wondered  whether 
any  of  the  men  had  been  killed.  Here  I  was,  whole  and  well,  full 
of  senses  and  ideas.  I  could  move  my  muscles  and  I  could  see.  The 
next  moment  my  hands  and  intestines  and  lungs  might  be  flying 
through  the  air  and  I  would  be  finished.  It  would  not  be  painful,  I 
imagined.  It  would  take  only  a  second.  I  would  probably  not  be 
aware  of  it.  And  was  that  all?  I  recalled  a  person  I  knew.  Where  was 
the  plane?  I  could  see  it,  a  small  bkck  bird  in  the  blue,  graceful  and 
fine  to  look  at.  The  second  plane  dropped  a  bomb  on  Valmajado  and 
sped  away  from  us.  I  sat  up  and  inspected  the  scene  round  about  me. 
Men  were  stretched  out  about  ten  or  fifteen  feet  from  one  another, 
cool  and  collected.  I  stood  up  and  wanted  to  walk  to  what  I  thought 
was  a  better  position.  The  soldiers  yelled  at  me. 

"He  will  see  you.  Lie  down."  I  did  so,  and  rolled  a  little  in  the 
direction  of  that  position.  A  man  sat  behind  a  bush  reading  the  morn- 
ing El  Socialista. 

Two  fellows  were  conversing.  "We  must  have  planes.  We  cannot 
fight  without  planes.  Will  Russia  send  them— that's  the  question 
now."  The  other  said,  "If  the  rebels  win  there  will  be  an  inquisition 
worse  than  anything  Spain  has  ever  experienced/' 

The  plane  was  coming  again.  A  government  artillery  battery  had 
been  firing  that  morning.  He  was  searching  for  it.  We  were  be- 
tween him  and  the  battery.  He  was  directly  over  me.  I  was  sure  of 
it,  but  I  also  thought  I  might  be  wrong.  For  I  was  in  my  ostrich 
pose  again  and  I  could  merely  hear  the  purr  of  his  motor.  My  ear 
followed  his  progress.  He  had  passed.  The  noise  gave  me  the  dis- 
tance. I  sat  up  again.  Both  planes  were  now  directly  over  the  village 
of  Valmajado.  Both  dropped  bombs  on  it  simultaneously.  Then  they 
moved  away  from  one  another,  and  while  one  soon  became  a  speck 
in  the  sky  die  other  came  towards  us  and  descended.  Would  he  use 
his  machine  gun?  In  recent  days  the  rebel  airplanes  had  regularly 
fired  off  their  machine  guns  after  they  had  finished  bombing.  On 
Tuesday,  a  man  threw  himself  face  downward  with  his  hands 
stretched  out  in  front  of  him  when  a  rebel  plane  came  overhead. 
Fatal  mistake.  The  aviator's  machine  gun  drew  a  line  of  bullets  across 
the  solcjier's  wrists.  Would  that  pilot  up  there  do  something  similar? 


HOLY  WAR  381 

I  pulled  myself  inward.  The  roar  of  his  motor  was  quite  distinct. 
He  dropped  another  bomb  somewhere  in  the  vicinity.  The  earth  un- 
der me  shook.  Then  his  speed  increased,  the  sound  died  away.  The 
two  machines  had  done  their  work  and  disappeared.  The  entire  or- 
deal had  lasted  exactly  twenty  minutes.  The  soldiers  stood  up,  about 
three  hundred  of  them,  and  brushed  their  clothes.  An  officer  called 
them.  They  gathered  around  him  in  perfect  discipline. 

The  road  back  to  Navalcarnero  was  filled  with  peasants  who  had 
left  Valmajado  before  the  bombing  that  morning.  They  preferred  to 
become1  refugees  than  live  under  Franco.  As  the  rebels  approached, 
the  peasants  did  not  go  to  meet  them.  They  fled  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection. They  did  not  know  where  they  were  going.  I  saw  them 
asleep  evenings  by  the  roadside.  They  had  neither  food  nor  money. 
They  did  not  know  what  the  morrow  would  bring.  But  they  knew 
one  thing:  they  did  not  want  to  be  with  Franco.  Throughout  these 
months,  whole  villages  packed  their  poor  belongings  and  moved 
towards  Madrid.  Their  evacuation  was  a  vote  of  non-confidence  in 
Franco.  Democracy  is  not  merely  the  ballot  box.  There  are  many 
ways  of  voting.  Dropping  a  slip  of  paper  into  an  urn  is  the  easiest 
and  not  always  the  most  convincing  way.  Lenin  once  said  that  in 
1917,  "The  Czarist  army  voted  for  peace  with  its  legs.  It  ran  away 
from  the  trenches."  The  Spaniards  were  voting  for  the  Republic  by 
running  away  from  Franco. 

The  defense  of  Madrid  was  also  a  plebiscite.  Loyalist  resistance 
until  1939  against  cruel  odds  was  a  plebiscite.  Every  day  in  Spain 
was  election  day.  Franco  advanced  and  took  territory,  but  the  peo- 
ple voted  <*No." 

Votes  minus  arms,  however,  cannot  fight  Fascism.  An  unarmed  de- 
mocracy is  an  invitation  to  Fascism. 

One  evening  Koltzov  invited  me  to  the  special  Russian  dining 
room  in  the  Palace  Hotel.  There  were  many  recent  arrivals.  Their 
civilian  clothes  were  new  and  seemed  to  make  them  uncomfortable. 
Soviet  military  assistance  had  come. 

Still  Franco  moved  towards  Madrid.  Air  raids  multiplied.  Most 
of  them  occurred  during  the  day.  We  had  been  put  out  of  the  Florida 
Hotel.  I  moved  to  the  Capitol  which  was  a  sort  of  gridiron  build- 
ing that  stuck  out  conspicuously  into  the  Gran  Via  avenue.  I  was 
on  the  sixth  floor  and  had  a  long  balcony  from  which  I  could  see  a 
large  section  of  Madrid.  Whenever  planes  came  overhead,  men  and 


382      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

women  appeared  on  the  roofs  to  watch.  Once  I  watched  an  air  raid 
while  taking  a  shower. 

Food  got  worse.  The  water  was  turned  off  several  times  a  day 
and  we  had  none  at  all  from  ten  in  the  evening  to  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

The  city  was  nervous.  In  the  evenings,  the  blackout  made  every- 
thing gruesome.  Several  times,  militiamen  fired  from  the  street  into 
house  windows  where  a  light  shone.  Zeal  and  folly.  The  authorities 
suspected  that  Fascists  were  taking  advantage  of  the  darkness  to  com- 
mit murder  and  throw  the  blame  on  the  Loyalists. 

On  October  24,  I  drove  out  towards  Aranjuez.  There  had  been 
fighting  at  Sesena  and  Pinto.  I  was  with  Geoffrey  Cox,  a  corre- 
spondent of  the  'LoTidart  Express.  Ten  miles  out  from  Madrid  we 
saw  two  tanks  coming  towards  us.  At  closer  range  we  saw  that  one 
tank  was  towing  the  other.  Approaching  nearer,  the  tanks  stopped 
and  the  drivers  got  out  to  tinker  with  their  machines. 

I  looked  at  the  drivers,  walked  up  to  one,  and  addressed  him  in 
Russian.  He  had  an  unmistakably  Slav  face.  He  answered  in  Russian 
with  an  Ukrainian  accent.  I  said,  "Ukrainian?" 

He  said,  "Yes,  yes.  From  Kiev."  From  Kiev!  And  fighting  near 
Madrid!  He  told  me  they  had  been  in  a  battle  near  Parla  and  one 
machine  had  gone  out  of  order.  This  was  the  first  time  Soviet  arms 
had  gone  into  action  in  Loyalist  Spain— October  24,  1936.  We  stood 
and  chatted.  The  Soviet  tank  drivers  liked  the  scenery  and  the  Span- 
ish people.  Spanish  peasants  congregated  looking  very  happy.  "Ruso, 
EMSO"  they  said  and  smiled.  Presently,  a  car  drew  up  with  two  Ger- 
man anti-Nazi  photographers  who  were  in  the  correspondents'  group 
at  Madrid.  They  took  some  photographs.  The  Soviet  officer  in  charge 
of  both  tanks  said  he  could  not  allow  that  and  asked  me  to  tell  them 
that  they  would  have  to  come  along  with  him. 

"You  can't  do  that  here,"  I  explained  to  the  Russian. 

He  was  a  bit  bewildered  by  this  strange  announcement,  and  then 
he  said,  "In  that  case  I  must  have  their  cameras."  I  translated,  but 
the  photographers  produced  official  credentials  from  the  Foreign 
Office  which  stated  specifically  that  their  cameras  could  not  be  taken 
away  from  them. 

Nonplused,  the  Russian  told  me  he  would  insist  on  having  the 
exposed  films.  This  the  photographers  regarded  as  a  reasonable  re- 
quest. The  tank  driver  said,  "We  cannot  have  such  photographs 
printed  abroad." 


HOLY  WAR  383 

The  next  morning  I  was  in  the  corridor  of  the  Soviet  Embassy. 
Orlov  called  me  into  his  room.  He  showed  me  the  developed  films. 
He  was  the  head  of  the  GPU  in  Spain.  He  raged  and  said  the  pho- 
tographers would  have  to  leave  the  country.  I  assured  him  they  were 
good  anti-Fascists  and  certainly  meant  no  harm.  He  explained  that 
such  pictures  could  do  the  Soviet  Union  and  Spain  a  lot  of  harm  if 
they  got  into  the  hands  of  the  Non-intervention  Committee. 

The  photographers  were  not  expelled. 

After  meeting  the  two  tanks  we  proceeded  towards  Pinto.  On 
our  left  was  Cerro  de  los  Angeles.  Soldiers  ky  in  trenches  around 
the  hill  and  a  spiral  of  breastworks  was  slowly  being  dug  up  toward 
its  summit.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  in  a  small  white  house,  I  found 
Lister,  commander  of  the  Spanish  troops  in  the  area.  He  had  been 
fighting  a  rearguard  action  to  cover  Madrid,  and  he  was  tired.  He 
had  been  drinking.  Lister  spoke  all  languages  except  Spanish  badly. 
He  had  shipped  as  a  sailor  to  most  of  the  countries  of  the  world. 
He  had  worked  as  a  laborer  on  the  Dnieper  dam  construction  in 
Soviet  Russia.  I  spoke  Russian  with  him.  On  this  occasion,  Lister's 
Soviet  military  adviser,  "Fritz,"  a  thin  little  man  in  a  new  blue  suit, 
opened  the  staff  map  and  explained  the  situation  to  me.  The  Loyal- 
ists were  trying  to  delay  Franco's  approach  to  the  gates  of  Madrid. 

Geoffrey  Cox  and  I  walked  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  Three  black 
Junkers  bombers  appeared  and  headed,  as  we  thought,  straight  for 
us.  Geoffrey  picked  up  his  legs  and  ran  along  the  crest  and  I  ran 
away  after  him,  and  then  we  both  stopped  and  burst  into  a  laugh. 
If  they  had  dropped  bombs  our  running  fifty  yards  wouldn't  have 
helped.  The  Junkers  flew  on  to  Madrid  and  we  saw  their  bombs  fall 
on  the  city. 

In  Madrid  at  the  time  were:  Vernon  Bardett,  celebrated  British 
radio  commentator,  later  Independent  Member  of  Parliament;  Lud- 
wig  Renn,  German  Communist  novelist;  Gustav  Regler,  German 
Catholic  turned  Communist;  Claude  Cockburn,  Communist  editor  of 
the  Communist  The  Week,  a  mimeographed  dope-sheet,  and  foreign 
editor  of  the  London  Daily  Worker,  who  sometimes  wrote  under 
the  name  of  Frank  Pitcairn;  and  Andre  Viollis,  an  elderly  French- 
woman who  had  written  books  on  travel  and  had  suddenly  gone 
political  and  pro-Loyalist;  Gerda  Grepp,  a  Norwegian  girl  writing 
for  an  Oslo  Socialist  daily;  and  a  dwindling  group  of  bourgeois  for- 
eign correspondents.  The  bourgeois  correspondents  ate  at  the  same 


384      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

restaurant  almost  every  afternoon  and  evening;  we  were  all  losing 
weight. 

The  morning  of  November  5,  Madrid  was  pallid  with  fright.  Her 
friends  seemed  to  be  deserting  her  and  she  had  to  remain  behind. 
Automobiles  packed  with  occupants  and  laden  high  with  mattresses 
and  suitcases  dashed  toward  the  exits  of  the  city.  Peasants  guided 
their  donkey-drawn  and  ox-drawn  carts  through  the  streets.  For 
them  Madrid  was  a  refuge. 

No  food  in  the  hotel.  Most  foreigners  and  many  Spaniards  had 
left.  Pedestrians  hurried  and  did  not  look  around  them.  Normal  life 
was  dying.  Those  leaving  did  not  wish  to  see  anybody.  The  sense 
of  danger  was  not,  I  think,  directly  communicated  by  the  situation. 
It  made  itself  felt  through  the  hasty  departures  of  others.  Those 
who  could  not  leave  had  the  look  of  persons  in  a  trap  and  of  saying 
to  you,  as  you  passed,  "Tell  me,  please,  what  shall  I  do?"  I  felt  the 
same  way* 

I  walked  over  to  the  Palace  Hotel.  If  anybody  knew  the  military 
situation  the  Russians  would.  The  whole  staff  of  the  Soviet  Embassy 
had  left.  The  rooms  were  in  disarray.  Only  Orlov  had  remained  be- 
hind; the  GPU  would  be  the  last  to  leave  the  post  of  duty.  The 
members  of  the  Spanish  government,  Orlov  told  me*  had  left  the 
night  before.  I  asked  him  what  I  ought  to  do. 

"Leave  as  soon  as  possible!"  he  advised.  "There  is  no  front.  Madrid 
is  the  front." 

I  retraced  my  steps  towards  the  Gran  Vk.  I  walked  slowly.  Was 
this  the  end?  Would  Madrid  fall?  If  it  did,  could  resistance  continue 
elsewhere?  Another  defeat  for  the  Left?  Another  victory  for  Fas- 
cism and  evil?  Did  we  always  have  to  lose?  How  could  Franco  take 
Madrid  if  the  militiamen  fought  for  every  avenue  and  apartment 
house?  He  did  not  have  enough  men.  The  city  was  quiet.  If  there 
were  Fascists  inside  they  had  not  yet  stirred. 

Suppose  Franco  takes  Madrid,  I  thought.  Would  I  be  in  danger? 
Probably  not.  I  could  be  arrested  and  imprisoned.  Whom  would 
that  benefit?  Cold  and  hungry  in  a  Madrid  prison  watched  by  rebels! 
The  worst  thing,  it  seemed  to  me,  would  be  the  looting  and  shooting 
before  Franco  restored  order.  That  had  happened  at  Toledo.  I  did 
not  feel  like  taking  chances  with  Moors,  foreign  legionnaires,  and 
rebels  on  a  rampage. 

I  looked  into  the  large  plate-glass  window  of  the  Gran  Vk  Hotel. 
There  sat  Malraux  smoking. 


HOLY  WAR  385 

"What  is  the  situation?"  I  asked. 

"The  enemy  is  in  Carabanchel  Alto,"  he  announced  in  his  usual 
communique  style.  That  was  about  thirty-five  minutes'  walk  from 
where  we  were  standing. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"We  bombed  them  there  this  morning,"  he  replied.  That  was 
rather  convincing,  and  equally  distressing. 

I  asked  him  what  I  ought  to  do. 

"Get  out  quickly,"  he  said.  "Get  a  car.  If  you  can't  get  one  I'll 
fly  you  out  to  the  province  tomorrow  morning.  But  first  you'll  have 
to  go  bombing  with  us." 

I  had  not  yet  decided  definitely  to  leave  but  I  had  decided  to  leave 
by  car  if  I  did. 

In  the  morning  the  city  was  still  sadder  and  emptier.  There  was 
no  coffee  and  no  bread  in  the  hotel.  More  oxcarts  in  the  streets.  I 
told  Rosenblatt  that  I  had  decided  to  leave  and  invited  him  to  come 
with  me. 

"I  will  stay  here,"  he  said. 

That  made  it  more  difficult  for  me.  I  wondered  whether  I  ought 
to  change  my  mind  and  stay.  "Don't  be  sentimental,"  I  rebuked  my- 
self. "Suppose  everybody  behaved  like  you  and  departed?"  I  argued 
with  myself.  "But  I  am  no  soldier.  What  good  would  I  do  by  re- 
maining?" 

By  noon,  we  were  preparing  to  leave.  With  me  went  Gerda 
Grepp,  Ludwig  Renn,  Claude  Cockburn,  and  a  Spanish  friend.  We 
spent  the  night  in  Cuenca  and  the  next  day  reached  Albacete  where 
I  decided  to  stay. 


22.  I  Enlist 

TWO  days  after  the  beginning  of  the  siege  of  Madrid,  I  en- 
listed in  the  International  Brigade.  I  am  as  proud  of  that  as 
I  am  of  anything  I  have  done  in  my  life.  A  nation  was  bleed- 
ing. Machine  guns  were  being  mounted  on  the  ivory  tower.  It  was 
not  enough  to  write. 

For  fifteen  years  I  had  written  and  spoken  about  what  other  peo- 
ple did.  This  limitation  always  irked  me.  But  I  never  felt  tempted 
to  work  in  the  Soviet  Union  or  in  any  Communist  movement.  Now 
men  were  dying;  I  wanted  to  do  something.  Friends  said  my  articles 
were  a  contribution  to  the  cause.  But  I  wished  to  contribute  work 
as  well  as  words. 

I  was  the  first  American  to  enroll  in  the  International  Brigade.  I 
went  to  Andre  Marty,  the  French  Communist  deputy  and  chief 
commissar  of  the  Brigade,  and  revealed  my  intention  to  him.  He 
asked  me  what  I  could  do.  I  said  I  could  organize.  He  said,  *We 
need  a  quartermaster."  So  I  became  quartermaster  of  the  Interna- 
tional Brigade.  I  never  took  any  pay.  I  never  swore  allegiance  to 
anything  or  anybody.  I  don't  believe  anyone  in  the  brigade  did.  In 
the  beginning,  I  continued  to  live  in  the  Grand  Hotel.  But  then 
Marty  or  Vidal,  the  chief  of  staff,  would  phone  at  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing and  say,  *  Where  are  you?  The  staff  is  meeting."  Seven  A.M.!  I 
was  still  in  bed.  So  I  moved  to  a  room  in  the  house  on  the  edge  of 
Albacete  which  was  the  Brigade's  GHQ. 

Several  weeks  later,  an  American  named  Dadiuk  appeared  at  Alba- 
cete. He  was  an  electrician,  I  believe,  or  a  mechanic,  and  since  I  was 
in  charge  of  the  maintenance  of  barracks  I  asked  him  whether  he 
would  join  my  office  force. 

"I  came  here  to  fight,"  he  said. 

One  of  our  problems  was  the  refusal  of  most  men  to  do  office 
work.  They  preferred  to  train  for  the  front.  I  finally  persuaded  a 
young  German  named  Bauer,  son  of  a  rich  fanner  in  Argentina, 
who  had  paid  his  own  way  from  Buenos  Aires  to  Madrid,  to  act  as 

my  assistant.  But  once  Marty  insulted  him,  and  he  quit  and  went 

386 


I  ENLIST  387 

back  to  his  battalion.  Shortly  thereafter  he  left  for  the  Madrid  line. 

My  job  was  manifold.  I  had  to  feed  the  brigade  in  Albacete.  We 
sometimes  had  as  many  as  three  thousand  at  the  base.  I  had  to  clothe 
the  new  arrivals  from  head  to  foot,  keep  the  barracks  clean,  and 
distribute  arms.  Each  one  of  these  tasks  was  a  nightmare  because 
of  the  disorganization,  the  shortage  of  supplies,  and  the  crowding.  To 
add  to  my  troubles,  the  battalions  at  the  front  would 'send  emis- 
saries to  me  announcing  that  they  had  lost  cooking  utensils,  cloth- 
ing, and  bedding  in  a  battle.  But  I  had  nothing  to  give  them.  Once 
a  battalion  commander  threatened  to  send  an  armed  guard  from 
the  front  to  arrest  me  for  failing  to  deliver  the  equipment  he.  de- 
manded. What  could  I  do?  I  begged  everywhere. 

My  best  friend  was  Martinez  Barrio.  I  had  met  him  in  April,  1936, 
in  the  Cortez.  He  was  wearing  formal  diplomatic  dress  and  looked 
the  stiff  statesman.  He  was  Vice  President  of  the  Spanish  Republic 
and  President  of  Parliament.  But  now  he  was  also  civil  governor 
of  Albacete,  and  to  him  I  turned  in  my  distress.  He  sat  beside  a  kero- 
sene stove  in  a  cold  room,  with  a  woolen  blanket  over  his  legs,  a 
thick  scarf  around  his  neck,  counting  up  figures  and  receiving  count- 
less officers  and  civilians. 

"I  must. have  four  hundred  pairs  of  socks  tomorrow,"  I  would  say 
to  the  Vice  President.  "Four  hundred  Frenchmen  and  Poles  are  ar- 
riving in  the  morning." 

Sometimes  we  would  trade.  In  my  storerooms  I  had  five  thousand 
pairs  of  army  shoes  sent  by  friends  of  Spain  abroad. 

On  one  occasion,  a  whole  train-full  of  supplies  came  through 
from  France  to  Albacete.  It  was  sent  by  the  French  Communist 
party.  It  was  my  business  to  unload  it  and  store  it.  I  had  no  idea  in 
advance  what  it  contained.  Squads  of  men  gladly  volunteered  for 
the  work.  We  found  thousands  of  uniforms,  several  thousand  gas 
masks— we  were  the  only  unit  in  Spain  which  had  gas  masks— (gas 
was  never  used  in  the  war  because  both  sides  had  gas  and  neither 
side  had  sufficient  gas  masks)— tinned  food,  woolen  sweaters,  blan- 
kets, woolen  helmets,  underwear,  and  field  kitchens. 

As  we  opened  one  bale,  out  came  a  baby's  rompers.  I  thought: 
"Those  fellows  have  gone  crazy."  Then  a  silk  blouse.  Then  the 
barrel  of  a  machine  gun.  They  had  smuggled  through  several  dozen 
revolvers  too.  Marty  took  them  and  guarded  them  zealously.  He 
gave  me  one;  I  gave  it  back.  I  had  the  rank  of  major  or  "comman- 
dante"  but  the  men  always  addressed  officers  as  "comrade."  I  wore 


388      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

a  uniform  consisting  of  corduroy  jacket  buttoned  up  to  the  neck, 
corduroy  pantaloons  that  fell  to  the  ankles  and  that  had  big  patch 
pockets  on  the  thighs,  and  heavy  army  boots.  Marty  complained 
because  I  wore  nothing  on  my  head. 

When  I  enlisted  I  informed  nobody  abroad.  I  also  stopped  send- 
ing weekly  dispatches  to  The  Nation.  The  Nation  wired  me  to  Ma- 
drid but  I  was  in  Albacete.  It  suspected  an  accident.  It  asked  the 
United  Press  in  New  York  to  investigate  through  its  correspondents 
in  Spain.  It  got  in  touch  with  the  Spanish  Ambassador  in  Wash- 
ington who  wired  Valencia  inquiring  about  my  whereabouts.  It  sent 
out  publicity  which  was  printed  in  the  papers:  "Writer  Lost  in 
Spain."  My  sister  in  Philadelphia,  frantic,  wired  Markoosha  in  Mos- 
cow who  wired  Rosenberg,  the  Soviet  Ambassador  in  Valencia.  My 
sister  also  got  in  touch  with  Oumansky,  the  Soviet  Ambassador  in 
Washington,  who  she  knew  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine.  He 
wired  Moscow.  Moscow  wired  Rosenberg. 

Later  people  said  to  me,  "What  happened?  How  did  you  get  lost?" 

"I  wasn't  lost,"  I  replied.  "I  knew  all  the  time  where  I  was."  Most 
friends  winked  as  though  to  say,  "I  understand.  You  were  off  with 
a  girl."  I  was  in  Albacete  handing  out  shirts  and  blankets. 

My  chief  headache  wis  arms.  The  Twelfth  Brigade,  commanded 
by  General  "Lukach"  (I  had  known  him  in  Moscow  as  Mate  Zalka, 
a  Hungarian  Communist  author  who  had  been  living  in  Russia  many 
years  and  had  served  in  the  Red  Army  cavalry),  was  leaving  for 
the  front.  We  had  no  rifles.  Orders  had  arrived  for  the  brigade  to 
move  to  Madrid.  And  we  obeyed  the  orders  although  it  seemed  stu- 
pid to  let  the  men  proceed  unarmed.  They  were  actually  drawn  up 
in  the  large  uncovered  courtyard  of  the  Gaurdia  Nationale  barracks 
and  the  farewell  speeches  were  being  made— Ludwig  Renn  was  in 
that  outfit  (he  had  enlisted  the  same  day  I  did)— when  trucks  drew 
up  with  wooden  crates  filled  with  heavily-oiled  rifles.  The  men  "fell 
out"  and  each  got  a  rifle  and  started  rattling  the  bolt  and  looking 
down  the  muzzle  and  wiping  off  the  grease.  There  was  great  jubi- 
lation. 

I  usually  went  to  bed  at  about  nine  thirty.  One  night  at  one  A.M. 
there  was  a  loud  impatient  knock  at  my  door,  and  I  heard  Marty's 
wife  call  out,  '^Everybody  up,  fully  dressed." 

I  rushed  downstairs.  News  had  come  from  Valencia  that  the  Ital- 
ians had  landed  in  the  night  on  the  coast,  aad  the  International  Bri- 


I  ENLIST  389 

gade  had  been  instructed  to  "stand  by."  We  were  to  go  and  inter- 
cept the  Italians. 

"With  what?"  was  my  first  thought. 

None  of  our  men  in  Albacete  had  rifles.  Marty  ordered  me  to  dis- 
tribute what  arms  I  had.  I  had  several  hundred  old  rifles  in  an  old 
church  where  I  had  placed  a  heavy  guard.  Each  rifle  was  catalogued. 
Some  were  marked  "Oviedo,  1896."  I  remembered  that  because  it 
was  the  year  of  my  birth.  But  it  wouldn't  have  been  half  so  bad  if 
they  had  all  been  of  1896  vintage.  Some  were  younger,  some  were 
French,  some  American,  some  German.  And  besides  I  did  not  have 
bullets  that  fitted  all  of  them.  I  handed  out  about  150  rifles. 

The  Internationals  were  quartered  in  several  buildings,  one  the 
office  of  the  Bank  of  Spain.  I  rushed  around  in  my  car  to  see  whether 
the  men  were  up  and  ready.  They  had  to  receive  cold  rations  for  the 
night  march.  My  assistants  handed  out  cheese,  cans  of  tuna  fish,  bread, 
lemons,  and  wine.  Without  wine  the  French  would  neither  fight,  nor 
train,  nor  work.  Some  men  who  had  arrived  only  recently  were  still 
short  of  articles  of  clothing  which  had  to  be  distributed.  Everybody 
worked  with  quiet  efficiency.  The  men  sat  on  the  stone  floors  and 
in  the  courtyards  with  their  packs  on  their  backs,  sleepy  but  excited. 
"Will  we  get  rifles?"  they  asked  me  as  I  passed  through. 

I  returned  to  the  staff.  Marty  had  thrown  a  heavy  armed  guard 
around  the  house.  There  was  a  complete  blackout  in  the  town.  As  I 
approached  the  house,  a  guard  stuck  his  bayonet  at  my  chest.  They 
told  me  they  had  orders  to  shoot  anybody  who  failed  to  answer  their 
challenge  immediately.  I  went  inside  and  reminded  Marty  that  the 
enemy  was  still  hundreds  of  miles  away  on  the  coast,  and  that  mean- 
time we  might  have  a  silly  accident  here.  He  was  the  hysterical  type; 
besides  he  thought  he  was  being  efficient  and  military. 

Soon  the  Russians  arrived.  The  International  Brigade  functioned 
under  the  friendly  wing  of  three  Soviet  officers,  who,  however,  made 
only  occasional  visits  to  Albacete.  One  was  called  Colonel  Valois  and 
though  he  spoke  an  excellent  French  that  was  not  his  name.  I  heard 
somebody  call  him  Simonov.  The  other  was  called  Petrovitch,  and  I 
have  forgotten  the  name  of  the  third. 

Marty  treated  them  and  all  Russians  as  though  they  were  gods. 
He  tried  to  keep  everybody  away  from  them.  I  behaved  towards 
them  as  I  did  toward  others  who  were  here  fighting  for  Spain,  and 
since  I  spoke  Russian  they  frequently  consulted  me  about  conditions 
and  sentiment  in  the  brigade,  Marty  resented  it. 


390      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

When  they  arrived  that  night  I  said  to  them,  "Were  you  attacked 
by  the  guard  outside?" 

They  laughed  and  said,  "Who  is  responsible  for  that?" 

Marty  heard  the  question  and  rushed  outside  to  send  the  guard 
away  leaving  only  the  usual  sentry.  The  voices  of  the  Russians  intro- 
duced an  atmosphere  of  calm.  The  Russians  reported  that  the  news 
about  the  Italians  was  still  vague  but  we  had  to  be  in  readiness.  We 
were  the  most  reliable  unit  this  side  of  Madrid.  I  told  them  we  had 
no  rifles  much  less  machine  guns.  They  said  they  were  seeing  to  that. 
After  an  hour,  the  order  went  out  to  let  the  men  go  to  bed.  The 
"state  of  alarm"  continued. 

The  morning  brought  two  items  of  good  news.  The  landing  of 
the  Italians  was  a  false  alarm.  And  we  had  arms.  They  were  waiting 
to  be  unloaded  in  the  patio  of  the  Guardia  Nationale  barracks.  I 
dashed  over.  Tremendous  joy  among  the  men.  There  were  several 
thousand  rifles.  But  more.  There  were  several  hundred  machine  guns: 
Colts  from  America  with  a  few  parts  missing,  French  guns,  all  new, 
a  few  Soviet  Maxims— the  first  Soviet  arms  the  brigade  had  had— and 
several  dozen  light  machine  guns  carried  on  the  shoulder.  These  last 
were  Bergmanns— new,  and  made  in  Nazi  Germany.  The  Nazis  had 
sold  them  to  the  Poles,  and  the  French  Communist  party,  with  Com- 
intern money,  had  bought  them  from  the  Polish  army.  Warsaw 
needed  money. 

That  day  was  a  holiday  in  the  brigade.  Wherever  I  went,  in  the 
barracks,  in  the  mess- houses— most  of  the  men  ate  in  the  Albaoete 
bull  ring— and  in  the  streets,  I  was  asked,  "When  do  we  go  to  the 
front?"  Now  that  they  had  arms  what  were  they  waiting  for?  They 
went  soon  enough,  and  many  of  them  never  returned  or  returned  as 
cripples. 

The  Loyalist  government  took  arms  wherever  it  could  get  them. 
Many  of  the  purchases  were  made  abroad  by  individual  Spanish 
agents.  Any  Spaniard  who  said  he  had  a  friend  in  Antwerp  or  Athens 
or  Amsterdam  or  Stockholm,  who  once  knew  a  man  who  had  worked 
for  an  arms  merchant  was  given  a  commission  and  money  to  try  to 
buy  whatever  was  available.  Some  of  these  Spaniards  were  fraudulent 
adventurers  who  made  off  with  a  lot  of  funds,  and  some  were  well- 
intentioned  failures.  Only  a  few  succeeded.  Foreign  friends  of  the 
Loyalists  also  did  their  best  in  all  countries,  with  scant  success.  A  few 
hundred  machine  guns  or  two  artillery  batteries  were  a  big  haul,  but 
they  amounted  to  very  litde  at  the  front. 


I  ENLIST  391 

Among  the  successful  left-wing  Sir  Basil  Zaharoffs,  apart  from 
Malraux,  was  a  French  Communist  deputy  named  Dutilleul.  He  had 
established  contacts  with  Poland,  Belgium,  and  other  countries.  He 
used  money  from  the  French  Communist  party  and  the  Comintern. 
But  this  source  was  running  dry,  and  when  he  came  to  Albacete  in 
November,  1936,  he  asked  me  to  introduce  him  to  members  of  the 
Spanish  government.  I  promised  to  go  with  him  to  Valencia.  We 
made  an  appointment  to  leave  Albacete  early  one  afternoon.  He  was 
late.  I  waited  for  him  in  the  staff  building. 

"Haven't  you  left  yet?"  Marty  asked. 

I  told  him  I  was  waiting  for  Dutilleul. 

"Where  is  Dutilleul?"  he  inquired  angrily. 

I  told  him  he  was  making  speeches  to  the  men. 

"What?"  he  yelled.  "Who  gave  him  permission?  I  ana  the  one  who 
makes  speeches  here." 

He  called  an  orderly.  "Find  Dutilleul  and  bring  him  to  me  imme- 
diately." 

Marty  was  absurd.  A  French  Communist  deputy  was  addressing 
soldiers  of  the  International  Brigade.  How  could  Marty  object  to 
that?  Marty  wanted  to  be  the  only  boulder  on  the  beach. 

In  Valencia  I  introduced  Dutilleul  to  Foreign  Minister  del  Vayo, 
and  then  the  three  of  us  went  over  to  the  office  of  Prime  Minister 
Caballero.  Dutilleul  was  asking  for  $30,000,000  with  which  to  buy 
arms  abroad.  He  told  Caballero  what  he  thought  he  could  get  with 
the  money. 

Caballero  hastily  called  together  the  Inner  War  Cabinet  and  sev- 
eral attaches.  Everybody  arrived  in  short  order.  Those  present  were 
Caballero,  del  Vayo,  Indalecio  Prietp,  Minister  of  Air  and  Navy, 
General  Jose  Asensio,  assistant  Minister  of  War,  a  representative  of 
the  air  force,  Julio  Just,  Minister  of  Public  Works,  Dutilleul  and  I. 
Caballero  told  me  I  could  stay. 

I  had  met  Indalecio  Prieto  once  before  in  Madrid.  He  had  a  tre- 
mendous, bald,  egg-shaped  head  set  on  a  blubbery  diabetic  body  of 
gigantic  dimensions.  He  was  a  right-wing  socialist  and  Caballero  was 
a  left-wing  socialist  and  they  were  regarded  as  bitter  rivals  for  na- 
tional leadership.  With  exemplary  restraint  and  discipline,  Prieto  had 
nevertheless  consented  to  serve  under  Caballero.  At  this  meeting  he 
did  very  little  talking  and  when  he  did  speak  he  showed  a  marked 
deference  to  Caballero.  What  Prieto  said  was  the  most  intelligent 
contribution  to  the  entire  deliberation.  He  agreed  that  they  ought 


392      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

to  buy  arms  in  endless  quantities.  "But  our  biggest  need  is  to  manu- 
facture munitions  at  home,"  he  declared.  "Would  it  not  be  possible 
to  purchase  the  mechanical  equipment  for  a  factory  to  manufacture 
rifles?" 

Various  technical  matters  were  discussed  and  finally  it  was  decided 
to  instruct  Negrin  to  make  out  a  check  for  $30,000,000. 

Dutilleul  gave  me  itemized  lists  of  the  cargoes  of  freighters  already 
chartered  which  would  soon  arrive  in  Loyalist  ports.  The  staff  of  the 
International  Brigade  was  eager  to  get  as  much  as  possible  of  this 
equipment  for  its  own  men.  We  were  growing  fast.  By  chance,  for 
those  were  active  days  and  I  suppressed  my  instincts  as  a  collector  of 
documents,  I  kept  several  orders  of  the  day.  On  November  19,  for 
instance,  600  men  were  in  Barcelona  and  would  reach  Albacete  the 
next  afternoon.  Next  day  we  learned  that  the  detachment  of  600 
actually  contained  1,080.  Most  of  them  were  old  soldiers  or  trained 
sportsmen  and  with  a  little  drill  they  would  soon  be  ready  to  go  to 
the  front.  Madrid  was  holding,  but  nobody  knew  when  a  stiff  Franco 
attack  was  coming.  We  needed  arms.  The  S.S.  Ramon  was  due  from 
Danzig  with  artillery,  machine  guns,  and  hand  grenades,  and  Marty 
asked  me  to  go  to  Valencia  and  ask  Caballero  for  most  of  its  contents. 
Caballero  promised  about  three-fifths  of  the  precious  goods.  The  ship 
was  to  dock  in  Valencia.  But  she  was  already  several  hours  late.  She 
had  to  pass  through  Gibraltar.  Fascist  airmen  and  submarines  were 
patrolling  the  straits.  Every  minute  of  waiting  became  a  terrific  strain. 
I  went  to  the  Soviet  Embassy  at  the  Hotel  Metropole.  Kolya,  I  knew, 
was  attached  to  the  Loyalist  fleet.  I  found  him  in  his  room.  I  told  him 
the  Ramon  was  late.  Couldn't  they  send  a  plane  from  Cartagena  to 
look  for  her  and  if  she  was  located  dispatch  a  destroyer  to  convoy 
her?  Kolya  got  on  the  telephone  to  the  main  Loyalist  naval  base  at 
Cartagena.  They  promised  to  send  out  a  reconnaissance  machine.  I 
went  away  and  sat  in  a  cafe.  In  fifteen  minutes,  I  was  back  again  in 
Kolya's  room.  He  phoned  again.  No  news. 

.  Kolya  was  a  man  of  about  thirty-three,  blond,  straight,  and  tall, 
pure  Slav.  He  had  learned  Spanish.  He  was  calm  and  simple.  He  was 
a  bit  perturbed  too  but  did  not  show  it.  Kolya  is  Nicholas  Kuznetzov, 
now  Soviet  admiral  and  the  Soviet  Union's  Commissar  of  Navy. 

A  long  hour  elapsed  while  we  talked  about  the  Loyalist  fleet. 
Finally,  Cartagena  called  and  reported  that  the  Ramon  had  been 
sighted  hugging  the  African  coast.  A  fast  destroyer  had  been  detailed 
to  meet  her  and  a  cruiser  would  be  in  readiness  in  case  of  attack. 


I  ENLIST  393 

The  Ramon  got  in  safely.  I  returned  to  Albacete.  But  the  Spanish 
chief  of  staff  at  Albacete  told  me  that  he  had  received  an  order  from 
General  Asensio  which  countermanded  Caballero's  promise  to  me 
about  the  distribution  of  the  cargo.  The  chief  of  staff  showed  me 
Asensio's  telegram.  The  munitions  would  come  to  Albacete  but  the 
International  Brigade  was  to  get  only  a  small  portion  of  them.  I 
argued  with  the  chief  of  staff.  I  ran  to  Martinez  Barrio.  We  had  the 
best  soldiers  and  they  insisted  on  going  to  the  fighting  line  without 
delay.  In  the  end,  we  reached  a  compromise  between  Caballero's 
promise  and  Asensio's  instructions. 

I  went  to  Madrid  almost  once  a  week.  My  first  visit  after  the  siege 
commenced  was  on  November  15.  In  ten  days,  Madrid  had  changed 
its  aspect.  Frivolity  gone!  Barricades  instead!  Streets  had  been  torn 
up  and  the  granite  blocks  used  to  build  walls  across  streets  and  in 
front  of  big  buildings.  Avenues  were  dug  up  to  obstruct  tanks.  Most 
Madrilefios  refused  to  leave  the  city.  The  government  actually  ar- 
rested several  noted  artists  and  professors  and  took  them  to  the  coast 
where  they  were  released.  It  did  not  want  them  to  be  hurt  or  killed. 
The  art  treasures  of  the  Prado  and  other  museums  were  moved  out. 
This  was  no  simple  task.  Some  of  the  big  Velasquez  and  Goyas  could 
not  be  rolled  without  cracking  the  varnish  and  color.  If  they  were 
transported  in  their  frames  in  ordinary  trucks  they  might  be  bombed 
or  machine-gunned  from  the  air.  The  Loyalist  government  therefore 
used  specially  armored  trucks  for  this  purpose. 

Madrid  was  stripping  for  a  long  fight.  On  November  6,  Franco 
could  have  entered  the  city  without  encountering  any  effective  re- 
sistance. Instead  he  waited.  Some  said  he  wanted  to  take  Madrid  on 
November  7,  just  to  "celebrate  the  Bolshevik  revolution."  Previously 
he  had  announced  he  would  occupy  it  on  October  12,  Columbus 
Day.  Spaniards  relish  these  little  pleasantries.  But  when  Franco  struck 
on  November  8,  it  was  too  late.  Spanish  troops  had  occupied  a  strong 
position  at  Carabanchel  thus  obstructing  rebel  progress  from  the 
Toledo  area,  and  an  International  Brigade  unit  had  quickly  manned 
the  northern  defenses  of  the  city.  When  these  Internationals  marched 
through  Madrid  the  civilians  greeted  them  with  "Vw&  l&usia"  Span- 
iards long  regarded  them  as  Soviet  troops.  Most  of  them  were  French. 
They  numbered  1,900.  The  second  International  contingent— Luk- 
ach's  Twelfth— reached  the  front  on  November  14.  Its  strength 
was  then  1,550.  They— a  handful— saved  the  military  situation.  The 
first  group  suffered  900  casualties  in  its  first  four  weeks  under  fire. 


394      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Lukach  lost  750  men  in  the  first  three  weeks.  These  fighters  had  left 
peaceful  jobs  and  peaceful  countries  to  die  or  lose  their  eyes  and  arms 
in  the  struggle  against  Fascism.  But  nobody  used  big  words  in  the 
Brigade.  It  was  a  big,  dirty,  costly  job.  Flags  were  furled.  The  flags 
waved  in  the  heart. 

Throughout  the  centuries,  men  have  left  their  homes  to  fight  on 
foreign  soil  for  liberty.  Byron,  Lafayette,  Pulaski,  von  Steuben,  Kos- 
ciusko,  the  Lafayette  Esquadrille,  the  International  Brigade— all  had 
the  same  incentive  and  the  same  tradition.  A  police  officer  was  pursu- 
ing Lafayette  with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest  and  arrived  at  a  French 
port  just  as  the  Marquis  sailed  for  America.  That  happened  to  many 
men  who  enlisted  in  the  International  Brigade.  Often  they  had  to 
climb  the  Pyrenees  in  the  night  in  order  to  come  down  in  Spain  the 
next  day.  Those  who  could  not  make  the  long  trek  through  the  snow 
at  high  altitudes  were  carried  by  their  comrades. 

Especially  in  the  first  part  of  the  war,  the  International  Brigade 
performed  an  indispensable  service  in  stemming  the  Franco  tide  until 
the  Spanish  regiments  were  better  trained.  Being  a  good  soldier  is 
often  a  matter  of  getting  accustomed  to  the  noise  of  shells  and  bombs. 
The  human  animal  becomes  accustomed  to  almost  anything.  The 
soldier  must  also  feel  what  he  is  fighting  for.  At  the  front  in  Spain, 
men  about  to  go  into  action  would  say  to  their  officers,  "Is  this  going 
to  be  important?"  If  tomorrow  the  official  communique  was  going 
to  say,  "The  Loyalists  straightened  their  line  on  the  X  sector,"  or 
"Occasional  skirmishes  in  the  evening,"  he  did  not  want  to  die  for 
that.  He  wanted  to  die  for  victory,  for  a  grand  push. 

The  politics  of  a  soldier  likewise  make  a  lot  of  difference.  If  he 
has  any  doubts  about  the  government's  policy,  he  fights  with  less 
bravery.  That  is  why  the  Anarchists  usually  fought  badly.  They  did 
not  want  to  die  for  Caballero  or  Negrin  or  Martinez  Barrio  or  the 
regimes  personified  by  these  men. 

Several  days  after  I  enlisted,  Marty  placed  heavy  guards  around 
all  the  International  Brigade's  premises:  he  had  learned  that  Buena- 
ventura Durutti,  at  the  head  of  10,000  Anarchists  from  Barcelona 
was  stopping  in  Albacete  en  route  to  Madrid  to  check  Franco.  It 
turned  out  that  there  were  not  10,000  but  3,000  and  that  they  had 
no  intentions  against  our  brigade.  They  behaved  like  a  lot  of  tem- 
peramental gentlemen  but  apart  from  that  did  nobody  any  harm. 
Marty,  the  Communist,  was  hypersuspicious  of  them. 

Many  Communists  hated  Marty.  This  was  especially  true  of  Amer- 


I  ENLIST  395 

ican  Communist  leaders  whom  he  treated  with  calculated  rudeness. 
The  Americans  in  the  Brigade  resented  the  fact  that  he  confiscated 
their  United  States  passports  and  in  hundreds  of  cases  never  returned 
them.  The  fate  of  those  passports  was  a  subject  of  much  speculation. 
I  believe  Mr.  Bullitt,  not  without  reason,  suspected  that  they  had 
been  presented  to  the  GPU. 

On  November  15,  I  was  in  Madrid.  I  went  to  the  War  Office  to 
see  General  Goriev  who  had  taken  command  of  the  military  situa- 
tion. I  asked  an  attendant  where  I  could  find  General  Goriev.  He 
beckoned  me  to  follow  him  and  walked  through  long  corridors  call- 
ing out  to  everyone  he  met,  "Have  you  seen  the  Russian  general, 
have  you  seen  the  Russian  general?"  Goriev's  presence  there  was 
a  secret,  but  Spaniards  hate  secrets. 

As  I  sat  in  Goriev's  office,  his  Spanish  interpreter  and  aide,  Profes- 
sor Robles  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  came  in  to  tell  him  that 
Colonel  Fuqua,  the  American  military  attache,  was  outside  and 
wanted  to  get  the  latest  information.  With  the  directness  of  an  old 
army  man,  Fuqua  had  applied  to  the  source.  Goriev  instructed  Robles 
to  talk  to  him. 

•  Late  that  evening,  I  was  in  staff  headquarters  with  Goriev.  He  was 
waiting  for  the  latest  news.  Durum  had  gone  into  action.  A  tall 
Circassian  officer  of  Russia's  Red  Army  served  as  his  aide.  The  Anar- 
chists were  in  front  of  Mt.  Garabitas  in  the  Casa  de  Campo  which 
controlled  the  approaches  to  Madrid  proper.  They  were  fresh  troops 
and  Goriev  had  assigned  an  important  sector  to  them. 

After  midnight,  the  Circassian  arrived  and  reported  that  the  Anar- 
chists had  fled  in  panic  before  a  small  force  of  Moors.  This  would 
allow  Franco  to  enter  the  University  City. 

Durum  wanted  his  men  to  fight.  That  made  him  unpopular.  I  saw 
him  frequently  in  the  Gran  Via  Hotel  in  the  evening.  He  had  a  large 
bodyguard  with  their  fingers  always  on  the  triggers  of  their  sub- 
machine guns. 

Several  days  after  the  Anarchist  debacle  near  Mt.  Garabitas, 
Durum  was  killed  at  the  front.  He  was  shot  from  the  rear,  and  it 
was  generally  assumed  that  his  own  men  assassinated  him  because 
he  favored  active  Anarchist  participation  in  the  war  and  co-operation 
with  Caballero.  But  many  Anarchists  were  interested  first  of  all  in 
establishing  an  ideal  libertarian  republic  in  Spain  and  did  not  see  eye 
to  eye  with  the  Socialists  or  the  Communists  or  the  bourgeois  Re- 


396      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

publicans,  and  were  none  too  enthusiastic  about  dying  for  the  Cabal- 
lero  government.  It  was  not  "important." 

My  work  as  quartermaster  in  the  brigade  occupied  all  my  atten- 
tion, but  lest  I  lose  sight  of  the  broader  aspects  of  the  Spanish  situa- 
tion, I  took  off  one  day  a  week,  or  two  nights  and  a  day,  to  visit 
Madrid  or  Valencia,  the  new  capital. 

One  evening,  at  the  dinner  table  in  the  Grand  Hotel  of  Albacete, 
Ignacio  Cisneros  heard  me  say  that  I  was  going  to  Madrid  the  next 
morning.  "Why  not  go  by  plane,"  he  suggested.  "There  will  be  a 
plane  at  seven." 

By  car  the  trip  took  four  hours.  I  would  have  to  send  my  car  to 
Madrid  anyway  so  as  to  be  able  to  get  back.  The  plane  trip  would 
last  an  hour  and  a  half,  Cisneros  told  me.  I  added  an  hour  for  delays. 
Little  time  gained.  But  I  grasped  the  opportunity.  It  sounded  exciting. 

The  plane  was  an  old  crate  that  made  only  ninety  miles  an  hour. 
It  started  ninety  minutes  late.  It  was  a  military  machine  used  for 
reconnaissance  and  it  had  a  huge  hole  in  the  rear  of  the  roof  through 
which  a  machine  gun  stuck  out. 

During  the  last  half  hour  of  the  flight  the  pilot's  assistant  told  each 
one  of  die  eight  passengers  to  watch  a  sector  of  the  horizon  for 
enemy  aircraft  and  we  hugged  the  earth,  literally  skimming  the  farm 
houses.  Peasants  gave  us  the  clenched-fist  salute.  As  we  approached 
the  airfield  I  saw  a  large  semi-circle  of  pursuit  planes  parked  on  the 
outer  rim  with  their  noses  pointed  outward.  I  recognized  them  as  the 
well-known  stub-nosed  Soviet  Chatos.  Every  hangar  had  been  hit  by 
bombs  and  resembled  a  charred  barn.  This  was  the  Russian  airdrome 
at  Alcala  de  Henares. 

When  we  got  out  I  addressed  a  man  in  Russian  and  asked  \phen 
there  would  be  a  car  for  Madrid.  There  could  have  been  no  mistake 
about  his  nationality.  He  replied,  "Right  away."  In  a  moment,  a  man 
in  a  brown  leather  coat  beckoned  to  me  and  walked  towards  the 
center  of  the  field.  A  huge  Mauser  revolver  hung  down  the  side  of 
his  leg.  I  said  to  myself,  "GPU." 

"Who  are  you?"  he  quizzed. 

I  took  out  my  United  States  passport,  showed  him  my  Soviet  visas, 
and  explained  that  I  was  an  American  journalist.  He  wanted  to  know 
how  I  got  into  a  military  machine,  what  I  intended  to  do  in  Madrid, 
and  how  I  expected  to  get  back.  I  told  him. 

His  eyes  photographed  me  for  his  memory,  and  then  he  told  me 
it  was  all  right.  That  evening  I  sat  with  Koltzov  of  Pravda  and  Car- 


I  ENLIST  397 

men  of  Izvestia  in  their  room  in  the  Palace  Hotel  in  Madrid  when 
the  same  man  walked  in  with  mail  for  them  from  Russia. 

Carmen  lay  on  his  bed  reading  letters  and  Moscow  papers.  Sud- 
denly he  exclaimed,  "Fischer,  here's  something  about  you."  He  had 
started  reading,  in  a  fat  Soviet  monthly,  an  installment  of  Ilf  and 
Petrov's  account  of  their  trip  to  America. 

Somebody  opened  a  window  and  we  heard  quick  machine-gun  fire 
which  sounded  like  cavalry  galloping  over  cobblestones.  "Sounds 
nearer,"  Koltzov  remarked  gravely.  It  sounded  to  me  like  just  around 
the  corner. 

"Close  it,"  Carmen  begged.  "I  want  to  read." 

He  read  aloud  from  Ilf  and  Petrov.  These  two  Soviet  writers  ex- 
plained how  they  prepared  for  their  trip  to  the  United  States.  They 
looked  up  Walter  Duranty  in  Moscow.  "When  you  tell  an  American 
you  are  going  to  America,"  they  wrote— I  am  quoting  from  memory 
—"he  does  not  tell  you  what  America  is  like,  or  what  is  of  interest 
there.  He  sits  down  at  his  typewriter  and  gives  you  a  letter  to  So- 
and-So  and  then  another  letter  to  XYZ,  'Yes  and  you  must  visit  my 
friend  ABC/  and  he  bangs  out  another  letter  of  introduction.  Louis 
Fischer  did  the  same  thing,  and  so  did  Sergei  Eisenstein,  the  Soviet 
film  director,  and  others.  By  the  time  we  had  to  leave  Moscow  our 
single  suitcase  was  so  filled  with  these  precious  letters  that  we  had 
trouble  squeezing  in  our  four  shirts  and  four  pairs  of  socks.  In  New 
York  we  revealed  to  Soviet  Consul  Arens  our  possession  of  these 
valuable  letters  and  asked  him  what  to  do.  He  said,  'Give  them  to  me. 
I  will  take  care  of  that.'  So  Arens  took  the  letters  and  invited  the 
persons  to  whom  they  were  addressed  to  a  big  cocktail  party  at  the 
Soviet  consulate.  The  appointed  afternoon  we,  all  nervous,  stood  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs  with  Arens.  The  writers,  journalists,  and  artists 
of  America  started  arriving.  Arens  introduced  us.  Each  one  shook 
hands  with  us  and  said,  'How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ilf.  Glad  to  know  you, 
Mr.  Petrov,'  and  walked  into  the  big  reception  room.  They  drank, 
smoked,  talked,  and  laughed.  We  remained  at  the  head  of  die  stairs, 
for  by  the  time  the  last  one  had  arrived,  the  first  one  started  going 
home,  and  then  others  went  home,  and  each  one,  passing  us  on  the 
way  out,  said,  'Pleased  to  have  seen  you,  Mr.  Ilf.  It  was  a  great  pleas- 
ure, Mr.  Petrov.'  Soon  everybody  was  gone.  Our  letters  were  gone 
too  and  we  had  not  talked  to  a  single  person." 

I  interrupted  Carmen's  reading  to  tell  him  about  an  episode  of  the 


398      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Uf-Petrov  visit  which  had  been  reported  to  me  in  a  personal  letter 
from  New  York.  My  friend  Alex  Gumberg  had  taken  Ilf  and  Petrov 
out  to  his  country  home  in  Connecticut.  Petrov,  who  spoke  some 
English,  sat  on  a  couch  at  one  end  of  the  large  dining  hall  talking 
to  American  guests,  while  on  a  couch  at  the  opposite  end  sat  Ilf  who 
knew  no  English.  Next  to  Ilf  was  a  pretty  girl.  Alex  was  there  to 
translate. 

The  girl  said,  "Mr.  Ilf,  does  the  Soviet  government  really  give  you 
freedom  to  write  as  you  please?"  Alex,  knowing  the  fruidessness  of 
such  a  discussion,  translated  to  Ilf,  "She  says  she  loves  you." 

"But,  Alex,"  said  Ilf,  "are  American  women  usually  so  forward? 
What  can  I  tell  her?" 

"He  cannot  discuss  literature,"  Alex  interpreted,  "with  such  a 
beautiful  girl.  He'd  much  rather  make  love  to  you." 

"Now,  Alex,  stop  kidding,"  the  girl  said. 

"She  declares  she  wants  to  sleep  with  you,"  Alex  said  in  Russian  to 
Ilf. 

Ilf  blushed. 

By  now  the  girl  understood  that  Alex  was  up  to  some  mischief 
and  turned  to  Ilf  and  said,  "Don't  listen  to  him;  he's  pulling  your 
leg,"  and  she  tugged  at  Ilf's  trousers. 

"You  see,"  Alex  said  in  Russian  to  Ilf,  "she  wants  you  to  take  your 
pants  off." 

Somebody  had  again  opened  the  window  and  the  laughter  mixed 
with  noise  of  guns  near-by.  Koltzov  wanted  to  know  what  was  hap- 
pening and  called  me  to  go  with  him  to  the  War  Ministry.  We 
learned  that  the  Moors  had  advanced  in  the  University  City  but 
were  now  being  held. 

Next  morning  I  went  to  General  Goriev's  apartment  in  the  Min- 
istry of  War.  He  had  just  returned  from  a  night's  auto  trip  and  was 
bathing.  He  came  out  brushing  his  hair.  Then  he  put  a  net  over  his 
hair  to  keep  it  flat,  and  ordered  a  light  breakfast.  After  breakfast,  he 
lit  his  pipe,  leaned  back,  and  talked.  He  might  have  been  an  English- 
man on  a  country  estate.  He  had  organized  the  defense  of  Madrid. 
More  than  any  one  man  he  was  the  savior  of  Madrid.  (He,  was  shot 
in  the  big  Moscow  purge.) 

"Madrid  will  not  be  taken,"  he  assured  me.  "It  can  never  be  taken. 
It  can  only  be  surrendered.  And  there  is  no  mood  of  surrender." 

He  showed  me  the  situation  on  the  map. 


I  ENLIST  399 

A  Russian  entered  who  called  himself  Lori,  Charles  Loti.  He  spoke 
a  perfect  French  but  he  was  a  Russian  Jew  named  Rosenf eld.  I  with- 
drew while  he  consulted  Goriev,  and  then  he  invited  me  to  go  to  the 
Madrid  front  with  him.  En  route,  we  stopped  at  several  houses  con- 
verted into  military  staff  headquarters.  The  city  had  been  divided 
into  wards  and  each  ward  had  its  military  command.  Loti  collected 
data  from  the  commanders,  listened  to  their  complaints  about  the 
shortage  of  arms,  and  explained  the  general  military  position.  Later 
he  measured  the  depth  of  the  trenches  and  found  them  too  shallow. 

"What  is  your  job  here?"  I  asked  him. 

"I  am  the  second  assistant  of  our  commercial  representative  in 
Spain,"  he  laughed.  That  was  his  official  rank. 

We  drove  through  the  Arguelles  quarter  towards  the  Casa  de 
Campo  front  just  outside  the  city  limits.  It  was  Sunday,  December  6. 
Down  one  street  people  were  running  fast.  The  street  emptied.  Air- 
plane motors  roared  overhead.  Crash!  A  five-story  building  in  front 
of  us  fell  into  itself  like  a  pile  of  wooden  blocks.  We  turned  a  corner. 
Another  deafening  bang.  The  air  filled  with  brick  and  mortar  dust 
which  settled  in  one's  throat.  We  were  in  the  midst  of  a  serious  air 
raid.  The  driver  stopped  the  car  and  we  rushed  into  the  vestibule 
of  an  apartment  house.  A  bomb  whistled  near-by.  It  made  my  spine 
cold.  I  tried  to  force  open  a  door  which  might  lead  to  the  cellar,  but 
a  column  of  air  struck  behind  the  door  and  made  me  recoil.  A  bomb 
had  just  fallen  into  the  next  house  but  one.  Another  bomb  fell  and 
from  the  thud  it  was  clear  that  it  had  struck  the  street  pavement  out- 
side. We  crouched  in  the  vestibule  and  heard  parts  of  the  paving  hit 
the  walls  of  the  house  in  which  we  had  taken  refuge.  A  granite  block 
came  hurtling  over  the  four-story  roof  and  fell  in  the  small  court- 
yard to  which  the  vestibule  led.  Half  the  block  was  blackened  by  the 
explosion.  A  woman  in  the  vestibule  said,  "Barbarians." 

A  woman  peeped  out  of  a  door  which  opened  on  the  courtyard 
and  motioned  us  to  come  into  her  apartment.  We  dashed  diagonally 
across  the  court.  She  had  two  dark  rooms.  She  was  calm,  at  least  as 
far  as  one  could  notice,  but  her  younger  sister  was  hysterical  and 
screamed  as  each  bomb  struck. 

The  raid  finally  ceased  and  we  returned  to  our  car.  A  veil  of  dust 
still  hung  over  the  street.  A  military  motorcyclist  came  up  and  com- 
mandeered our  car  for  the  wounded.  I  walked  about.  Automobiles 
were  speeding  away  with  the  wounded  who  were  propped  up  in  the 
seats,  or  laid  on  the  bottom  of  the  car.  I  saw  some  who  had  lost  limbs 


400      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

or  parts  of  their  faces  and  were  bleeding  profusely.  When  our  car 
returned,  the  interior  was  covered  with  blood. 

Women,  old  men,  and  little  children  started  creeping  out  from  the 
bombed  homes.  Everybody  was  white.  Hair  and  faces  powdered  with 
white  dust  from  ceilings  that  had  collapsed  on  them.  A  girl  of  thirteen 
had  saved  a  canary  in  its  cage.  In  her  other  arm  she  carried  a  bottle 
of  milk.  A  woman  held  a  nursing  baby.  The  baby  howled  and  the 
mother  howled.  The  mother  had  lost  control.  The  mother's  dress 
was  whitened  except  for  the  black  border  where  she  held  the  child. 
A  wrinkled  old  woman  wrapped  in  a  blanket  cried.  Her  face  muscles 
trembled. 

"Where  shall  I  go?"  she  asked  me. 

I  put  my  arm  into  hers  and  we  joined  the  stream  of  humanity  that 
was  moving  toward  the  street-car  line.  We  passed  women  in  black 
standing  at  the  entrances  of  houses.  They  wrung  their  hands  and 
swayed  from  their  waists  in  a  rhythm  of  despair.  Later  the  same  thing 
happened  to  Warsaw,  Rotterdam,  London,  Coventry,  Berlin,  Ham- 
burg, and  Haifa, 

That  day  I  cabled  The  Nation  an  article  describing  the  bombing. 
"From  outside  comes  no  help,"  I  exclaimed.  "Where  is  the  world 
which  answered  the  call  of  Belgium?  Where  is  the  humanitarian 
heart  of  the  millions  who  go  to  church  and  pray  to  God,  or  of  the 
millions  who  call  themselves  idealists  yet  go  about  their  business  sign- 
ing letters,  having  manicures,  seeing  cinemas,  while  a  city  of  culture 
and  beauty  is  ground  into  dust?" 

Where? 

Where?  Waiting  at  home  until  bombs  of  the  same  manufacture 
and  dropped  by  the  same  Luftwaffe  would  come  to  them. 

My  work  in  the  International  Brigade  slowly  acquired  system. 
It  was  difficult  to  achieve  complete  order  because  of  the  necessary 
irregularity  of  the  demands  made  on  the  quartermaster's  office.  Late 
in  the  evening,  news  would  come  that  500  men  were  arriving  in  the 
morning  and  had  to  be  fully  equipped.  Or  a  hospital  would  send 
word  that  it  had  a  hundred  wounded  members  of  the  Brigade  who 
had  lost  all  their  clothing.  I  had  to  supply  our  cantonments  in  villages 
within  a  circle  of  some  thirty  miles  from  Albacete— Madrigueras, 
Chinchilla  de  Monte  Aragon  where  we  had  artillery  training  under 
a  Czech  captain  named  Miksche,  a  completely  non-political  friend 
of  freedom,  La  Roda,  Mahora,  and  other  places.  My  principle  of 


I  ENLIST  401 

organization  was  that  the  more  work  I  delegated  to  others  the  better 
the  work  would  progress.  I  had  no  pride  about  doing  it  all  myself 
and  getting  credit.  One  of  my  assistants  in  charge  of  the  stores  in 
the  former  Bank  of  Spain  building  was  a  Pole  of  about  forty-five 
named  Wolf.  He  labored  hard  and  well.  One  morning  he  disap- 
peared. My  suspicions  induced  me  to  ask  Marty,  and  Marty  replied 
fiercely  that  he  knew  nothing.  But  I  later  learned  the  facts.  In  the 
middle  of  the  night,  three  Polish  comrades  entered  Wolfs  room  and 
instructed  him  to  dress  and  come  with  them.  First  he  refused  but 
they  told  him  he  had  to  obey,  and  he  understood.  They  had  revolvers 
on  their  hips.  He  was  arrested  for  "Trotzkyism."  Marty  had  given 
the  order.  Four  others  were  arrested  that  night. 

My  relations  with  Marty  deteriorated  steadily.  I  once  said  to  him, 
"Listen,  you  are  not  a  dictator  nor  am  I  a  child."  But  he  thought  he 
was  a  Stalin.  He  knew  I  had  had  a  friendly  visit  at  the  front  with 
General  Kleber.  Marty  and  Kleber  were  at  daggers  drawn. 

I  sometimes  dined  at  the  Grand  Hotel  with  Soviet  army  officers. 
That  did  not  suit  Marty.  One  morning  the  Order  of  the  Day  con- 
tained a  reprimand  for  me.  I  had  "neglected  duty"  the  previous  eve- 
ning. The  Frenchmen  at  the  bull-ring  mess  complained  that  the  meat 
in  die  evening  stew  was  hard  and  I  could  not  be  found  to  receive 
their  complaint. 

A  few  days  later,  Marty  returned  from  a  trip  to  Valencia.  He  was 
cordial  and  warm  when  he  met  me,  and  called  me  into  his  office,  and 
said,  "I  talked  to  some  of  your  friends  in  Valencia.  They  feel  it  is 
such  a  pity  for  you  to  waste  your  time  with  kitchen  problems  and 
clothing  distribution  when  you  could  be  doing  far  more  important 
things." 

I  saw  the  point. 

In  forty-eight  hours  I  had  handed  over  the  job  to  my  successor. 
But  I  continued  to  be  interested  in  the  International  Brigade  and  did 
everything  I  could  to  augment  its  strength  and  make  its  members 
comfortable. 


23.  The  First  Battle  of  the  Second  World  War 

SADLY,  I  bade  farewell  to  the  International  Brigade  and  to  my 
shirts,  spoons,  and  blankets  and  returned  to  my  trade,  jour- 
nalism. 

I  decided  to  go  to  Geneva.  Foreign  Minister  Alvarez  del  Vayo  had 
already  left  Valencia  for  Switzerland  to  place  the  Loyalist  case  before 
the  League  of  Nations  and  plead  for  the  scrapping  of  Non-interven- 
tion which  had  quickly  acquired  quotation  marks. 

I  had  spent  three  months  in  Spain.  Nothing  else  had  existed  for  me. 
A  nation  fought  for  its  life  and  millions  of  its  citizens  for  their  lives. 
England  and  France  looked  on  passively  while  Germany  and  Italy 
attacked  a  democracy.  The  League  had  put  Spain  on  the  Council's 
agenda.  History  would  be  made.  There  would  be  tremendous  doings, 
intense  curiosity.  Everybody  would  be  interested  in  Spain. 

I  rushed  from  my  hotel  in  Geneva  to  the  League  Council  meeting. 
Correspondents  stood  in  small  groups  and  diplomats  stood  in  small 
groups.  Occasionally,  diplomats  and  correspondents  stood  in  the  same 
small  groups.  I  approached  one  group  where  I  saw  an  acquaintance. 
They  were  talking  about  "Wallis."  Who  was  that?  I  asked.  Some- 
body said,  "Mrs.  Simpson."  I  moved  to  another  group.  "When  is 
the  broadcast?"  "Will  he  abdicate?"  Nobody  mentioned  Spain. 
Nobody  cared  about  Madrid.  Everybody  was  in  Buckingham  Pal- 


ace. 


Late  that  afternoon,  December  12,  1936,  at  the  home  of  Ludwik 
Rajchman,  chief  of  the  League  of  Nations  health  department,  I  heard 
King  Edward  the  Eighth's  abdication  address:  "The  woman  I  love." 
It  was  unique  and  impressive.  But  he  was  pro-Franco,  and  was  he 
a  Fascist?  Rumor  had  it  that  he  sympathized  with  Hitler  and  that 
through  Mrs.  Simpson  Ribbentrop  influenced  British  policy.  Such 
things  were  going  on  in  France.  Why  not  in  England? 

Geneva  did  not  hear  the  bombs  bursting  in  the  air  of  Spain.  I  felt 
lonely  and  cold.  Switzerland  seemed  so  quiet  and  clean  and  abnormal. 
Spain  had  become  normal  for  me.  Some  friends  in  Geneva  lived  with 
Spain  as  I  did.  Their  society  comforted  me.  But  they  were  the  intel- 

402 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR    403 

lectual  elite,  the  League  patriots,  the  internationalists,  the  anti- 
appeasers. 

I  attended  the  session  in  the  marble  conference  hall  of  the  League. 
At  a  long,  crescent  table  sat  the  delegates  to  the  League.  But  between 
them  sat  the  black  women  of  Madrid.  Behind  Delbos  I  saw  Malraux's 
nervous  face  and  cigarette.  When  Viscount  Cranborne  spoke  for 
England  he  read  from  a  paper.  After  del  Vayo  spoke,  Delbos  an- 
swered from  a  paper  prepared  before  he  had  heard  del  Vayo's  ad- 
dress. A  secretary  in  the  cool  of  the  Quai  d'Orsay  was  answering 
a  million  voices  that  rang  in  del  Vayo's  appeal.  I  wanted  to  do  more 
for  Spain,  to  devote  all  my  time  and  energy  to  Spain. 

Before  going  to  America  on  a  lecture  tour,  where  I  hoped  I  could 
make  appeals  for  funds  for  Spanish  relief  and  urge  men  to  volunteer 
for  the  International  Brigade,  I  went  to  see  my  family  in  Moscow. 
Moscow  was  not  Geneva.  Moscow  lived  in  Spain.  Everybody  talked 
Spain.  My  boys  asked  me  to  come  to  their  schools  and  give  little 
speeches  on  Spain.  At  least  eight  Soviet  friends  asked  me  how  they 
could  go  and  fight  in  Spain.  The  director  of  a  museum  came  to  see 
me  and  inquired  whether  I  had  any  posters  or  documents  relating 
to  the  Spanish  War.  The  apartment  was  filled  with  people  all  the  time, 
and  no  one  let  me  ask  questions  about  Russia.  "Spain  is  more  impor- 
tant," they  said.  "If  we  win  in  Spain  we  will  be  happy  here."  The 
newspapers  were  filled  with  endless  articles  and  reports  on  the  Span- 
ish situation.  An  American  friend,  Bob  Merriman,  my  tennis  partner 
of  former  years,  phoned  to  find  out  how  he  could  get  to  Spain.  He 
had  been  an  instructor  in  economics  at  the  University  of  California, 
a  smiling,  shy,  tall  person,  always  eager  to  assure  me,  when  he  de- 
feated me  on  the  courts,  that  I  really  played  better  than  he  did.  (He 
later  became  the  commander  of  the  American  volunteers  in  the  Inter- 
national Brigade  and  was  killed  in  action.)  Spain  was  stirring  Russia 
as  no  Soviet  issue  in  recent  years  had  stirred  it.  I  never  believed  that 
the  Kremlin  could  succeed  in  converting  Soviet  citizens  to  old-style 
narrow  nationalism.  Russians  understood  Spain,  a  poor  country  whose 
progress  was  obstructed  by  a  backward  class.  The  Spanish  civil  war 
was  like  the  Soviet  civil  war,  reactionaries  fighting  the  people  and 
foreign  powers  aiding  the  reactionaries  while  nobody  helped  the 
people. 

Communist  friends  in  Spain  had  urged  me  to  see  Dimitrov  in  Mos- 
cow and  give  him  my  impressions  of  the  Spanish  situation.  I  had  first 


404      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

met  Dimitrov  in  Russia  in  1935.  John  Gunther,  collecting  material 
for  Inside  Europe,  wanted  to  interview  him  and  we  went  together  to 
the  sanatorium  where  Dimitrov  was  recuperating  from  his  experi- 
ences in  Nazi  prisons.  Dimitrov  was  now  head  of  the  Third  Inter- 
national. Gunther  told  him  that  he  had  covered  the  Leipzig  trial  and 
Dimitrov  said,  "I  remember  your  face.  I  watched  you  from  the 
prisoners'  box.  The  sympathy  on  the  faces  of  the  foreign  corre- 
spondents was  encouraging."  That  trial  made  history.  Dimitrov  had 
long  been  held  in  jail  by  the  Nazis  on  the  charge  of  setting  fire  to  the 
Reichstag  in  the  early  days  of  the  Fascist  regime.  His  captors  had 
put  him  in  chains.  He  was  asthmatic  and  suffered  torture  from  con- 
finement. At  the  trial,  however,  his  robust  figure,  leonine  head  with 
black  hair,  and  free,  frank  face  spoke  defiance.  Dimitrov's  testimony 
drove  his  prosecutors  into  a  rage.  He  attacked  the  Nazi  regime  and 
analyzed  its  anti-proletarian,  war-making  character.  He  interpolated 
remarks  that  upset  the  case  they  were  building  up.  He  charged  that 
the  whole  trial  was  a  farcical  frame-up.  Hermann  Goering  himself 
took  the  witness  stand.  Dimitrov,  the  prisoner,  the  man  at  the  mercy 
of  the  Nazis,  was  calm.  But  Goering  lost  his  temper  and  threatened 
Dimitrov.  Turning  the  tables,  Dimitrov  accused  Goering  of  burning 
the  Reichstag  and  using  the  miserable,  doped  van  der  Lubbe  as  a  foil. 
Goering's  intemperance  left  the  world  with  the  distinct  impression 
that  Dimitrov's  thrust  had  struck  home.  Reports  of  the  trial  filled  the 
world  press  for  weeks. 

The  Hitler  government  did  not  dare  sentence  Dimitrov  to  death. 
British  officials  urged  Berlin  to  release  this  prominent  Bulgarian  Com- 
munist. The  Nazis  freed  him  and  allowed  him  to  fly  to  Moscow. 

I  went  out  to  Dimitrov's  log-cabin  country  home  on  the  outskirts 
of  Moscow.  He  was  in  a  suit  of  bad  Soviet  blue  serge  with  a  jacket 
that  buttoned  up  to  the  neck.  There  was  something  heroic  and  his- 
toric about  him,  a  man  made  of  one  piece.  I  had  the  same  feeling 
when  I  met  Winston  Churchill.  But  since  Dimitrov  is  simpler  than 
Churchill,  the  impression  of  unity  is  greater.  Dimitrov  is  die  old-type 
Balkan  peasant-revolutionist  equipped  with  a  modern  weapon— organ- 
ized Communism.  He  is,  above  all,  a  fighter,  and  Moscow  ruined  his 
personality  by  making  the  Third  International  a  rubber  stamp. 

We  talked  for  several  hours.  He  asked  about  numerous  Spaniards 
and  foreigners  in  Spain,  particularly  about  Marty  and  Kleber.  Obvi- 
ously, reports  of  the  Marty-Kleber  feud  were  on  his  desk.  (Very 
soon,  Kleber  was  recalled  from  Spain,  and  then,  as  often  happens, 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR    405 

Marty  was  recalled  too.  Later  Marty  returned.  But  Kleber  did  not. 
There  was  a  rumor  that  he  had  been  shot  in  Moscow.) 

Dimitrov  said  the  anti-militarism  of  foreign  Communists  had  kept 
them  out  of  armies,  navies,  national  guards,  and  officers'  training 
corps.  They  therefore  had  too  few  people  to  draw  on  for  the  Inter- 
national Brigade.  The  countries  with  conscription  were  an  exception, 
he  added.  That  is  why,  apart  from  geography,  the  French  constituted 
the  bulk  of  the  Brigade.  He  hoped  America  would  send  many  thou- 
sands of  volunteers.  He  hoped  there  would  be  more  non-Communists 
than  Communists,  and  he  stressed  the  political  wisdom  of  the  enlist- 
ment of  American  socialists,  liberals,  and  Jewish  nationalists.  "We 
can  then  build  the  American  Popular  Front  on  the  Spanish  battle- 
field," he  said. 

In  practice  that  proved  difficult.  American  Communists  and  for- 
eign Communists  in  America  were  none  too  anxious  to  have  socialists, 
who  might  be  Trotzkyists,  in  the  International  Brigade.  And  the 
socialists  had  very  few  men  for  enlistment  anyway  because  their 
organizations  were  so  weak. 

I  went  to  see  Maxim  Litvinov,  Commissar  for  Foreign  Affairs.  He 
wore  the  same  kind  of  blue  serge  suit  as  Dimitrov.  Apparently,  a 
Soviet  factory  had  turned  out  a  first  order.  Litvinov  looked  de- 
pressed. He  is  the  buoyant,  energetic,  positive  type  of  person.  Now 
he  seemed  pessimistic.  The  purge  was  beginning  to  creep  towards 
his  commissariat. 

Litvinov  put  an  endless  chain  of  questions  to  me  about  the  morale 
of  the  Loyalist  soldiers  and  civilians,  the  material  damage  from  bomb- 
ings, the  behavior  of  individual  Russians  in  Spain,  the  quality  of  Span- 
ish leaders.  Finally,  he  asked  me  whether  I  had  seen  Uritzky  in  Mos- 
cow. I  said,  "Who  is  he?"  Litvinov  replied,  "He's  an  interesting  per- 
son," and  offered  to  fix  an  appointment  for  me  with  him. 

The  next  day  Boris  Mironov  of  the  Foreign  Office  press  depart- 
ment phoned  and  told  me  he  would  take  me  to  see  Uritzky.  We 
drove  to  the  Soviet  War  Commissariat.  From  his  office  and  his  per- 
sonality I  concluded  that  Uritzky  did  not  merely  hold  general's  rank 
— the  four  diamond-shaped  tabs  on  his  collar  showed  that— but  was 
one  of  the  top  chiefs  of  the  Commissariat.  I  learned  later  that  all 
Soviet  military  affairs  in  Spain,  including  the  shipping  of  materials 
and  men,  were  directly  ki  his  charge. 

Uritzky  too  asked  questions.  He  began  with  the  International  Bri- 
gade. After  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed,  he  asked  me 


406      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

whether  I  would  mind  if  a  stenographer  took  notes,  and  he  sum- 
moned a  stenographer  and  begged  me  to  repeat  everything  I  had  said. 
Then  the  questioning  continued.  Uritzky  intimated  that  he  wanted 
the  stenographic  record  for  his  superiors.  The  interview  lasted  three 
hours,  broken  only  by  glasses  of  tea  and  cake. 

I  did  most  of  the  giving  in  this  meeting.  But  I  learned  from  his 
questions.  And  he  also  answered  some  of  mine.  When  he  asked,  for 
instance,  whether  the  International  Brigade  could  furnish  tank  drivers 
and  mechanics  and  whether  the  Spaniards  would  make  good  tank 
drivers  I  deduced  that  the  Soviet  government  intended  sending  more 
material  and  few  men.  I  said  that  the  Spaniards  were  naturally  good 
mechanics  and  that  many  of  the  foreigners  could  drive  automobiles 
and  trucks.  "But,"  I  added,  "everything  depends  on  how  much  equip- 
ment you  send."  To  which  he  replied  that  transportation  presented 
the  chief  problem.  The  Italians,  he  declared,  had  their  spies  at  Con- 
stantinople and  watched  every  ship  that  came  out  of  the  Black  Sea. 
Moscow  had  a  big  bureau  which  did  nothing  else  but  devise  means 
of  disguising  war  munitions  and  the  vessels  that  carried  them.  They 
sometimes  rebuilt  freighters,  giving  them  a  false  deck,  and  placed 
arms  between  the  two  decks.  Tanks  were  immersed  in  the  oil  of 
tankers,  and  so  on.  But  airplanes  could  scarcely  be  hidden.  I  won- 
dered whether  big  bombers  might  not  fly  from  the  nearest  Soviet 
point  to  the  nearest  Loyalist  airfield.  He  said  it  was  physically  im- 
possible. Nor  could  they  land  in  Czechoslovakia.  The  Czechs  would 
not  allow  it  for  fear  of  antagonizing  Germany.  No  Soviet  airplanes 
flew  from  Russia  to  Spain  at  any  time  during  the  Spanish  War. 
Uritzky  explained  that  if  a  Soviet  machine  made  one  forced  landing 
anywhere  in  Europe  the  whole  world  would  squeal  and  "Litvinov 
wouldn't  like  that."  This  made  it  clear  to  me  that  Soviet  aid  to  the 
Loyalists  would  remain  within  the  limited  legal-illegal  bounds  of 
Non-intervention.  There  would  be  subterfuge  and  lying  and  there- 
fore delays  and  scarcity  of  supplies.  Moscow  apparently  would  not 
go  "all  out  on  Spain."  On  December  14,  1936,  the  Soviet  S.S. 
Komsomol,  carrying  munitions  to  Spain,  had  been  set  on  fire  and 
sunk  in  the  Mediterranean  by  the  Italian  navy.  Moscow  was  deterred. 
Russian  aid  to  Spain  depended  on  Anglo-French  co-operation  in  the 
Mediterranean  or  transit  overland  through  France. 

I  told  Uritzky  the  Loyalists  needed  submarines  and  other  craft 
to  protect  the  coast  against  the  Italian  and  German  navies  and  to 
convoy  ships.  He  said,  "We  have  already  sent  four  submarines  and 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR    407 

we  have  ten  more  for  shipment.  But  the  Spanish  leaders  must  under- 
stand that  we  can  only  give  them  supplies  if  they  ask  for  them.  Even 
in  the  case  of  Outer  Mongolia  we  do  not  take  the  initiative  and 
suggest  that  it  buy  arms.  It  orders  them  on  its  own.  You  might  ex- 
plain in  Valencia  that  they  must  be  more  aggressive  with  us/' 

Uritzky  inquired  about  Cisneros,  the  commander  of  the  Loyalist 
air  force  who  necessarily  co-operated  closely  with  the  Russian  air 
fleet  in  Spain.  We  talked  about  him  for  a  while,  and  then  he  said  that 
Luli  Cisneros  lived  in  his  family  with  another  Spanish  girl,  Charito. 
"Since  I  became  their  guardian,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  the  most  un- 
popular man  in  the  Soviet  Union." 

"Why?"  I  asked  in  astonishment. 

Uritzky  told  me  that  all  his  colleagues  complained;  he  had  taken 
unfair  advantage  of  his  position  to  get  Spanish  children.  Why 
couldn't  they  get  Spanish  children?  And  why  should  he  have  two? 

Uritzky  explained  to  them  that  one  girl  of  eleven  who  didn't  speak 
Russian  would  be  unhappy  alone  and  so  Luli  and  Charito  stayed  to- 
gether with  him.  But  that  satisfied  nobody.  "I'll  take  .three,"  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Red  Army  general  staff  assured  him.  He  said  he  would 
never  have  peace  until  he  could  distribute  a  big  contingent  of  Spanish 
children  among  his  friends. 

I  told  Uritzky  that  I  had  to  visit  Luli  because  I  was  going  back  to 
Valencia  where  I  would  see  her  parents,  Constancia  de  la  Mora  and 
her  husband,  Ignacio  Hidalgo  de  Cisneros.  I  was  leaving  Moscow  to 
go  abroad  on  January  i,  and  since  most  Russians  celebrate  New 
Year's  Eve  very  late,  we  agreed  to  meet  at  noon  on  the  first  with  all 
members  of  our  families  at  the  Red  Army  rest  home  outside  Moscow 
where  the  Uritzkys  were  spending  the  holiday  week. 

A  car  fetched  us  and  took  us  out  through  beautiful  snow-carpeted 
woods  to  the  rest  house.  Luli  and  Charito  were  out  in  the  woods. 
I  saw  them  coming  home  across  the  snow,  little  Spanish  girls  in  fur 
caps  and  squirrel  coats  that  reached  down  to  their  heels.  Charito  was 
smaller  than  Luli  but  older.  Her  father  had  been  killed  in  a  dog  fight 
with  a  Franco  pilot  but  she  did  not  know  it.  They  seemed  happy 
and  fatter  than  most  Spanish  children  I  had  seen  in  recent  months. 
Charito  refused  to  sing  or  dance  though  she  reportedly  did  both  well, 
and  I  did  not  blame  her.  Uritzky's  wife  prepared  tea  for  her  family 
and  mine  (in  Russia  any  time  is  tea  time),  while  he  beat  me  easily  at 
billiards,  and  then  we  all  sat  around  a  huge  table  laden  with  pastries 
and  sandwiches.  Before  long  we  were  the  center  of  attraction  for 


408      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

uniformed  and  non-uniformed  men  and  women  at  other  tables,  who 
were  obviously  very  fond  of  the  little  girls.  When  the  crowd  was 
big  enough  Luli  and  Charito  discreetly  slipped  away  to  their  rooms. 
Such  affairs  rarely  interest  children. 

That  morning's  Moscow  newspapers  had  carried  a  list  of  seventeen 
Red  Army  men  who  were  created  "Heroes  of  the  Soviet  Union," 
the  Soviet  govenment's  highest  distinction,  for  "exemplary  fulfill- 
ment of  special  and  difficult  government  tasks  with  a  view  to 
strengthening  the  military  might  of  the  Soviet  Union  and  the  display 
of  heroism  in  their  performance."  No.  4  on  the  list  was  Sergei 
Tarkhov. 

I  mentioned  the  honor  list  and  said  to  Uritzky,  "I  knew  Tarkhov. 
He  died  in  Madrid."  Uritzky  drew  in  his  lips  and  nodded.  I  inquired 
whether  he  knew  the  circumstances  of  Tarkhov's  end,  and  he  urged 
me  to  recount  them. 

It  was  in  November,  1936.  I  arrived  one  day  in  Madrid  from 
Albacete  and  went  to  the  Palace  Hotel  to  look  for  Russian  friends 
who  had  lived  there.  I  peered  into  several  rooms  of  the  second  floor 
and  found  them  all  occupied  by  wounded  soldiers.  A  nurse  in  white 
stuck  her  head  out  of  a  door  and  asked  whether  she  could  help  me. 
I  said  I  was  looking  for  some  Russian  comrades. 

"Russian  comrades,"  she  burst  forth.  "There  is  one  here.  Please 


come  in." 


A  man  was  lying  in  bed  and  mumbling— just  coming  out  of  ether. 
"Russian  aviator,"  the  nurse  said.  "Three  shots  in  the  stomach."  She 
wanted  me  to  return  because  she  expected  to  have  trouble  making 
herself  understood  to  him. 

I  came  back  in  the  afternoon.  I  greeted  him  in  Russian,  and  his 
first  question  was,  "What  is  the  situation  at  the  front?"  I  assured  him 
without  regard  to  realities  that  it  was  all  right. 

"Very  bad  time  for  me  to  have  been  knocked  out,  eh?" 

**You'll  be  back  soon,"  I  promised.  He  smiled  feebly.  I  could  see 
he  had  a  powerful  build,  broad  neck,  round  head,  big  chest.  "Tell 
him,"  the  nurse  begged,  "he  must  wear  his  pajama  coat."  He  com- 
plained that  he  had  never  been  able  to  get  accustomed  to  pajamas. 
The  nurse  sat  on  his  bed  and  fondled  his  hair.  "Very  strong  man," 
she  said. 

That  evening  I  asked  a  Russian  officer  about  the  wounded  pilot. 
He  told  me  the  story.  The  pilot  was  in  an  attack  plane  over  the  out- 
skirts of  Madrid  when  his  motor  went  dead  and  he  bailed  out.  He 


THE  FIRST  BATTUE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR   409 

declared  that  when  he  jumped  he  was  unwounded.  But  as  he  floated 
downward,  helpless  in  his  parachute,  he  was  hit  in  the  stomach  by 
shots  from  the  ground.  When  he  reached  the  ground  he  was  cap- 
tured, beaten,  and  forced  to  walk  a  long  distance.  His  captors  de- 
livered him  to  a  big  building.  This  was  the  Loyalist  War  Ministry 
but  he  did  not  know  it.  His  captors  were  Loyalists  and  they  had 
fired  at  him  while  he  dangled  in  the  air.  When  he  came  down  they 
addressed  him  in  Spanish  and  since  he  failed  to  open  his  mouth  they 
assumed  he  was  German. 

Inside  the  Ministry,  officers  interrogated  him.  Dazed,  and  in  ex- 
cruciating pain,  he  remembered  the  instructions  he  had  received  in 
Moscow,  "Don't  talk."  Russians  came  in  and  swore  at  him.  But  there 
were  two  kinds  of  Russians;  Soviet  Russians  and  Whites,  and  Franco 
was  reputed  to  have  White  Russians.  Tarkhov  kept  his  mouth  tightly 
shut  except  for  occasional  moans.  At  this  moment,  the  chief  of  the 
Soviet  air  squadrons  in  Spain  entered  the  room,  and  seeing  the 
wounded  man,  shouted,  "Tarkhov,  thou!" 

He  was  immediately  taken  to  the  Palace  hospital  and  operated  on. 
The  same  evening  the  Loyalist  government  published  a  sharply 
worded  decree  cautioning  soldiers  and  home  guards  against  shooting 
or  attacking  parachutists. 

I  visited  Tarkhov  again  the  next  day.  "You  must  impress  on  him," 
the  nurse  expostulated,  "that  he  is  not  permitted  to  get  up  in  the 
night."  He  had  risen  to  go  to  the  lavatory.  Only  a  Russian  giant 
could  have  mustered  the  strength.  I  told  him  not  to  do  it  again,  and 
he  said,  "If  I  lie  here  motionless  too  long  my  muscles  will  get  weak 
and  then  I  won't  be  able  to  return  to  my  squadron  so  soon." 

The  way  the  nurse  talked  about  him  it  was  clear  that  she  had  fallen 
in  love  with  him.  "I  have  promised  to  go  with  him  to  Russia,"  she 
told  me,  and  she  obviously  meant  it  and  hoped  he  would  take  her. 
She  showed  me  his  clinical  chart.  The  fever  curve  was  mounting.  He 
asked  me  what  it  said  and  I  assured  him  that  he  would  soon  be  well. 

The  next  day  he  died. 

"Let's  play  billiards,"  Uritzky  exclaimed.  There  were  tears  in  his 

eyes. 

He  beat  me  again.  I  had  to  go  and  prepare  for  my  departure.  As 
we  shook  hands  near  the  door  he  put  his  left  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  kissed  me  on  the  lips.  The  kiss  was  for  Spain.  (Uritzky  disap- 
peared in  the  big  purge-) 


410      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

During  my  Moscow  stay,  everybody,  including  Markoosha,  dis- 
played a  reluctance  to  discuss  Soviet  conditions.  Markoosha  finally 
relented.  The  new  Constitution  still  filled  many  hearts  with  hope, 
she  said.  One  hundred  and  fifty-four  thousand  proposals  for  amend- 
ment and  improvement  of  its  text  had  been  submitted  by  individual 
citizens.  At  the  Congress  where  Stalin,  on  November  25,  1936, 
presented  the  Constitution  for  adoption,  the  delegates  were  better 
dressed  than  ever  before.  Each  article  of  the  Constitution  was  read 
separately  and  received  wild  applause— except  Article  124  which  was 
received  in  silence.  It  grants  freedom  of  religious  worship.  All 
speeches  at  the  Congress  were  filled  with  attacks  on  Fascism.  N.  N. 
Liubchenko,  chief  of  the  Ukrainian  delegation  said,  "Just  as  a  pjg 
can  never  look  at  the  sky  so  Hitler  will  never  see  our  cabbage 
patch.'*  Litvinov  condemned  the  anti-Comintern  triangle  pact. 

Nevertheless,  Markoosha  said,  the  air  was  full  of  foreboding.  The 
Zinoviev-Kamenev  trial  had  come  and  gone,  and  now  a  second  big 
trial  of  leading  Bolsheviks  was  being  bruited.  It  would  involve  Piata- 
kov,  leader  of  Soviet  industry,  Karl  Radek,  publicist,  Gregory  Sokol- 
nikov,  former  Finance  Commissar  and  Ambassador  to  London,  L.  P. 
Serebyakov,  an  old  co-worker  of  Lenin's,  and  others. 

Zinoviev  had  been  cordially  disliked  even  by  many  Communists. 
Kamenev  was  highly  respected.  They  had  constituted,  with  Stalin, 
the  triumvirate  which  took  over  control  when  Lenin  died.  They  had 
had  their  doubts  about  the  wisdom  of  making  a  revolution  in  1917, 
and  Lenin  flayed  them  mercilessly.  But  after  that  Lenin  worked  with 
them,  and  so  did  Stalin. 

When  they  joined  forces  with  Trotzky  in  1926,  Stalin  sent 
Kamenev  as  ambassador  to  Rome,  and  Zinoviev  was  removed  from 
Leningrad.  First  step.  In  January,  1928,  they  were  exiled  to  Siberia. 
Second  step.  In  June,  1928,  after  proper  recantations,  they  were 
brought  back  to  Moscow.  Kamenev  worked  in  a  publishing  house 
and  Zinoviev  held  a  minor  job  in  the  co-operative  movement.  Both 
wrote  nauseatingly  pro-Stalin  articles  in  the  press.  When  Kirov  was 
assassinated  in  1934,  they  were  sentenced  to  a  ten-year  exile.  Third 
step.  On  August  14,  1936,  they  sat  on  the  stage  in  the  Moscow  Hall 
of  Nobles  on  trial  for  their  lives.  On  August  24,  they  were  sentenced 
to  death.  Fourth  and  last  step. 

They  and  others  were  accused  of  plotting  to  assassinate  Stalin, 
Voroshilov,  Ordjonekidze,  Kaganovitch,  Postishev,  Kossior,  Zhda- 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR   411 

nov,  and  others.  They  plotted  with  several  German  Communists,  it 
was  charged. 

Fritz  David,  a  German  Communist  on  trial,  confessed  that  on  in- 
structions from  Trotzky,  he  had  come  to  Moscow  to  shoot  Stalin. 
Moses  Luria,  another  German  Communist,  confessed  that  with  the 
help  of  the  Nazi  Gestapo  he  had  planned  to  kill  Voroshilov.  Yevdoki- 
mov,  another  defendant,  former  President  of  the  Leningrad  Soviet, 
described  how  the  defendants  had  vied  with  one  another  for  "the 
honor"  of  assassinating  Stalin.  Zinoviev  admitted  to  being  a  Fascist. 
"Trotzkyism  plus  terrorism  is  Fascism,"  he  affirmed. 

Prosecutor  Vishinsky  demanded  the  death  sentence  for  all  of  them. 
"The  mad  dogs  must  be  shot,"  he  shouted.  But  this  was  mild  com- 
pared to  the  self-denunciations  of  the  defendants  themselves.  They 
dramatically  proclaimed  their  guilt,  and  if  one  of  their  number 
seemed  to  insist  on  his  own  execution  with  too  little  passion  his  com- 
rade-defendants fell  upon  him  wrathf ully.  The  death  sentences  were 
announced  in  their  presence  at  three  in  the  morning.  Kamenev  rose 
and  appealed  to  his  three  sons  "to  die,  if  necessary,  under  the  banner 
of  Stalin." 

(I  shall  deal  with  the  phenomenon  of  confessions  in  another  chap- 
ter.) 

The  trial  touched  off  mass  arrests  of  German,  Polish,  and  other 
foreign  Communists  in  Moscow.  Government  officials  in  the  offices 
where  the  defendants  had  been  employed  were  arrested  in  hundreds. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  Soviet  history  that  front-rank  Bolsheviks 
had  been  executed.  Moscow  had  a  gruesome  feeling  that  anything 
might  happen  now.  No  man's  past  services,  whether  to  the  Revolu- 
tion or  to  Stalin,  protected  him.  It  was  open  season.  A  paralyzing 
nervousness  began  to  spread. 

I  left  Moscow  with  a  sense  of  relief.  I  was  sorry  for  the  people  who 
were  being  arrested.  And  I  was  even  more  sorry  for  those  of  my 
friends  who  saw  safety  in  publicly  defending  the  trials  and  the 
arrests. 

Before  going  to  America  to  lecture  I  wanted  to  have  a  pleasanter 
picture  in  my  mind.  Bombs  over  Valencia  were  far  less  disturbing 
than  the  echo  of  shots  in  the  GPU  cellars  on  Lubianka  Square. 

It  was  only  a  short  trip  from  Paris.  The  express  left  the  Quai 
d'Orsay  station  in  the  evening.  Early  in  the  morning  it  arrived  at 


412      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Toulouse.  The  Air  France  plane,  sldmming  the  snow-covered  peaks 
of  the  Pyrenees,  reached  Valencia  in  time  for  lunch. 

I  stayed  a  week.  I  interviewed  Caballero,  Prieto,  del  Vayo,  Negrin, 
and  many  others.  When  I  told  Caballero  that  Uritzky  had  told  me  in 
Moscow  the  Spanish  government  must  ask  for  more  munitions,  he 
registered  surprise.  "We've  asked  for  everything.  But  it  is  very  dif- 
ficult to  talk  to  Rosenberg.  He  listens  and  says  nothing."  It  did  not 
occur  to  Caballero  that  that  was  the  limited  function. of  a  wise  Soviet 
Ambassador.  Rosenberg's  reticence,  however,  often  irritated  expan- 
sive Spaniards. 

Prieto  was  pleased  to  hear  that  Uritzky  had  promised  more  sub- 
marines. "We  also  need  speedboats,"  he  said.  Prieto  too  complained 
that  the  Russians  were  slow  in  sending  material. 

I  told  Rosenberg  their  reactions. 

General  Grishin,  the  ranking  Soviet  military  officer  in  Spain,  took 
me  to  his  office  and  asked  my  impressions  of  Moscow.  Then  I  asked 
him  about  the  military  situation  in  Spain.  He  was  satisfied  with  the 
progress.  While  we  talked,  the  door  leading  to  the  next  room  was 
open  and  I  could  hear  an  assistant  taking  down  a  telephonic  report 
of  a  battle  north  of  Madrid  in  the  Las  Rozas  section.  I  heard  him 
repeat  the  information.  He  was  told  how  many  Loyalist  soldiers  were 
engaged,  what  arms  they  had,  how  the  Soviet  airplanes  collaborated, 
how  the  soldiers  fought,  how  the  rebels  fought,  and  what  booty  was 
taken.  It  was  a  Loyalist  victory  that  day. 

Valencia  felt  more  confident.  The  Republican  army  began  to  func- 
tion like  an  army.  The  International  Brigade  continued  to  grow. 

Crossing  the  Atlantic,  I  received  a  radio  message  from  New  York 
inviting  me  to  address  a  dinner  the  night  of  my  arrival  in  honor  of 
Soviet  Ambassador  Troyanovsky.  I  accepted.  Upon  disembarkation, 
a  representative  of  the  arrangements  committee  told  me  that  I  was 
not  to  speak  on  Russia  because  the  Ambassador  would  do  that,  and 
I  was  not  to  speak  on  Spain  because  that  would  embarrass  the  Ambas- 
sador. I  promised  to  speak  on  the  stormy  trans- Atlantic  crossing. 

So  with  sea  air  in  my  lungs  and  in  fresh  evening  clothes,  I  rose  at 
the  banquet  and  said,  "In  die  eyes  of  many  of  us  who  have  been 
devoted  to  Russia,  Spain  was  the  test.  Russia  is  meeting  the  test  suc- 
cessfully." 

Most  of  the  diners  were  friends  of  the  Soviet  Union  and  radicals. 
I  knew  from  their  applause  and  from  what  they  said  to  me  later  that 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR    413 

they  were  relieved.  The  Communist  and  Soviet  press  had  denied  there 
was  Russian  help  to  Spain.  The  Fascists  affirmed  it.  These  people  did 
not  know  what  to  believe.  They  knew  I  had  just  come  from  Spain 
and  had  seen  the  evidence  of  Russian  aid.  They  were  happy.  For  a 
Soviet  Russia  that  failed  to  help  struggling  Republican  Spain  would 
have  forfeited  the  right  to  the  friendship  of  liberals,  intellectuals,  and 
Communists. 

If  the  egotistical  patriotism  which  I  saw  emerging  from  Bolshevik 
headquarters  in  1935  and  1936  as  the  new  national  dogma  had  barred 
the  way  to  Soviet  participation  in  the  Spanish  struggle  in  1936,  I 
would  have  despaired  of  Russia,  and  I  think  I  would  have  turned 
away  from  Russia  then.  I  would  have  known  that  Moscow  had  for- 
saken the  internationalism  which  was  its  grace,  that  Moscow's  soul 
had  been  corroded.  To  protect  a  victim  of  Fascist  attack  was  Soviet 
Russia's  intimate  concern.  It  was  the  concern  of  every  anti-Fascist. 
It  was  the  proof  of  anti-Fascism.  The  statesmen  of  the  democracies 
did  not  furnish  the  proof. 

For  me  personally,  Spain  was  salvation;  I  was  glad  to  leave  Russia 
and  immerse  myself  in  a  new,  vibrant  situation  where  Russia  showed 
its  finest  face.  The  Bolsheviks  who  worked  and  fought  for  Spain 
were  glorious  human  beings.  They  could  not  have  fought  for  their 
native  land  with  more  self-sacrifice  and  heroism.  They  identified 
themselves  with  Spain.  It  was  their  adopted  country. 

Before  long,  Andr6  Malraux  arrived  in  New  York  to  make  propa- 
ganda for  the  Loyalist  cause,  and  The  Nation  arranged  a  dinner  for 
him.  He  delivered  a  beautifully  poetic  speech.  I  had  preceded  him 
with  a  factual  address  outlining  the  history  and  background  of  the 
Spanish  conflict. 

When  the  meeting  was  adjourned,  Malcolm  Cowley  of  The  New 
Republic  asked  me  whether  he  could  have  the  text  of  my  speech  to 
print  in  the  magazine.  I  said  I  would  try  to  write  it  up  and  let  him 
know.  But  The  Nation  protested,  reasonably  enough.  I  continued  to 
work  on  it  until  I  decided  to  expand  it  into  a  pamphlet.  I  had  offers 
from  two  publishers  for  a  book  on  Spain,  but  what  I  could  write  at 
the  moment  was  too  tentative  to  dignify  with  permanence.  If  Amer- 
ica printed  and  read  more  pamphlets  it  would  be  afflicted  with  fewer 
of  those  books  which  are  really  nothing  more  than  padded  maga- 
zine articles  or  watered  pamphlets.  Besides,  a  ten-cent  pamphlet  gets 
a.  bigger  circulation  and  I  was  interested  in  reaching  the  largest  pos- 
sible audience  with  the  facts  on  Spain.  The  pamphlet  was  published 


412      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Toulouse.  The  Air  France  plane,  skimming  the  snow-covered  peaks 
of  the  Pyrenees,  reached  Valencia  in  time  for  lunch. 

I  stayed  a  week.  I  interviewed  Caballero,  Prieto,  del  Vayo,  Negrin, 
and  many  others.  When  I  told  Caballero  that  Uritzky  had  told  me  in 
Moscow  the  Spanish  government  must  ask  for  more  munitions,  he 
registered  surprise.  'We've  asked  for  everything.  But  it  is  very  dif- 
ficult to  talk  to  Rosenberg.  He  listens  and  says  nothing."  It  did  not 
occur  to  Caballero  that  that  was  the  limited  function. of  a  wise  Soviet 
Ambassador.  Rosenberg's  reticence,  however,  often  irritated  expan- 
sive Spaniards. 

Prieto  was  pleased  to  hear  that  Uritzky  had  promised  more  sub- 
marines. "We  also  need  speedboats,"  he  said.  Prieto  too  complained 
that  the  Russians  were  slow  in  sending  material. 

I  told  Rosenberg  their  reactions. 

General  Grishin,  the  ranking  Soviet  military  officer  in  Spain,  took 
me  to  his  office  and  asked  my  impressions  of  Moscow.  Then  I  asked 
him  about  the  military  situation  in  Spain.  He  was  satisfied  with  the 
progress.  While  we  talked,  the  door  leading  to  the  next  room  was 
open  and  I  could  hear  an  assistant  taking  down  a  telephonic  report 
of  a  battle  north  of  Madrid  in  the  Las  Rozas  section.  I  heard  him 
repeat  the  information.  He  was  told  how  many  Loyalist  soldiers  were 
engaged,  what  arms  they  had,  how  the  Soviet  airplanes  collaborated, 
how  the  soldiers  fought,  how  the  rebels  fought,  and  what  booty  was 
taken.  It  was  a  Loyalist  victory  that  day. 

Valencia  felt  more  confident.  The  Republican  army  began  to  func- 
tion like  an  army.  The  International  Brigade  continued  to  grow. 

Crossing  the  Atlantic,  I  received  a  radio  message  from  New  York 
inviting  me  to  address  a  dinner  the  night  of  my  arrival  in  honor  of 
Soviet  Ambassador  Troyanovsky.  I  accepted.  Upon  disembarkation, 
a  representative  of  the  arrangements  committee  told  me  that  I  was 
not  to  speak  on  Russia  because  the  Ambassador  would  do  that,  and 
I  was  not  to  speak  on  Spain  because  that  would  embarrass  the  Ambas- 
sador. I  promised  to  speak  on  the  stormy  trans- Atlantic  crossing. 

So  with  sea  air  in  my  lungs  and  in  fresh  evening  clothes,  I  rose  at 
the  banquet  and  said,  "In  die  eyes  of  many  of  us  who  have  been 
devoted  to  Russia,  Spain  was  the  test.  Russia  is  meeting  the  test  suc- 
cessfully." 

Most  of  the  diners  were  friends  of  the  Soviet  Union  and  radicals. 
I  knew  from  their  applause  and  from  what  they  said  to  me  later  that 


THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  THE  SECOND  WORLD  WAR    413 

they  were  relieved.  The  Communist  and  Soviet  press  had  denied  there 
was  Russian  help  to  Spain.  The  Fascists  affirmed  it.  These  people  did 
not  know  what  to  believe.  They  knew  I  had  just  come  from  Spain 
and  had  seen  the  evidence  of  Russian  aid.  They  were  happy.  For  a 
Soviet  Russia  that  failed  to  help  struggling  Republican  Spain  would 
have  forfeited  the  right  to  the  friendship  of  liberals,  intellectuals,  and 
Communists. 

If  the  egotistical  patriotism  which  I  saw  emerging  from  Bolshevik 
headquarters  in  1935  and  1936  as  the  new  national  dogma  had  barred 
the  way  to  Soviet  participation  in  the  Spanish  struggle  in  1936,  I 
would  have  despaired  of  Russia,  and  I  think  I  would  have  turned 
away  from  Russia  then.  I  would  have  known  that  Moscow  had  for- 
saken the  internationalism  which  was  its  grace,  that  Moscow's  soul 
had  been  corroded.  To  protect  a  victim  of  Fascist  attack  was  Soviet 
Russia's  intimate  concern.  It  was  the  concern  of  every  anti-Fascist. 
It  was  the  proof  of  anti-Fascism.  The  statesmen  of  the  democracies 
did  not  furnish  the  proof. 

For  me  personally,  Spain  was  salvation;  I  was  glad  to  leave  Russia 
and  immerse  myself  in  a  new,  vibrant  situation  where  Russia  showed 
its  finest  face.  The  Bolsheviks  who  worked  and  fought  for  Spain 
were  glorious  human  beings.  They  could  not  have  fought  for  their 
native  land  with  more  self-sacrifice  and  heroism.  They  identified 
themselves  with  Spain.  It  was  their  adopted  country. 

Before  long,  Andr6  Malraux  arrived  in  New  York  to  make  propa- 
ganda for  the  Loyalist  cause,  and  The  Nation  arranged  a  dinner  for 
him.  He  delivered  a  beautifully  poetic  speech.  I  had  preceded  him 
with  a  factual  address  outlining  the  history  and  background  of  the 
Spanish  conflict. 

When  the  meeting  was  adjourned,  Malcolm  Cowley  of  The  New 
Republic  asked  me  whether  he  could  have  the  text  of  my  speech  to 
print  in  the  magazine.  I  said  I  would  try  to  write  it  up  and  let  him 
know.  But  The  Nation  protested,  reasonably  enough.  I  continued  to 
work  on  it  until  I  decided  to  expand  it  into  a  pamphlet.  I  had  offers 
from  two  publishers  for  a  book  on  Spain,  but  what  I  could  write  at 
the  moment  was  too  tentative  to  dignify  with  permanence.  If  Amer- 
ica printed  and  read  more  pamphlets  it  would  be  afflicted  with  fewer 
of  those  books  which  are  really  nothing  more  than  padded  maga- 
zine articles  or  watered  pamphlets.  Besides,  a  ten-cent  pamphlet  gets 
a  bigger  circulation  and  I  was  interested  in  reaching  the  largest  pos- 
sible audience  with  the  facts  on  Spain.  The  pamphlet  was  published 


414      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

in  the  United  States  in  May,  1937,  by  The  Nation,  and  in  London, 
and  in  Paris  in  both  French  and  German.  I  dictated  most  of  it  on 
the  roof  of  the  Mayflower  Hotel  in  New  York  while  sick  with 
arthritis,  and  the  income  from  it  paid  all  the  expense  of  a  ten-weeks' 
illness,  chiefly  because  my  good  doctor  charged  me  little  more  than 
his  carfare  and  laboratory  costs. 

In  this  pamphlet,  I  declared  that  "the  first  battle  of  the  second 
World  War  is  now  being  fought  in  Spain."  For  the  British  edition, 
I  went  further,  "The  fate  of  Spain  is  thus  intimately  related  to  the 
fate  of  Czechoslovakia  and  Austria.  The  victory  of  the  legal  Spanish 
government  would  make  warlike  ventures  in  the  rest  of  Europe  more 
unlikely  and  lend  resistance  to  the  geographic  status  quo.  This  the 
Fascist  aggressors  must  at  all  cost  prevent." 

My  joints  were  still  swollen  when  Fernando  de  los  Rios,  the  Loyal- 
ist Ambassador  in  Washington,  told  me  the  government  had  called 
him  to  Valencia  for  a  conference  of  its  diplomatic  representatives.  I 
felt  so  jealous  of  his  going  back  to  Spain  that  I  painfully  picked  my- 
self up  and  sailed  with  him.  It  was  difficult  for  de  los  Rios  even  to 
eat  celery  without  discussing  Spain  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
between  Sandy  Hook  and  Cherbourg  the  learned  professor  gave  me 
a  course  in  the  history  of  the  i6oo's.  He  looked  with  a  kind  of  aca- 
demic disdain  on  the  more  recent  centuries,  the  disdain  of  an  expert 
on  Egypt  of  the  Pharoahs  toward  the  modern  Rome  of  the  Caesars. 

A  few  weeks  after  leaving  New  York  I  was  bumping  in  a  baby 
Fiat  from  Valencia  to  the  Madrid  front,  and  that  finally  cured  me. 
Seiior  de  los  Rios,  incidentally,  did  not  content  himself,  as  he  easily 
might  have,  with  debating  politics  in  Valencia.  He  visited  almost  all 
the  fronts,  sharing  the  hardships  and  dangers  of  the  troops. 


24.  The  Sins  of  Democracy 

I  HAVE  lived  in  all  the  major  dictatorships:  Soviet  Russia,  Nazi 
Germany,  and  Fascist  Italy.  I  am  convinced  that  dictatorships 
are  costly  to  individuals,  bad  for  countries  and  dangerous  to 
world  peace.  I  believe  that  democracy  is  better  than  dictatorship. 
Democracy  is  better,  but  I  am  not  sure  it  is  good. 

Between  1936  and  1939  I  watched  democracy  in  Spain  lose  a  war. 
I  watched  democracy  in  Europe  and  America  make  a  war.  Democ- 
racy is  heavily  laden  with  sins  of  commission  and  omission.  It  takes 
two  to  make  a  war  and  two  to  lose  a  war.  The  aggressors  alone  could 
not  have  made  the  World  War  of  1939.  They  had  help  from  the 
democracies.  Franco  alone  would  not  have  won  the  Spanish  War.  He 
received  help  from  Hitler,  Mussolini,  Chamberlain,  and  Daladier. 

Arrived  in  Valencia  from  New  York  in  June,  1937, 1  asked  Negrin 
for  an  appointment,  and  he  invited  me  to  have  dinner  and  spend  the 
night  at  Naquera,  a  small  town  near  the  capital  where  he  could  sleep 
undisturbed  by  nocturnal  air  raids.  Negrin  had  an  Hispano-Slav  dis- 
regard of  time,  and  it  was  ten  before  we  got  away  to  Naquera. 
Carabineros  in  light  green  uniforms  jumped  smartly  to  attention  as 
his  big  car  rolled  into  the  grounds.  The  house  had  a  tremendous 
porch  overgrown  with  tropical  vines.  Salamanders  darted  across  the 
wall  under  the  bright  electric  lights.  Trees  grew  in  huge  tile  pots 
that  stood  on  the  tile  floor  of  the  porch. 

During  dinner,  served  by  Carabineros,  Negrin  fitfully  looked  at 
his  watch.  Something  disturbed  him.  At  midnight  he  said  to  me, 
"Two  men  are  being  executed  now.  It  had  to  be.  We  are  at  war." 
He  reverted  to  the  men  twice  in  the  subsequent  course  of  our  con- 
versation. 

I  told  him  I  was  glad  he  had  become  Prime  Minister.  My  only 
regret,  I  declared,  was  that  del  Vayo  had  not  been  included  as  For- 
eign Minister.  "Jos6  Giral  may  be  a  good  pharmacist,  but  you  must 
admit,"  I  said,  "he  makes  a  rather  colorless  and  ignorant  Foreign 
Minister." 

He  did  not  admit  it  except  by  not  denying  it. 

41S 


416      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

I  asked  him  how  he  was  chosen  to  head  the  government  and  how 
he  picked  his  ministers.  The  explanation  lasted  half  an  hour. 

The  Communists,  many  Socialists,  and  many  Republicans  felt  that 
Caballero  was  too  dilatory  and  weak  as  War  Minister.  Negrin  was 
suggested  as  War  Minister.  But  Caballero  refused  to  relinquish  the 
post.  He  contended  that  a  Prime  Minister  who  was  not  War  Minister 
in  time  of  war  would  become  a  figurehead.  The  Communists  there- 
upon withdrew  their  support  from  Caballero. 

The  Communists  also  refused  to  back  Prieto  for  Premier.  He  was 
too  anti-Communist.  President  Azana,  accordingly,  summoned  Don 
Juan  Negrin. 

"That  slightly  overwhelmed  me,"  Negrin  said.  "I  had  never 
dreamed  of  being  a  Prime  Minister.  But  I  accepted  and  started  inter- 
viewing the  heads  of  the  various  political  parties  and  of  the  two  big 
trade-union  organizations"— UGT,  the  Socialist  trade  union,  and 
CNT,  the  anarcho-syndicalist  trade  union. 

Under  Caballero's  influence,  the  UGT  abstained  from  participa- 
tion in  the  Negrin  government.  The  Socialist  party  designated  three 
ministers:  Negrin  as  Premier  and  Finance  Minister,  Prieto  as  War 
Minister,  and  Zugazagoitia  as  Minister  of  Interior.  "Zuga,"  as  friends 
called  him,  was  a  young  Prieto  man  from  Prieto's  Basque  country, 
and  like  Prieto,  a  newspaper  editor.  The  Communists  designated 
Jesus  Hernandez,  Minister  of  Education,  and  Luis  Uribe,  Minister  of 
Agriculture.  The  bourgeois  Republicans  designated  Giral,  Foreign 
Minister,  and  Giner  de  los  Rios,  Minister  of  Public  Works  and  Com- 
munications. The  Catholic  Basque  Nationalists  named  Manuel  Irujo, 
who  became  Minister  of  Justice.  The  Catalan  bourgeois  named  Jaime 
Ayguade,  whom  Negrin  appointed  Minister  of  Labor.  Negrin  did 
not  want  a  big  Cabinet  and  limited  it  to  nine  posts. 

"I  could  not  include  del  Vayo,"  Negrin  explained,  "because  he 
could  only  have  come  in  as  representative  of  the  UGT,  and  the  UGT 
rebuffed  my  offer  of  collaboration."  That  was  the  formal  reason. 
The  reason  was  that  Azana  and  Prieto  were  opposed  to  del  Vayo. 
They  suspected  that  he  was  too  sympathetic  to  the  Communists. 
Moreover,  Azana  wanted  to  be  his  own  Foreign  Minister,  and  to 
achieve  this  he  had  to  have  somebody  who  knew  nothing  about 
foreign  affairs. 

The  Negrin  government  was  thus  constructed  by  the  same  method 
of  give-and-take  and  party  and  personal  bargaining  that  France  knew 
so  well.  It  was  the  democratic  method.  It  had  many  disadvantages. 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  417 

But  it  had  this  advantage:  one  party  could  not  dominate  all  the 
others  and  in  the  end  eliminate  all  the  others.  Throughout  the  war, 
the  Communists  or  Socialists  or  Republicans  could  have  overthrown 
any  Cabinet  by  withdrawing  their  support  from  it.  This  was  a  safe- 
guard against  dictatorship. 

Negrin  told  me  he  did  not  want  the  Anarchists  in  his  government. 
They  might  come  in  later  when  they  learned  to  collaborate.  Prieto 
was  of  the  same  mind.  Prieto  explained  his  stand  to  me.  He  said,  "We 
are  a  coalition  government.  Each  minister  brings  the  government  the 
support  of  his  party.  But  an  Anarchist  minister  does  not  do  this;  his 
party  is  an  unorganized  flock;  part  goes  in  one  direction,  part  in 
another.  The  Anarchist  leaders  have  no  influence  over  their  own 
people.  When  the  May  rising  occurred  in  Barcelona  Garcia 'Oliver 
and  Federica  Montseny,  then  Anarchist  ministers  in  the  Caballero 
government,  went  to  Barcelona  to  quell  the  disturbances.  But  they 
soon  came  back  to  Valencia  and  the  first  thing  they  did  they  asked 
for  food.  Their  Barcelona  comrades  not  only  did  not  listen  to  them; 
they  refused  to  feed  them." 

•  Negrin  was  the  symbol  of  Spanish  resistance  to  foreign  invasion 
and  Fascism.  Statements  that  the  Negrin  government  would  be  a  tool 
of  Great  Britain  and  France,  though  widely  circulated,  deserve  no 
notice  now  because  it  was  not. 

Negrin's  cabinet,  as  constituted  in  May,  1937,  disguised  two  major 
conflicts.  One  was  the  conflict  between  Negrin  and  Azafia,  President 
Azafia  was  an  appeaser.  He  wanted  to  use  British  and  French  good 
offices  to  arrange  an  armistice.  Giral  served  this  purpose.  Del  Vayo 
would  not  have.  Prieto  stood  halfway  between  Azafia  and  Negrin. 
His  health  and  his  whole  mentality  made  him  a  pessimist.  He  lacked 
faith  in  the  cause.  Yet  being  a  born  fighter  he  fought  on. 

There  was  a  second  major  conflict  intertwined  with  the  first:  anti- 
Communists  versus  Communists.  In  a  war  so  shot  through  with  poli- 
tics, control  of  the  army  meant  everything.  The  Communists  were 
trying  to  get  control  of  the  Loyalist  army.  Prieto,  Minister  of  Na- 
tional Defense,  obstructed  their  efforts.  He  enjoyed  the  backing  of 
Azafia  and  of  the  four  bourgeois  members  of  the  Cabinet,  four  out  of 
nine.  Prieto's  vote  made  five.  "Zuga's"  might  make  six.  Prieto  could 
thus  dominate  the  Cabinet  and  clash  with  Negrin  who,  although 
Prieto's  superior,  had  great  respect  for  Prieto's  personality,  ability, 
1  and  sterling  qualities.  It  took  Negrin  almost  a  year  to  break  the 
,  Azafia-Prieto  stranglehold  on  his  power.  Negrin  also  had  enemies 


418      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

outside  the  Cabinet:  Caballero,  Luis  Araquistain  who  resigned  as 
Ambassador  to  Paris  when  Caballero  fell,  and  the  Anarchists. 

Negrin,  burdened  with  the  back-breaking  task  of  directing  a 
country  at  war,  of  fighting  a  powerful  domestic-foreign  enemy,  and 
of  organizing  a  good  army,  faced  the  additional  hardship  of  balanc- 
ing the  hostile  forces  in  his  own  democratic  government.  When  the 
war  was  over,  sitting  in  his  room  in  the  Hotel  Plaza  in  New  York, 
I  asked  Negrin  whether,  if  he  had  the  whole  thing  to  do  over  again, 
he  would  suppress  the  political  parties. 

Negrin  said  emphatically,  "No.  We  could  not,  in  fighting,  destroy 
the  things  we  were  fighting  for." 

I  had  a  lot  of  trouble  getting  an  interview  with  Azana.  He  was 
President  now,  and  as  such  never  saw  journalists.  Negrin  said  he 
could  not  ask  Azana  to  see  me.  But  one  night,  Negrin  stopped  at 
Azana's  country  place  on  the  way  out  to  Naquera,  and  when  Azana's 
secretary  came  out  to  greet  Negrin  I  reminded  him  that  I  had  written 
a  letter  to  Azana  requesting  an  interview.  In  a  few  days,  a  message 
came  giving  me  an  appointment. 

Azafia  was  kte  arriving  at  his  executive  mansion  on  account— so 
his  secretary  said— of  the  long  night  air  raid.  I  waited  with  Rosen- 
blatt in  the  antechamber.  Presently,  uniformed  heralds  blew  loud 
notes  on  their  horns,  and  guards  and  stiff  attaches  in  diplomatic  garb 
stood  to  attention. 

When  the  first  visitor  was  ushered  into  the  President's  office  I 
asked  the  secretary  who  he  was.  A  judge  from  the  province  of  Jaen. 
He  came  out  in  three  minutes.  The  next  visitor  was  a  general.  Rosen- 
blatt, Azana's  secretary,  and  I  played  guesses  as  to  how  long  the  gen- 
eral would  stay.  Before  we  were  through  guessing  the  general  passed 
us  on  the  way  out  of  the  building.  He  had  been  in  for  five  minutes. 
The  third  caller  was  Jose  Domenchina,  a  Spanish  poet.  He  remained 
closeted  with  Azana  for  twenty  minutes.  How  long  would  my  audi- 
ence last?  If  it  was  too  short  I  would  not  get  what  I  wanted;  if  too 
long  I  would  miss  my  lunch  at  the  hotel. 

When  he  saw  me,  Azafia  exclaimed,  "Ola,  Fischer"  (pronouncing 
it,  as  Spaniards  did— Featcher),  and  slapped  me  on  the  back.  This  is 
Spanish  for  a  friendly  handshake.  He  complimented  me  on  my  Span- 
ish. I  said  I  was  glad  to  see  him  in  Valencia. 

We  sat  down  near  a  window  on  soft  gilded  chairs.  "Tell  me  what 
you  think  of  the  situation,"  he  began.  I  said  that  is  what  I  wanted 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  419 

him  to  do.  We  kept  this  up  a  while  and  finally  I  said  I  would  tell  him 
what  I  thought  if  he  would  tell  me  what  he  thought.  He  agreed,  but 
he  stipulated  that  nothing  he  said  was  for  immediate  publication.  I 
could  only  write  that  I  had  been  received  by  him. 

Azafia  had  a  great  mind  yet  somehow  one  did  not  respect  him  as 
a  person.  He  was  not  brave  like  Negrin  or  noble  like  Caballero  or 
unique  like  Prieto.  Brain  alone  carried  him  very  high.  But  without 
heart  and  fortitude  he  never  reached  the  pinnacle  and  never  captured 
the  imagination  or  the  loyalty  of  the  nation. 

I  told  Azaiia  that  it  embarrassed  me  to  tell  him  what  was  happen- 
ing in  Spain,  but  if  he  insisted  I  would  try.  To  me,  the  most  inter- 
esting process  was  the  emergence  of  a  Spanish  nation.  Andalusians 
were  mixing  with  Asturians,  Madrilenos  with  Catalans,  and  all  had 
a  dawning  sense  of  their  country  in  danger.  Second,  I  thought  the 
bourgeoisie  was  losing  its  political  ascendancy  and  most  of  its  politi- 
cal power.  Third,  I  thought  the  Communists  were  becoming  increas- 
ingly bourgeois.  Fourth,  Loyalist  foreign  policy  impressed  me  as 
being  too  timid.  Fifth,  he  ought  to  mix  with  the  people  more,  visit 
hospitals  and  convalescent  homes,  and  talk  to  the  soldiers.  (I  thought, 
but  I  did  not  say,  that  it  might  stiffen  his  morale.) 

"Now  you  tell  me,"  I  said. 

He  unbuttoned  his  jacket  and  I  saw  the  initials  of  his  name  on  his 
silk  shirt.  I  once  saw  initials  on  the  dirty  undershirt  of  a  peasant  boy 
in  a  Spanish  village.  There  are  few  Spanish  men  who  do  not  have 
initials  embroidered  on  their  shirts.  Is  it  Spanish  individualism  or 
what? 

"Undoubtedly,"  Azafia  declared,  "a  Spanish  nation  is  being  born. 
Franco  is  completing  Napoleon's  job.  The  task  commenced  in  one 
war,  and  interrupted  because  Spain  resisted  the  French  Revolution, 
is  being  completed  in  this  war.  The  Spaniard  is  beginning  to  say,  'I 
am  a  Spaniard,'  and  not,  1  am  a  Valenciano'  or,  CI  am  a  Castilian.' " 
"Spain  and  Russia,"  Azafia  went  on,  "defeated  Napoleon  and  in  that 
way  defeated  their  own  futures.  Both  countries  failed  to  become 
nations.  Today  in  Spain  we  are  struggling  against  foreign  domination. 
That  feeds  nationalist  sentiment.  I,"  he  declared,  "am  the  super- 
expression  of  the  new  Spanish  nation." 

"You  say  the  bourgeoisie  is  losing  its  power  and  the  Communists 
are  becoming  bourgeoisie.  An  intriguing  paradox,"  he  continued. 
"But  in  Spain,  one  must  learn  to  translate  well-known  terms.  The 
Germans  and  the  Italians  made  the  mistake  of  thinking  that  if  the 


420      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

army  went  over  to  Franco  they  would  win  the  war  in  two  weeks. 
When  they  thought  'army/  they  saw  organized,  disciplined  regiments 
sitting  in  barracks  awaiting  orders.  Well,  they  have  the  army.  But  it 
has  not  meant  victory.  In  the  same  way,  'Communist'  means  some- 
thing different  in  Spain.  The  Communists  are  supposed  to  be  atheists. 
In  Spain,  the  Communist  party  was  the  first  to  demand  the  reopen- 
ing of  the  churches  and  the  loudest  to  decry  the  unnecessary  as- 
saults on  the  church  in  the  beginning  of  the  war. 

"The  Spanish  Communists,"  President  Azana  asserted  further, 
"have  advocated  protection  of  private  property  on  the  land.  Spain 
needs  more  than  that.  Some  of  our  larger  industries  must  be  nation- 
alized." 

"That,"  I  suggested,  "sounds  like  the  program  of  the  Communists. 
Why  don't  you  join  the  Communist  party?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  "that  would  be  misunderstood  abroad."  I 
told  him  I  had  not  meant  it  seriously. 

He  assumed  a  grave  demeanor  and  explained  that  he  differed 
most  with  the  Communists  and  other  Spanish  friends  on  the  ques- 
tion of  continuing  the  war.  He  had  sent  Julian  Besteiro,  moderate 
Socialist  leader,  to  represent  Spain  at  the  coronation  of  King  George 
VI  in  London,  in  May,  1937.  "On  my  instructions,"  Azana  said, 
"Besteiro  had  a  conference  with  Mr.  Anthony  Eden  and  outlined 
my  peace  plan  to  the  British  minister.  A  truce  between  the  govern- 
ment and  the  rebels  was  to  be  declared.  All  foreign  troops  and  vol- 
unteers serving  on  both  sides  would  then  be  withdrawn  from  the 
country.  During  the  truce  no  battle  lines  would  be  shifted.  Eng- 
land, France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  the  Soviet  Union  would  there- 
upon devise  a  scheme,  which  the  Republic  promised  in  advance  to 
accept,  whereby  the  will  of  the  entire  Spanish  nation  on  its  political 
future  would  be  ascertained." 

"But,"  Azana  exclaimed  indignantly,  "my  representative  did  not 
even  receive  a  reply  from  the  British  government.  Do  they  think  I 
am  an  Armand  Falli&res?" 

I  did  not  know  who  Armand  Fallieres  was.  I  learned  later  that 
he  was  President  of  France  in  1913  and  that  his  name  served  as  a 
synonym  for  a  rubber  stamp. 

I  expressed  doubt  whether  Franco  would  ever  accept  such  a  pro- 
posal or  whether  Hitler  and  Mussolini  would  allow  him  to  do  so. 
The  Fascists  knew  a  plebiscite  would  go  against  them,  and  they  had 
not  invested  their  men  and  arms  in  Spain  to  be  voted  out  of  it.  "Nor 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  421 

would  I  trust  them,"  I  continued,  "to  repatriate  their  so-called  vol- 
unteers if  they  promised  it,  or  to  keep  their  lines  intact  during  the 


truce." 


We  talked  of  many  more  things  until  my  grumbling  sjpmach  in- 
formed me  that  it  was  past  lunch  time  in  the  hotel.  I  had  already  spent 
an  hour  and  a  quarter  with  Azaiia.  I  took  my  leave,  and  since  it  was 
so  late  I  went  across  the  street  to  Negrin's  Presidencia.  Negrin  always 
ate  late.  I  found  him  at  the  table. 

Negrin  asked  me  whether  I  had  seen  Azaiia  and  then  inquired  what 
Azaiia  had  said.  I  gave  him  a  general  summary  of  the  conversation. 
Negrin  was  especially  incensed  by  Azana's  steps  in  relation  to  Eng- 
land. A  Spanish  President  had  no  independence  of  action  in  foreign 
affairs  or  any  other  province.  The  Spanish  President  was  not  an  ex- 
ecutive but  a  sort  of  Republican  King  of  England  who  was  a  symbol 
of  the  state  without  any  administrative  function. 

I  asked  Negrin  his  opinion  on  my  characterization  of  the  Com- 
munists. He  replied,  "Left  and  Right  have  become  very  confused 
concepts.  You  remember  when  we  met  in  the  spring  of  1936  I  com- 
mented on  my  being  called  a  right-wing  Socialist.  The  difference 
between  me  and  the  left-wing  was  that  they  marched  the  youth 
organization  through  the  streets  in  beautiful  blue  shirts  and  red  ties, 
while  I  said,  'Stop  marching  and  get  arms/  " 

"Now  too,"  Negrin  continued,  "names  are  misleading.  In  many 
respects,  the  Communists  go  too  far  to  the  Right.  I  dislike  the  forced 
village  collectivization  of  the  Anarchists.  It  has  turned  some  peas- 
ants against  us.  But  I  also  dislike  the  Communist  agitation  against 
collectivization.  In  general,  I  believe  in  doing  things  quietly  by  eco- 
nomic measures  and  without  revolutionary  disturbances.  Russia  has 
lost  much  by  the  violence,  suddenness,  and  one  hundred  percent 
character  of  its  reforms.  We  will  slowly  absorb  all  the  banks.  When 
the  war  broke  out,  workingmen's  committees,  often  Anarchist,  took 
over  the  factories.  Production  fell.  They  paid  themselves  in  wages 
everything  they  took  in  from  sales.  Now  they  have  no  money.  They 
are  coming  to  me  for  running  expenses  and  for  raw  materials.  We 
will  take  advantage  of  their  plight  to  gain  control  of  the  factories. 
Catalan  industry  is  in  chaos  and  as  a  result  we  have  to  depend  far 
too  much  on  imports  which,  as  you  know,  are  expensive  even  when 
we  can  get  them." 

Negrin  then  brought  up  the  question  of  the  purges  and  trials  in 
the  Soviet  Union.  We  discussed  this  subject  for  over  an  hour.  His 


422      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

refrain  was,  "This  will  do  us  a  lot  of  harm."  I  had  one  refrain  too, 
"The  purges  and  trials  are  the  overhead  of  dictatorship.  It  is  neces- 
sary, above  all,  to  prevent  the  rise  of  a  dictatorship  in  Republican 
Spain."  Negrin  agreed.  We  reverted  to  this  matter  many  times  dur- 
ing the  course  of  1937  and  1938. 

Not  one  of  the  world  dictators  is  a  highly  educated  man  or  a 
person  of  varied  experience  and  broad  culture.  They  are  narrow 
individuals.  But  Negrin  speaks  a  dozen  languages  and  has  traveled 
the  world.  In  Paris,  after  the  Loyalist  defeat,  he  started  studying 
Greek,  Chinese,  and  Arabic.  His  room  is  always  heaped  high  with 
the  latest  books.  He  has  his  share  of  skepticism,  cynicism,  and  philos- 
ophy. He  has  the  modesty  of  one  who  knows  his  limitations.  A 
dictator  never  looks  into  a  mirror.  Negrin  does,  and  laughs. 

However,  Negrin  felt  he  was  the  right  man  in  the  right  place  as 
Prime  Minister  of  Spain.  He  believes  today  that  he  still  has  a  role 
to  play  in  the  future  of  his  country.  That  makes  for  confidence  and 
energy.  Negrin  wants  to  do  things.  He  is  a  man  of  action.  On  occa- 
sions, he  procrastinates.  In  his  relations  with  Azana  and  Prieto  he 
displayed  caution  and  the  ability  to  wait  and  prepare.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  takes  delight  in  quick  decisions  without  consulting  others. 
He  consults  them  later.  He  cuts  red  tape.  He  is  an  executive.  He 
inspires  great  personal  loyalty  to  himself.  He  knows  how  to  dele- 
gate authority.  This  is  a  rare  quality  in  modern  statesmen.  He  does 
not  always  know  how  to  choose  his  delegates.  Spain  is  rich  in  fine 
human  beings  and  poor  in  administrators  and  civil  leaders.  That  is 
its  backwardness. 

Negrin  shuns  the  limelight.  He  hates  to  be  photographed.  He 
hates  to  make  speeches.  He  does  not  strut  or  boast.  He  has  a  sense 
of  his  own  inadequacy  and  his  being  a  small  speck  in  a  'big  world. 
He  does  not  intrigue.  The  complicated  interplay  of  conflicting  party- 
political  forces  is  a  strange  new  field  to  him  and  he  abhors  it.  Dur- 
ing the  war  he  f requently  ignored  it.  Once  there  was  a  cabinet  crisis. 
He  disappeared  for  four  days  and  went  to  a  mountain  home.  Mean- 
while Barcelona  boiled.  Everybody  whispered  the  names  of  new 
ministers.  Negrin  kept  his  ears  shut.  When  he  returned  he  solved  the 
crisis  in  a  morning. 

One  evening  in  July,  1937,  Negrin  invited  me  to  dinner  in  his 
office  in  the  Finance  Ministry.  Other  guests  were  War  Minister 
Prieto,  Education  Minister  Jesus  Hernandez,  Arthur  Stashevsky, 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  423 

Soviet  trade  representative  in  Spain,  and  a  colonel  of  the  Carabi- 
neros.  Excellent  food  was  served,  and  excellent  wines  followed  by 
liqueurs.  Prieto  was  in  fine  fettle  and  kept  the  company  amused 
with  quick  quips  and  anecdotes,  some  of  which  Negrin  had  time  to 
explain  to  me.  As  the  evening  grew  old,  Prieto  sang  Basque  songs 
and  others  joined.  We  were  still  at  the  table  when  Hernandez,  sit- 
ting next  to  Prieto,  leaned  over  to  him  and  said,  "You  know,  Prieto, 
in  1917  I  plotted  to  assassinate  you." 

Prieto,  his  tremendous  spherical  bald  head  gleaming,  looked  the 
giant  beside  young  little  Hernandez  with  his  curly  black  hair,  eye 
glasses,  and  pinched  face.  Prieto  guffawed,  put  his  big  arm  around 
die  leather  coat  Hernandez  wore,  and  exclaimed,  "Bueno,  camarada, 
bueno? 

I  was  going  up  to  Madrid  by  car  and  told  Negrin  that  I  would 
be  there  three  days.  He  said,  "You  may  be  there  longer.  I  am  going 
soon  too,  but  don't  tell  anybody."  This  made  it  pretty  plain,  and  if 
I  had  any  doubts  the  heavy  traffic  on  the  road  from  Valencia  to 
Madrid  would  have  dispelled  it;  the  Loyalists  were  planning  an  of- 
fensive in  the  central  sector. 

We  detoured  because  the  rebels  were  shelling  part  of  the  Valencia- 
Madrid  road.  En  route,  a  truck  driver  stopped  us.  He  was  having 
engine  trouble.  It  was  a  pitch-dark  night.  Men  on  top  of  the  truck- 
load  were  speaking  English.  Members  of  the  International  Brigade. 

"Where  are  you  from?"  "New  York."  "Chicago."  "Los  Angeles." 

I  heard  a  voice  that  had  no  American  accent.  "Is  that  you,  Ralph?", 
I  asked.  It  was  Ralph  Bates,  talented  British  novelist,  commissar  and 
lecturer  on  politics  in  the  Brigade.  We  made  the  rest  of  the  trip  to- 
gether in  the  car. 

Madrid  was  black.  Pickets  stopped  us,  examined  our  papers,  turned 
their  flashlights  on  us,  and  asked  for  the  password.  "Madrid  is  the 
heart  .  .  ."  die  picket  said.  ".  .  .  of  the  defense  of  a  free  Spain," 
our  driver  answered.  "Pass,"  said  the  picket. 

The  next  morning  I  strolled  through  the  streets  and  walked  down 
to  the  Casa  de  Campo  front.  Madrid  was  transformed.  Its  face  and 
arms  were  covered  with  old  scratches  and  scars  and  fresh  wounds. 
But  it  walked  erect,  eyes  unafraid  and  white.  It  had  become  thin  and 
gaunt,  but  its  muscles  were  hard  as  steel  and  its  trigger  finger  unerr- 
ing. Its  heart  never  skipped  a  beat.  "No  Pasaran"  proclaimed  in  the 
frivolous  days  of  October,  1936,  had  become  a  fact.  Madrid  could 
not  be  taken,  was  never  taken. 


424      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

(Winston  Churchill,  Prime  Minister  of  Great  Britain,  was  driv- 
ing through  the  streets  of  London  in  August,  1940,  with  H.  R. 
Knickerbocker,  American  correspondent,  as  his  passenger.  They 
passed  several  pillboxes.  Churchill  turned  to  Knickerbocker  and  said, 
"London  will  be  defended  at  every  street  corner  if  necessary.  Lon- 
don will  be  a  second  Madrid."  Madrid  was  a  symbol  and  an  inspira- 
tion to  London— after  it  had  been  the  victim  of  London.) 

In  Madrid,  friends  told  me  later  that  week  that  Negrin  was  in 
the  city.  I  phoned  him  and  went  to  see  him;  we  had  a  very  bad  break- 
fast together.  Food  was  much  worse  in  Madrid  than  in  Valencia.  I 
reminded  him  that  he  had  asked  me  to  keep  his  stay  in  Madrid  secret, 
but  many  people  knew  about  it.  He  said,  "To  make  folks  feel  that 
everything  was  normal  I  went  to  a  cafe  in  the  evening."  Negrin 
is  a  Madrileno  by  adoption  and  he  could  not  resist  a  caf6. 

The  offensive  had  started  in  the  Brunete  district  west  of  Madrid. 
The  Loyalists  hoped  to  gain  ground  and  raise  morale,  but  the  real 
ambition  was  to  get  behind  the  besiegers  of  Madrid  and  lift  the  siege. 
Spain  being  the  least  discreet  of  countries,  the  correspondents  were 
not  only  prohibited  from  going  to  the  front  but  even  prevented 
from  telegraphing  more  than  the  uncommunicative  communiques. 
We  chafed.  I  asked  Negrin  whether  he  could  give  me  a  pass  to  the 
front  and  he  swore  to  me  that  the  cabinet  had  ruled  that  no  one 
could  go  to  the  front  without  a  personal  pass  from  Prieto.  He  prom- 
ised, however,  to  talk  to  him,  and  the  next  day  Negrin  handed  me 
the  permission  signed  by  Prieto  which  I  still  have  as  a  souvenir. 

Negrin's  office  lent  me  a  big  open  Rolls-Royce  and,  dressed  in  a 
white  shirt  for  some  silly  reason— so  that  I  could  be  seen  better  from 
the  air,  I  suppose— I  started  out.  The  driver  took  a  very  circuitous 
route,  by  way  of  Colmenar  Vie  jo  and  through  hills  with  startling 
rock  formations  in  which  each  boulder  suggested  the  shape  of  some 
animal  or  object.  The  sun  beat  down  mercilessly.  Within  many 
miles  of  the  area  of  combat  the  olive  groves  were  filled  with  more 
military  equipment  than  I  had  ever  seen  in  Spain— tanks,  cannon, 
trucks  filled  with  oil  drums,  and  boxes  of  ammunition  covered  with 
branches  and  twigs.  Even  the  guards  had  leaves  sticking  in  their 
headgear  and  shoulder  straps.  Hostile  aircraft  was  overhead  most  of 
the  time. 

Villanueva  de  la  Canada  was  being  shelled  as  we  drove  in.  Every 
single  house  had  been  hit.  There  were  no  inhabitants  left  in  it.  Here 
a  roof  had  been  knocked  in,  here  a  wall  battered  down.  The  men 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  425 

told  me  that  they  were  shelling  the  enemy  and  the  enemy  was  shell- 
ing them.  At  first  I  could  not  distinguish  which  was  which,  but  in 
a  few  minutes  I  knew  when  the  Loyalists  were  firing  and  when  I 
had  to  duck  behind  a  wall. 

If  we  followed  the  road  till  we  got  to  a  pond  and  then  along  the 
left  side  of  a  cemetery  we  would  reach  Brunete  where  an  attack  was 
now  proceeding,  the  soldiers  informed  us.  My  chauffeur  suddenly 
developed  an  interest  in  his  car,  and  he  did  not  know  whether  he 
would  have  enough  gas.  This  was  an  old  story;  drivers  always  slowed 
up  as  they  approached  the  front  but  never  carried  complaint  to  the 
point  of  refusal.  On  the  edge  of  Brunete  I  got  out  and  walked.  Sol- 
diers behind  a  hill  said  everything  was  quiet;  only  a  little  activity  in 
the  air  which  apparently  did  not  bother  them  for  they  were  on  the 
lee  of  the  hill.  I  asked  about  Americans  and  they  thought  I  might 
find  some  in  the  town.  All  the  streets  were  empty.  I  looked  into  two 
houses  and  they  were  empty.  The  third  was  a  farmer's  hut.  As  I 
walked  in  I  called  out  in  Spanish,  "Are  there  any  Americans  here?" 
and  then  I  heard,  'Teh,  whatchya  lookin'  for?" 

A  young  man  in  tin  helmet  and  khaki  uniform  was  sitting  on  a 
pile  of  large  tins— jam  captured  from  Franco,  writing  a  letter.  I  in- 
troduced myself  and  he  asked:  "Of  The  Nation?"  He  introduced 
himself.  He  had  worked  on  the  main  crane  at  the  Republic  Steel 
works  in  Chicago.  How  was  the  Little  Steel  strike  going,  he  wanted 
to  know.  I  disclosed  what  I  had  read  and  then  he  continued  the 
story.  He  inquired  about  the  new  Negrin  government.  Would  it 
be  energetic?  The  Spaniards  behaved  like  "namby-pambies."  So  far, 
he  said,  the  offensive  had  been  "so-so."  Whenever  hard  fighting 
had  to  be  done  they  threw  in  the  International  Brigade. 

We  went  out  into  the  yard  to  listen  to  the  shelling.  We  heard 
sharp  machine  gunning.  About  a  half  mile  to  the  west  of  us,  an  air- 
plane dove  to  earth.  "They're  strafing  our  men  in  the  trenches  out 
there,"  the  crane  driver  explained.  A  moment  later  a  second  air- 
plane dove  and  then  a  third.  I  stood  up  on  a  box  to  get  a  better  view. 
He  pulled  me  down  and  into  the  house.  "Hey,"  he  exclaimed,  "in 
two  seconds  it  could  be  over  us." 

The  heat  was  breathtaking  and  flies  and  bees  buzzed  around  the 
jam  cans.  I  suggested  that  he  finish  the  letter  and  let  me  take  it  with 
me.  I  would  be  in  Paris  in  three  days.  His  eyes  said,  "Lucky  guy." 

"But  I  haven't  got  -an  envelope,"  he  replied. 

I  suggested  that  he  write  the  address  on  the  letter  and  I  would  put 


426      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

it  into  the  envelope  in  Paris.  Before  I  mailed  it  I  did  an  improper 
thing  and  read  the  letter.  It  was  about  eight  lines  long  and  it  read 
something  like  this: 

DEAR  SWEETHEART, 

Your  last  letter  worries  me.  You  are  getting  thin.  You  don't  eat  enough. 
You  must  not  get  thin.  Please  promise  me  that.  I  don't  want  you  to  be 
sick.  How  much  do  you  weigh  now?  Please  write  often.  I'm  OKay. 

Love  and  kisses.  .  .  . 

As  I  drove  back  into  Madrid  at  about  six  in  the  evening,  Negrin 
in  a  car  packed  tight  with  assistants,  and  followed  by  another  auto- 
mobile, passed  on  the  way  to  the  front.  His  staff  did  not  allow  him 
to  go  to  the  front  during  the  height  of  day  when  he  would  have  to 
be  dodging  airplanes.  The  next  morning  I  had  breakfast  with  him 
in  the  Presidencia.  He  said  he  was  satisfied  with  the  progress  of 
the  battle.  The  troops  were  becoming  seasoned  and  learning  to  use 
the  new  material.  We  also  discussed  the  political  situation.  He  told 
me  he  wanted  to  move  the  capital  from  Valencia  to  Barcelona.  But 
Azafia  and  Prieto  were  opposed. 

My  first  reaction  was,  "In  Catalonia  you  will  have  no  political 
support.  The  Socialist  party  there  is  too  weak." 

He  replied,  <fYes,  but  I  will  find  the  support.  We  will  enlarge 
the  Vanguardia  [official  organ  of  the  government]  into  an  attractive 
big-circulation  newspaper.  Moreover,  people  will  judge  us  by  our 
acts.  But  the  important  consideration  is  that  unless  Catalonia  par- 
ticipates more  actively  in  the  war  we  cannot  win  it." 

Wags  in  Madrid  said  that  the  only  state  which  really  practiced 
Non-Intervention  was  Catalonia.  This  was  not  strictly  true,  but  it 
was  true  enough  to  be  a  terrific  handicap.  Catalonia  did  not  pull  its 
weight.  Catalonia  was  the  largest  Loyalist  industrial  center.  But  it 
had  not  mobilized  its  resources  for  war.  It  had  not,  actually,  gone 
to  war. 

Two  factors  made  this  possible,  Catalan  separatism  and  Anarchist 
policy.  Spain  was  becoming  a  nation  but  Catalonia,  with  a  strong 
nationalist  tradition  of  its  own,  lagged  behind  the  other  provinces. 
Catalans  even  had  the  effrontery  and  indelicacy  to  paste  up  a  poster 
in  Madrid  showing  a  map  of  the  fighting  in  Barcelona  in  July,  1936, 
and  saying  in  the  appended  text  that  now  it  was  Madrid's  turn  to 
display  the  same  heroism.  But  Barcelona's  epic  lasted  three  days  and 
then  the  same  old  light-heartedness  returned.  Madrid  had  been  suf- 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  427 

fering  for  twelve  months  with  very  little  help  from  Catalonia.  In- 
deed, the  Catalans  obstructed  the  war  effort. 

Catalonia  was  the  traditional  Spanish  hearth  of  anarchism.  The 
Anarchists  were  romantic  revolutionists  and  therefore  never  got 
anywhere.  Revolution  without  discipline  is  chaos.  (With  too  much 
discipline  it  is  death.)  The  Anarchists  objected  on  principle  to  disci- 
pline. Their  worship  of  egalitarianism  was  so  dogmatic  that  Durum, 
even  when  he  was  commanding  thousands  of  men  at  the  front,  had 
to  waste  .his  time  standing  in  line,  plate  in  hand,  for  his  stew. 

Many  Anarchists,  opposed  to  government  of  any  kind,  objected 
to  participation  in  the  Loyalist  government  which  they  regarded 
$s  reactionary.  Towards  the  end  of  1936,  Caballero  took  the  An- 
archists into  his  cabinet.  He  suspected  them.  When  I  saw  him  in 
Valencia  in  December,  1936,  he  pointed  to  several  hand  grenades 
on  his  mantelpiece  and  said,  "You  see  those.  The  Anarchists  are 
manufacturing  them  for  themselves,  perhaps  for  fighting  against 
some  of  our  own  people,  but  they  do  not  send  them  to  the  front. 
They  hold  up  munitions  that  come  in  from  France  or  by  sea.  They 
have  seized  tanks  which  we  need  at  Madrid."  Nevertheless,  Caballero 
on  occasions  tried  to  pky  off  the  Anarchists  against  the  Communists. 
That  is  politics.  Even  war  does  not  stop  it. 

The  Catalan  Anarchists  controlled  transport  from  the  French  bor- 
der to  the  rest  of  Spain.  General  Grishin,  the  Soviet  Chief  of  Staff 
in  Spain,  told  me  that  when  the  Anarchists  agreed  to  collaborate 
and  bring  materiel  through,  they  were  quick,  reliable,  and  faithful 
to  their  promises.  But  it  was  difficult  to  get  them  to  promise. 

In  January,  1937, 1  had  a  long  talk  with  Garcia  Oliver,  Anarchist 
Minister  of  Justice  in  Caballero's  cabinet.  Madame  del  Vayo  inter- 
preted for  me.  We  discussed  every  conceivable  political  topic,  and 
then,  out  of  politeness,  I  asked  him  about  the  work  of  his  ministry. 
He  said,  "I  have  organized  an  artillery  school."  An  artillery  school 
in  the  Ministry  of  Justice!  It  was,  of  course,  a  school  for  Anarchists. 
There  were  other  army  artillery  schools.  Garcia  Oliver  got  them 
guns  for  training  purposes. 

I  once  met  Garcia  Oliver  in  Paris.  He  went  there  to  buy  arms  for 
his  party.  He  had  the  money  from  the  proceeds  of  Catalan  exports 
which,  by  law,  should  have  gone  into  the  federal  treasury.  To  stop 
such  traffic,  Negrin,  as  Finance  Minister,  created  a  corps  of  Cara- 
bineros  who  patrolled  ports  and  frontiers. 

The  Anarchists  were  romantic  in  their  ideas  but  hardboiled  and 


428      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

tough  in  practice,  and  it  was  difficult  to  handle  them.  The  root  of 
the  trouble  was  their  approach  to  politics.  They  wanted  an  imme- 
diate social  revolution  in  Spain  and  meanwhile  they  neglected  the 
war  against  Franco.  They  kept  their  arms  and  their  men  for  the 
revolution  while  Franco  won  victories  which  would  wipe  out  all 
social  gains. 

This  attitude  bore  bloody  fruit  in  the  May,  1937,  uprising  in  Bar- 
celona. Anarchist  dissidents,  working  with  the  POUM,  tried  to  cap- 
ture the  city.  It  was  definitely  a  move  against  the  central  Loyalist 
government  and  intended  as  such.  A  POUM  regiment  withdrew 
from  the  front,  against  staff  orders,  and  moved  on  the  city.  Several 
hundred  men  were  killed  in  the  streets  and  more  wounded.  The 
insurrection  was  soon  suppressed.  Had  it  succeeded  it  would  have 
divided  Loyalist  Spain  to  Franco's  advantage. 

The  POUM  men  were  semi-Trotzkyists.  They  differed  with 
Trotzky  on  many  matters,  and  he  did  not  altogether  approve  of 
them.  But  they  were  near  to  Trotskyism,  and  the  Communists  iden- 
tified them  with  Trotzky. 

.  After  the  revolt  several  of  their  leaders  were  arrested.  Their  trial 
took  place  in  October,  1938.  They  were  accused  of  being  paid 
agents  of  Franco  and  of  plotting  to  kill  Prieto  and  two  Communist 
generals  in  the  Loyalist  army.  This  had  a  Moscow  Trial  ring.  The 
Spanish  Communist  Party  printed  a  book  of  documents  purporting 
to  prove  that  the  POUM  were  Fascists  in  the  employ  of  Franco.  A 
prominent  Soviet  citizen,  whose  name  I  do  not  mention  because  he 
may  still  be  alive  in  Russia,  told  me  in  Spain  at  the  time  that  the) 
documents  were  forged  by  the  Spanish  Communists.  The  accused 
were  given  a  fair  trial  with  adequate  defense.  They  denied  every- 
thing except  that  they  had,  together  with  the  Anarchists,  fomented 
the  May,  1937,  revolt.  Two  were  acquitted,  one  sentenced  to  eleven 
years'  imprisonment,  four  to  fifteen  years  in  prison.  They  were  all 
soon  released. 

It  was  in  order  to  put  Catalonia  to  work,  to  stamp  out  the  anarchy 
of  the  Anarchists  and  the  POUM,  and  to  be  nearer  France,  Loyalist 
Spain's  only  land  frontier,  that  Negrin  wanted  to  move  the  federal 
capital  to  Barcelona.  This  was  done  in  November,  1937.  ^  was  a 
stroke  of  genius:  it  made  continued  Loyalist  life  possible. 

Bitterly  opposed  to  the  tactics  of  the  Anarchists  and  the  POUM, 
Negrin  nevertheless  deeply  regretted  lawless  acts  against  POUM 
leaders.  Andres  Nin,  litde  POUM  leader  whom  I  had  known  in 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  429 

Moscow  when  he  was  Trotzky's  intimate  co-worker,  was  arrested 
and  interned  in  the  prison  at  Alcala  de  Henares.  Later  he  was  taken 
from  the  prison,  and  he  has  not  been  heard  of  since.  The  POUM 
said  Communists  kidnapped  him  and  shot  him.  The  Communists  said 
he  had  been  stolen  from  prison  by  his  followers  and  escaped  to  Paris. 
I  do  not  know  which  version  is  correct.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  he 
was  killed  in  Spain,  but  I  cannot  prove  it.  The  GPU  is  known  to 
have  assassinated  people  abroad,  and  a  Trotzkyist,  or  Trotzky  him- 
self, would  be  welcome  targets  for  their  revolvers.  Whatever  hap- 
pened, the  Loyalist  government  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Too  many 
armed  men  were  walking  about  Loyalist  Spain  for  one  government, 
torn  internally  and  bent  under  cruel  tasks,  to  hold  all  of  them  in 
check. 

Mark  Rein,  son  of  the  Russian  Menshevik  leader  Abramovitch, 
also  disappeared  mysteriously  in  Spain.  Negrin  gave  every  facility 
to  those  who  conducted  the  unsuccessful  search  for  Rein,  and  apolo- 
gized and  tried  to  make  amends  for  the  tragedy.  Abramovitch  him- 
self came  to  Spain  twice  and  the  Loyalist  authorities  assisted  him  in 
his  vain  quest. 

Another  unsolved  Spanish  war  mystery  is  the  case  of  Jos6  Robles, 
Professor  of  Spanish  Literature  at  Johns  Hopkins  University.  When 
the  civil  war  broke  out  he  was  spending  the  summer  in  Spain  with 
his  family,  and  he  immediately  offered  his  services  to  the  Loyalists. 
He  had  never  belonged  to  any  party  and  never  participated  in  politi- 
cal life.  In  October,  1936,  and  later,  he  worked  as  English  interpreter 
for  General  Goriev,  the  Soviet  officer  in  command  at  Madrid.  Goriev 
trusted  him.  Robles  had  a  fine  open  face  and  pleasant  personality, 
and  looked  the  disinterested  idealist. 

In  the  spring  of  1937,  a  story  was  circulated  in  Valencia  that  he 
had  been  shot  as  a  spy.  He  was  not  shot  by  the  government,  anid 
I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  shot,  but  he  vanished  at  about  that 
time  without  leaving  a  trace.  People  affirmed  that  he  had  been  smug- 
gled out  of  Spain  against  his  will  and  taken  by  boat  to  Russia.  Whis- 
pers said  he  had  talked  too  much  and  revealed  military  secrets  in 
Madrid  caf£s.  If  that  could  have  been  proved  it  might  have  war- 
ranted turning  him  over  to  the  Spanish  government  for  trial,  but 
not  taking  him  for  a  ride.  American  friends  of  Robles,  notably  John 
Dos  Passos,  have  interested  themselves  in  the  case  but  have  not  been 
able  to  establish  the  facts.  A  careful  investigation  was  impossible. 


430      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  anti-Communists  attribute  Robles'  disappearance  to  the  Com- 
munists. 

This  accusation  notwithstanding,  Robles'  young  daughter  joined 
the  Spanish  Communist  youth  organization  and  came  to  America  in 
1938  as  a  member  of  its  delegation  to  the  Youth  Congress.  Robles' 
son,  aged  18,  also  worked  with  the  Communists.  He  was  employed 
for  a  time  by  Constancia  de  la  Mora  in  the  press  department  of  the 
Foreign  Office,  but  finding  this  too  tame  he  volunteered  for  guer- 
rilla fighting  behind  Franco's  lines  and  operated  with  a  band  of 
brave  partisans  who  slipped  into  the  rebel-held  city  of  Saragossa  to 
set  fires,  bomb  electric  power  stations,  and  otherwise  harass  the 
enemy.  In  1938,  the  rebels  caught  him  and  sentenced  him  to  death. 
Mrs.  Robles  and  her  daughter  are  now  in  Mexico.  They  do  not 
know  whether  the  boy  has  been  executed,  and  they  naturally  can- 
not altogether  abandon  the  slim  hope  of  seeing  Professor  Robles 
again. 

Whenever  the  question  of  Nin  or  Rein  or  Robles  came  up  for  dis- 
cussion Negrin  was  mortified.  When  his  administration  was  inaugu- 
rated he  quickly  clamped  down  on  illegal  acts.  Superfluous  pickets 
on  roads  were  suppressed,  and  guard  duty  taken  over  by  his  trusted 
Carabineros.  In  1936,  arbitrary  shootings  were  frequent.  But  in  the 
early  months  of  1937,  they  became  the  exception.  Nin,  Rein,  and 
Robles  were  isolated  and  regretted  instances  of  an  evil  war-time 
phenomenon  that  had  been  wiped  out  by  the  middle  of  1937. 

I  returned  to  Paris  early  on  the  morning  of  July  14,  the  national 
holiday  of  the  Third  Republic.  Lines  of  armored  cars,  big  tanks, 
and  small  tanks  filled  the  streets.  I  went  to  the  Champs  Elysees  to 
view  the  annual  parade.  Squadrons  of  airplanes  flew  overhead. 
Frenchmen  applauded.  Then  the  army  marched;  "the  best  army  in 
Europe,"  officials  called  it.  French  regulars,  Cadets,  Zouaves  in  color- 
ful costumes,  Senegalese  black  troops  in  khaki  and  red  fez,  Moroccan 
cavalry,  artillery,  machine  guns,  light  machine  guns,  rifles.  Twenty 
percent  of  the  military  establishment  that  paraded  that  morning 
would  have  enabled  the  Loyalists  to  win  the  war  in  three  months. 

But  the  French  said  they  did  not  want  to  interfere  "in  other  peo- 
ple's wars."  I  spoke  to  deputies  and  journalists.  "This  is  your  war," 
I  argue.  "Fight  it  in  Spain.  Otherwise  it  will  come  to  France." 

"No,"  they  replied,  "we  will  keep  our  arms  for  ourselves." 

The  Fall  of  France.  The  Tragedy  of  France.  Many  books  have 


THE  SINS  OF  DEMOCRACY  431 

been  written  on  the  subject.  It  did  not  begin  when  Hitler's  Panzer 
divisions  crashed  into  French  territory.  It  began  at  Versailles.  It  be- 
gan in  the  Ruhr.  It  began  on  March  7,  1936,  when  Hitler  remili- 
tarized the  Rhineland.  It  continued  in  1937  and  1938,  when  France 
and  England  starved  the  Spanish  Republic. 

In  1940, 1  heard  a  broadcast  to  America  from  Paris  by  L6on  Blum, 
French  leader.  "Des  Avions  pour  La  France,"  he  begged.  But  in  1936 
and  1937,  when  Blum  was  Premier  of  France,  friends  of  France  and 
of  Spain  begged,  "Des  Avions  pour  TEspagne."  Blum  said  No.  Dala- 
dier,  his  successor,  said  No.  That  was  the  tragedy  of  France. 

It  was  right  that  America  sell  airplanes  to  an  embattled  France. 
It  was  good  for  American  defense.  But  why  did  not  France  sell 
arms  to  Spain?  Spain  is  nearer  to  France  than  France  to  America. 
Free  France  did  not  die  because  it  was  weak.  It  became  weak  be- 
cause it  was  blind.  It  did  not  see  that  it  had  commenced  to  die  when 
Hitler  became  Chancellor,  when  Mussolini  violated  Abyssinia,  and 
when  Franco  brought  the  Moors  across  the  Straits  and  Nazi  bombers 
across  France.  I  think  I  know  why. 


25.  Black  Moscow 

I  HAD  not  seen  my  family  for  seven  months,  and  so  I  went  to 
Moscow  in  August,  1937. 
Red  had  ceased  to  be  the  correct  adjective  for  Moscow.  It  was 
black. 

Whenever  I  was  not  in  a  log  cabin  in  the  pine  woods  outside  Mos- 
cow I  sat  on  the  balcony  in  shorts  taking  the  sun.  On  a  balcony  near 
by  sat  another  man,  an  important  Soviet  official.  He  had  a  large 
apartment.  He  had  had  his  own  official  car.  He  was  waiting  on  the 
balcony  to  be  arrested.  His  little  bundle  of  clothing  and  toilet  articles 
was  packed  in  readiness  for  the  GPU's  nocturnal-  visit.  Waiting  was 
Trilling  him.  He  waited  three  more  weeks  while  the  GPU  watched 
and  while  his  wife  wasted  away.  Then  the  GPU  came. 

He  was  one  of  thousands.  We  lived  in  an  eight-story  apartment 
house  with  eight  entrances  and  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  apart- 
ments. The  GPU  had  laid  its  hand  on  more  than  half  of  them.  And 
our  house  was  no  exception. 

Despite  the  cheering  sun,  heavy,  gloom  pervaded  Moscow.  Friends 
and  acquaintances  did  not  want  to  meet  one  another.  How  could 
anyone  know  who  was  under  surveillance?  You  might  be  incrimi- 
nated by  associating  with  a  person  who  was  scheduled  to  be  arrested 
in  a  fortnight  and  in  the  meantime  was  being  shadowed.  People  with- 
drew into  themselves  and  the  family  circle.  But  could  you  be  sure 
about  members  of  the  family?  The  press  reported  denunciations  of 
arrested  husbands  by  their  wives,  and  denunciations  by  children  of  ' 
their  arrested  parents.  Then  perhaps  it  would  be  better  not  to  share 
all  one's  troubles,  worries,  and  impressions  with  the  wife  or  with 
one's  grown-up  son. 

The  newspapers  were  dull  where  they  had  always  been  exciting. 
They  gave  less  attention  to  f  oreign  news,  and  an  endless  amount  of 
space  to  the  names  of  tractor  drivers,  cow  hands,  beet  harvesters, 
and  locomotive  drivers  who  had  won  decorations  for  distinguished 
services.  The  phenomenon  of  giving  public  praise  to  common  men 
was  highly  laudable.  But  when  several  times  a  week  one  or  two  pages 

432 


BLACK  MOSCOW  433 

of  an  eight-page  newspaper  were  devoted  to  these  lists,  citizens 
yawned  and  threw  the  paper  away  after  a  few  minutes. 

Reading  had  been  a  great  Soviet  pleasure.  But  some  writers  had 
been  arrested,  and  the  others  felt  that  it  was  safer  not  to  write.  "Bet- 
ter not"  became  the  rule  of  conduct.  Bureaucratic  fear  of  responsi- 
bility paralyzed  initiative.  When  an  official  was  asked  his  opinion  of 
a  project  he  most  frequently  refrained  from  a  positive  recommenda- 
tion lest  its  failure  be  pinned  on  him.  He  would  say,  "I  have  no  ob- 
jection." That  was  the  old  formula  of  Czarist  officials. 

Into  this  deadening  atmosphere  of  dread,  the  GPU  threw  a  spy 
scare.  The  Soviet  newspapers  published  an  unending  chain  of  articles 
by  GPU  "experts"  on  spies.  Foreign  governments,  they  explained, 
had  innumerable  spies  in  Russia.  Many  Russians  had  emigrated  from 
Russia  before  the  Revolution.  The  secret  services  of  foreign  coun- 
tries had  them  in  their  grip.  They  wrote  to  their  relatives  in  Soviet 
Russia  and  their  relatives  wrote  back,  and  how  did  you  know  when 
you  wrote  back  you  had  not  revealed  important  information  to  the 
enemy?  Russians  stopped  all  communication  with  foreign  countries 
and  with  foreigners  inside.  Foreign  scientific  journals  were  kept  from 
Soviet  universities.  Soviet  scientists  were  discouraged  from  attending 
international  scientific  congresses. 

American  Communists  who  h^d  lived  in  Soviet  Russia  for  a  long 
time  were  clearing  out,  first  because  the  Bolsheviks  did  not  want 
them  to  stay,  and  also  because  they  themselves  had  had  enough.  By 
this  time  most  Polish,  Hungarian,  and  German  Communists  had  been 
arrested.  A  German  Communist  friend  of  mine  discussed  this,  in- 
formally, with  a  GPU  official  who  was  a  friend  of  hers.  He  said,  "If 
German  Communists  are  ready  to  build  socialism  in  Germany  they 
can  do  it  in  Siberia  too."  The  revolutionary  attitude  towards  for- 
eign Communists  had  given  way  to  this  ugly  cynicism.  Yet  the  Soviet 
'Constitution  gave  "the  right  of  asylum  to  foreign  citizens  perse- 
cuted for  furthering  the  interest  of  workers."  But  then  it  also  guar- 
anteed the  "inviolability  of  homes  and  the  secrecy  of  correspond- 
ence," as  well  as  the  "inviolability  of  persons."  The  GPU  spat  on 
all  these  rights.  If  it  wished  to  seize  anyone  it  did.  If  it  wished  to 
enter  a  home  it  did  so.  Never  in  Soviet  history  had  insecurity  been 
greater  than  in  the  summer  of  1937. 

The  year  1937  had  begun  with  a  sensational  trial  of  leading  Bol- 
sheviks—Piatakov,  until  his  arrest  assistant  chief  of  the  Soviet  indus- 
trial system  and  for  many  years  an  outstanding  Bolshevik,  Radek, 


434      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

noted  publicist,  Sololnikov,  member  of  the  inner  Bolshevik  group 
which  staged  the  Revolution  in  1917,  former  Finance  Commissar, 
former  Ambassador  to  London,  once  Stalin's  candidate  for  Soviet 
representative  to  the  League  of  Nations,  Serebyakov,  another  Bol- 
shevik veteran  and  front-rank  industrialist,  together  with  thirteen 
others.  They  were  accused  of  "wrecking,"  of  espionage  on  behalf 
of  foreign  powers  and  Trotzky,  and  of  plotting  to  kill  Soviet  leaders. 

Radek  had  been  foreign  editor  of  the  government  newspaper,  /z- 
vestia.  He  ran  a  bureau  in  the  party's  Central  Committee  which  sup- 
plied Stalin  with  information  on  the  international  situation.  When 
Radek  was  arrested  his  associates  in  these  undertakings  were  purged. 
For  they  might  have  known  about  his  "counter-revolutionary"  ac- 
tivities. Izvestia  became  still  duller. 

Sokolnikov's  wife  was  the  former  wife  of  Serebyakov.  She  was 
a  prominent  author  who  wrote  under  the  name  of  Galina  Serebya- 
kova.  She  had  published  a  book  on  Karl  Marx's  youth  which  the 
Soviet  press  praised  highly.  When  Sokolnikov  was  arrested  she  dis- 
appeared and  her  book  was  condemned.  Friends  and  official  col- 
laborators of  Sokolnikov,  of  Serebyakov,  of  Piatakov,  and  of  every 
other  defendant  likewise  disappeared.  Piatakov  had  appointed  thou- 
sands of  factory  managers,  engineers,  inspectors.  Now  he  confessed 
treason:  he  had  conspired  with  Germany  and  Japan  to  wreck  the 
Soviet  regime,  tear  the  Ukraine  and  the  Far  Eastern  provinces  from 
Russia,  and  sabotage  Soviet  industry.  Many  workingmen  believed 
this  confession.  Then  they  had  to  say  to  themselves  that  he  probably" 
appointed  the  engineers  and  managers  to  assist  in  his  treachery.  Then 
these  engineers  and  managers  had  to  be  purged  else  faith  in  die  con- 
fessions and  trials  would  be  undermined.  Moreover,  if  the  engineer 
had  been  a  "wrecker"  his  friends  and  subordinates  became  suspect 
too.  He  could  not  sabotage  alone.  He  needed  helpers.  He  had  had 
confidants.  Who  were  they?  Livshitz,  a  defendant  in  the  Piatakov- 
Radek  trial,  admitted  to  having  staged  about  thirty-five  hundred 
railway  accidents.  He  needed  thousands  of  underlings  to  accomplish 
this  feat.  They  had  to  be  found  and  punished. 

Every  trial,  every  purge,  every  arrest  started  a  long  chain  of  more 
purges  and  more  arrests. 

Russia  had  lived  badly  since  1916.  It  had  made  innumerable  sacri- 
fices in  living  conditions  and  health.  Its  spirit  and  nerves  had  been 
subjected  to  heavy  strain.  The  Five  Year  Plan  and  agrarian  collegti- 
vization,  1929  to  1932,  redoubled  the  tension.  The  tension  was  not 


BLACK  MOSCOW  435 

relaxed  at  the  end  of  that  hard  period.  It  continued.  By  1935,  I  had 
an  almost  physical  sensation  that  the  Soviet  Union  was  simply  very 
tired.  It  wanted  to  sit  still.  It  wanted  to  eat  better,  live  better,  and 
be  left  alone.  It  did  not  wish  to  be  bombarded  each  day  with  radi- 
cal changes,  new  appeals,  new  demands.  There  was  a  great  yearn- 
ing for  silence  and  peace.  That  is  why  the  economic  improvement 
of  1935  and  1936  and  the  Constitution  of  1936  brought  so  much  joy. 
The  regime  had  turned  a  corner,  people  said.  And  that  is  why  the 
purges,  trials  and  intensified  terror  of  1937  and  1938  broke  so  many 
hearts.  "Will  it  never  end?*'  Soviet  citizens  asked. 

1916  to  1937— twenty-one  years  of  hardships,  turmoil,  and  spiritual 
travail.  Oh,  for  some  quiet  and  solace!  Women  I  knew,  fine  intel- 
lectual women  with  government  jobs,  would  meet  after  hours  and 
just  drink  themselves  into  a  stupor.  Citizens  who  had  always  followed 
politics  at  home  and  abroad  with  keen  interest  escaped  into  apathy. 
Suicides  multiplied.  Youth  took  refuge  in  cynicism.  Everybody 
played  for  Safety  First.  Lying,  hypocrisy,  humiliating  obeisances, 
violence  towards  one's  deepest  convictions,  and  disloyalty  to  friends 
were  a  small  price  to  pay  for  keeping  out  of  prison.  To  divert  sus- 
picion from  yourself  you  accused  the  other  fellow.  You  yelled  loud- 
est at  meetings  when  resolutions  were  voted  calling  on  the  govern- 
ment to  execute  Piatakov,  Radek,  and  their  accomplices.  When 
Stalin's  name  was  mentioned  you  applauded,  and  you  did  not  dare 
to  stop  even  though  it  might  go  on  for  ten  minutes. 

It  seemed  that  the  country  had  lost  the  capacity  to  be  shocked. 
If  Lenin's  closest  collaborators  could  be  shot,  if  Radek  who  had  led 
the  newspaper  cheering  for  Stalin  could  get  ten  years  for  plotting 
to  kill  Stalin,  then  anything  could  happen.  Yet  nobody  was  prepared 
for  the  sharpest  shock  of  all.  On  June  12,  1937,  Assistant  Commis- 
sar of  War  and  Chief  of  Staff  and  Marshal  of  the  Red  Army,  M. 
Tukhachevsky,  hero  at  twenty-seven  of  the  great  advance  on  War- 
saw in  1920,  was  executed  for  treason.  With  him  were  executed 
seven  other  of  the  highest  generals  in  the  army.  General  Gamarnik, 
also  of  the  supreme  comipand,  committed  suicide,  the  papers  said, 
when  the  police  came  to  fetch  him.  The  nine  generals  had  partici- 
pated, the  official  announcement  read,  in  a  "military-fascist  organi- 
zation" connected  with  a  foreign  power,  understood  to  be  Germany. 
They  wanted  a  pact  with  the  Nazis.  The  published  statement  said 
they  confessed  to  all  this,  although  their  trial  was  a  secret  court  mar- 
tial. They  were  tried  by  a  special  high  court  of  eight  military  leaders. 


436      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

At  least  three  of  these  eight  are  known  to  have  been  executed  for 
treason  since  then. 

The  execution  of  Tukhachevsky  and  the  generals  amounted  to 
the  decapitation  of  the  Red  Army.  Tukhachevsky  was  first  demoted 
on  May  u,  1937,  ^^  sent  to  tte  Volga  district  as  a  regional  com- 
mander. Stalin  was  preparing  the  army  for  the  removal  of  its  leaders. 
Within  a  fortnight  Tukhachevsky  was  brought  back  to  Moscow  for 
secret  trial.  The  decree  of  May  n  announcing  his  demotion  con-' 
tained  a  second  important  order;  political  commissars  were  reintro- 
duced  into  the  army.  During  the  Soviet  civil  war  in  1917-1921, 
the  Bolsheviks,  compelled  to  create  an  army  quickly,  enlisted  the  aid 
of  Czarist  officers.  They  could  lead  troops  but  politically  they  were 
untrustworthy,  and  so  the  Bolsheviks  attached  a  political  commissar 
to  each  Czarist  officer.  The  commissar  watched  the  officer  and  also 
conducted  Soviet  propaganda  among  the  soldiers.  When  peace  came 
in  1921  the  commissars  themselves  took  military  courses.  Also,  young 
men  who  had  matured  since  the  Revolution  and  were  reliable  po- 
litically entered  the  military  academies.  Professional  knowledge  and 
political  loyalty  were  then  combined  in  one  and  the  same  person, 
and  commissars  were  accordingly  abolished.  Now,  when  Tukha- 
chevsky was  about  to  be  purged,  Stalin  reintroduced  the  system  of 
commissars.  Pravda  stated  that  the  commissars  "are  the  eyes  and  ears 
of  the  Communist  party  in  the  army."  This  meant  that  Stalin  sus- 
pected the  officers  of  loyalty  to  Tukhachevsky  and  put  in  his  own 
henchmen  to  spy  on  them.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  many 
of  these  suspected  officers  were  arrested  at  the  time  of  the  execu- 
tion of  the  generals.  The  estimated  number  of  officers  arrested  is 
thirty  thousand.  It  was  a  holocaust,  and  it  affected  the  quality  of  the 
army  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Officers  are  not  manufactured  over- 
night. 

Tukhachevsky  had  been  abroad  the  year  before  his  death  and 
made  a  good  impression  on  the  British  and  French  General  Staffs. 
When  he  and  his  comrades  were  shot  the  efficiency  and  striking 
power  of  the  Red  Army  were,  marked  down  by  foreign  experts.  The 
trials  and  the  purges  also  shook  the  foreign  friends  of  the  Soviet 
regime  and  many  turned  away  from  it. 

Literally  a  massacre  of  Soviet  talent  occurred  in  1937.  The  mere 
arrest  of  a  man  was  scarcely  noticed.  Most  of  the  people  purged 
simply  disappeared.  They  may  have  been  shot.  They  may  still  be 
in  prison  or  exile.  Thousands  of  victims  are  still  unaccounted  for, 


BLACK  MOSCOW  437 

and  their  families  probably  still  hope.  Take  the  case  of  my  friend 
Marcel  Rosenberg,  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Spain.  He  was  recalled  in 
February,  1937.  Rumor  had  it  that  he  was  executed.  But  I  met  him 
in  the  Metropole  Caf6  during  my  August,  1937,  visit  to  Moscow. 
He  told  me  he  had  been  appointed  to  represent  the  Foreign  Office 
in  Tiflis.  But  he  never  occupied  that  post,  and  he  has  been  "lost" 
since  1937.  Is  he  dead?  Who  knows?  His  family  does  not  know. 
This  uncertainty  is  one  of  the  most  harrowing  features  of  the  Soviet 
purges. 

Only  a  small  proportion  of  arrests  and  executions  were  ever  re- 
corded in  the  Soviet  press.  I  have  myself  checked  several  Soviet  pro- 
vincial dailies  for  May  to  December,  1937,  inclusive.  They  list  1,313 
executions  in  the  districts  they  serve.  The  Moscow  papers,  much 
more  circumspect,  list  only  thirty-four  during  the  same  period  al- 
though the  figure  must  have  run  into  thousands. 

On  January  19,  1937,  Bukharin,  editor  of  Izvestia,-  beloved  of 
Lenin  and  the  entire  Soviet  youth,  leading  Bolshevik  theoretician, 
was  dismissed.  The  Great  Soviet  Encyclopedia  said  of  him  that  he 
was  "one  of  the  leading  participants  in  the  1917  Revolution,  a  dis- 
tinguished theoretician  of  Communism."  His  arrest  in  January,  1937, 
was  the  first  step  to  his  trial  for  'Tascist  treason'*  in  April,  1938,  and 
his  death  sentence. 

On  March  5,  1937,  G.  Smirnov  was  appointed  chairman  of  the 
State  Planning  Commission.  That  is  the  only  indirect  notice  the 
world  has  had  of  the  purge  of  Mezhlauk.  Valeri  Mezhlauk,  young 
teacher  of  Greek  and  Latin  before  the  Revolution,  soon  rose  to  high 
rank  when  the  Soviets  came  to  power.  He  came  to  America  to  nego- 
tiate important  contracts  with  Henry  Ford  and  Owen  D.  Young, 
He  was  recognized  as  one  of  the  outstanding  industrialists  of  Rus- 
sia. At  the  time  of  his  purge  he  was  Assistant  Prime  Minister  of  the 
Soviet  Union  and  Chairman  of  the  State  Planning  Commission,  the 
general  staff  of  the  entire  economic  system.  He  has  disappeared.  No- 
body knows  what  happened.  It  is  as  if  a  Knudsen  or  Owen  D.  Young 
had  vanished  one  night  and  was  never  heard  of  again  though  years 
passed.  Mezhlauk's  brother,  also  a  prominent  industrialist,  has  also 
disappeared. 

On  March  15,  Gregory  Kaminsky,  Commissar  of  Health,  was  re- 
moved from  office.  Since  he  was  not  at  the  same  time  appointed  to 
another  job— the  normal  Soviet  procedure— he  was  assumed  to  have 
been  purged.  He  is  another  of  the  missing.  On  March  19,  1957,  Pos- 


438      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

tishev,  second  Bolshevik  of  the  Ukraine,  was  demoted.  Later  he  was 
purged.  On  March  28,  Krestinsky,  Litvinov's  assistant  in  the  For- 
eign Office,  was  appointed  assistant  Commissar  of  Justice.  This  was 
another  method  of  initiating  a  purge.  In  June  he  was  arrested.  In 
1938,  he  was  tried  and  sentenced  to  death. 

You  had  to  know  how  to  read  the  press.  Anyone  branded  "an 
enemy  of  the  people"  had  been  arrested  although  the  press  did  not 
say  so.  If  a  new  book  was  subjected  to  bitter  political  attack  the 
author  had  probably  been  purged.  Experience  taught  that  most  of 
these  "probabilities"  received  subsequent  confirmation.  In  April, 
1937,  Kalmanovitch,  Commissar  of  State  Farms,  was  purged.  At  the 
same  time,  the  President  of  the  State  Bank,  the  Soviet  bank  of  issue, 
was  arrested. 

In  May,  Kirshon,  a  prominent  Soviet  playwright,  was  tried  and 
has  not  since  been  heard  from.  Two  locomotive  drivers  were  shot 
for  deliberately  causing  train  wrecks;  forty-four  were  shot  and  many 
more  arrested  in  Siberia  for  espionage  in  the  pay  of  Japan;  twenty- 
two  shot  for  a  train  wreck  in  Georgia.  All  the  high  officials  of  the 
trade-union  movement  except  Shvernik  were  arrested. 

The  budget  for  June,  1937:  Cherviakov,  the  President  of  the  White 
Russian  government,  "committed  suicide."  By  a  "coincidence,"  the 
"whole  government  of  White  Russia,  was  simultaneously  arrested.  The 
Commissar  of  Social  Welfare  of  the  Crimea,  and  Unschlicht,  the 
acting  secretary  of  the  Federal  Central  Executive  Committee,  like- 
wise disappeared  that  month.  The  president  of  the  Far  Eastern  Coal 
Trust,  the  head  of  the  Suchan  coal  mines,  the  head  of  the  Far  East- 
ern timber  trust,  and  unnamed  others  were  publicly  accused  of 
"wrecking"  which  was  tantamount  to  a  death  sentence.  Also:  the 
apartment  of  Lapinsky  (Mikhalsky),  prominent  Soviet  journalist, 
well-known  in  Washington  and  New  York,  was  searched;  he  had 
been  arrested  and  is  still  missing.  A  new  assistant  commissar  of  the 
defense  industries  was  appointed.  Ergo,  his  predecessor  is  no  more. 
Ruzdutak,  of  the  Bolshevik  big  ten,  arrested;  later  executed.  As- 
sistant Foreign  Commissar  Leo  Karakhan,  arrested;  later  executed. 
Thirty  party  officials  in  Rostov  arrested.  Trials  of  "Trotzkyist 
wreckers"  in  Tashkent,  Tomsk,  Archangel,  and  other  cities.  Thirty- 
six  employees  of  the  Siberian  railway  shot.  I  omit  many  more. 

July:  Doletzky,  for  many  years  the  director  of  TASS,  the  Soviet 
telegraphic  agency,  and  his  assistants  accused  by  a  provincial  paper 
of  being  "Trotzkyist  bandits  and  Fascist  agents."  The  translation  of 


BLACK  MOSCOW  439 

that  is  "executed."  It  is  said  Doletzky  shot  himself  when  the  GPU 
knocked  at  his  door  in  the  night.  Assistant  Commissar  of  Finance 
Maryasin,  arrested  for  "sabotage."  Budu  Mdivani,  old  Georgian  Bol- 
shevik and  ancient  enemy  of  Stalin,  executed  with  seven  associates. 
Feinberg,  Ilinsky,  Lukyatov,  popular  Youth  League  leaders,  charged 
with  being  "enemies  of  the  people."  That  meant  they  were  shot. 
Later  their  successors  were  arrested.  Twenty-two  more  employees 
of  the  Trans-Siberian  railway  officially  announced  as  executed.  Like- 
wise executed:  sixty-four  officials  in  the  Far  East  charged  with  aid 
to  Japan.  Finnish  Soviet  writers  denounced  for  nationalism;  their  fate 
is  hardly  to  be  doubted.  Several  dozen  "mass  trials"— ten  to  thirty 
defendants  each— are  being  held  in  various  parts  of  the  country.  Each 
results  in  a  large  proportion  of  death  sentences. 

August,  1937— the  month  I  spent  in  Moscow:  Kraval,  assistant 
chairman  of  the  State  Planning  Commission,  Troitzky,  chief  of  the 
Financial  Plan,  and  ten  other  heads  of  departments  who  worked  with 
Valeri  Mezhlauk,  excoriated  as  "enemies  of  the  people."  A  bkck 
shroud  covers  their  fate.  Seventy-two  shot  in  Irkutsk,  Siberia,  for 
train  wrecks.  Six  shot  in  Minsk,  White  Russia,  for  feeding  poisoned 
food  to  soldiers.  Thirty-four  more  executed  in  Irkutsk.  Eight  shot 
in  Leningrad  for  "counter-revolutionary  acts."  Pravda  attacks  Di- 
betz,  the  director  of  automobile  and  tractor  industry  of  the  entire 
country.  Since  then  no  more  has  been  heard  of  him.  Two  women 
shot  in  Leningrad  for  feeding  poisoned  food  to  children  in  schools. 
Hundreds  of  other  arrests  reported  in  the  papers  and  thousands  not 
so  reported. 

But  these  gruesome  facts  are  mere  child's  play  compared  with  the 
bloody  pogrom  which  blackened  the  face  of  Russia  in  the  fall  of 
1937  and  throughout  1938,  and  which  continues  to  this  day  under 
a  thick  veil  of  secrecy  lifted  only  occasionally  by  the  Kremlin  or 
penetrated  by  stray  bits  of  information  which  reach  outsiders. 

For  years  I  had  been  on  warm  terms  with  many  Russians.  One  of 
them  would  phone  and  say,  "What  are  you  doing  this  evening?" 
and  if  I  said  I  was  reading  or  working,  he  might  say,  "Why  dpat't 
you  come  over?"  or  I  would  suggest  he  come  to  me,  or  we  might 
compromise  on  a  caf 6.  These  Russians  often  told  me  their  inner- 
most political  views  because  a  man  has  to  talk  when  his  heart  is  full 
and  they  preferred  to  talk  to  one  who,  unlike  Soviet  citizens,  was 
under  no  obligation  to  reveal  secrets.  (The  moment  a  Russian  is 
arrested  his  intimates  and  acquaintances  are  expected  to  go  to  the 


440      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

GPU  and  report  everything  incriminating  they  know  about  him.) 
Several  of  these  dear  friends  of  mine  had  now  been  executed. 

A  man  has  spent  many  long  evenings  in  your  study  drinking  tea 
or  stretched  out  on  your  couch  telling  stories  or  boxing  with  your 
kids  in  their  room.  He  has  talked  to  you  of  his  ambitions  and  hopes, 
of  his  family  problems*  He  has  opened  his  soul.  Now  you  see  him, 
you  see  him  day  and  night,  walking  down  a  corridor  in  the  GPU 
prison  with  a  uniformed  guard  behind  him.  They  walk  to  the  cellar, 
the  guard  with  a  finger  on  his  revolver  trigger.  Your  friend  has 
walked  this  road  before  to  be  cross-examined  by  his  investigator.  And 
he  has  returned  to  his  cell.  It  has  happened  every  day  for  months. 
This  time  the  guard,  on  orders  from  above,  draws  the  revolver  and 
shoots  your  friend  through  the  back  of  the  neck— and  that  is  all.  That 
happened  to  many  of  my  friends,  and  I  still  see  their  faces. 

It  was  better  not  to  call  on  Soviet  friends  and  acquaintances.  The 
visit  of  a  foreigner  might  get  them  into  trouble.  Always,  literally 
always  in  the  past,  our  apartment  was  filled  with  Russians  when  I 
arrived  from  abroad.  They  came  just  to  welcome  me  back,  but  also 
to  get  the  latest  news  and  impressions  of  the  international  scene.  This 
time  nobody  came.  I  read  Lenin,  walked  the  streets,  and  played 
tennis. 

Litvinov  received  me  and  so  did  Dimitrov.  We  talked  only  about 
Spain  and  the  international  situation,  not  a  word  about  purges  or 
trials  or  declining  rates  of  Soviet  production.  Litvinov  complained 
that  the  Loyalists  never  won  battles.  They  advanced  and  then  re- 
tired. I  explained  the  difficulties:  a  new  army,  insufficient  equip- 
ment, new  officers.  Franco,  on  the  other  hand,  had  more  arms  than 
he  could  use.  Litvinov  asked  many  questions.  He  said  we  would  meet 
soon  again  in  Geneva  at  the  regular  League  session.  I  said,  "Negrin 
will  be  there  and  he  can  tell  you  more  than  I  can." 

Before  leaving  Spain  I  had  talked  with  Negrin  about  Communist 
party  politics.  I  had  told  him  I  would  soon  be  going  to  Moscow  to 
see  my  family.  He  said,  "Tell  the  people  there  to  call  off  the  Span- 
ish Communists  and  this  fusion  propaganda.  Our  Socialists  are  against 
it.  We  want  collaboration  with  the  Communists  but  we  wish  to 
retain  our  identity  as  a  separate  party." 

I  told  this  to  Litvinov  but  merely  that  he  might  know  about  it.  I 
told  it  to  Dimitrov  because  he  was  in  part  responsible  for  the  situa- 
tion and  might  countermand  the  Communist  instructions  for  the 
fusion  campaign.  "But  why  does  Negrin  object?"  Dimitrov  asked. 


BLACK  MOSCOW  441 

I  replied  that  when  the  Socialists  and  Communists  of  Catalonia 
fused,  the  result  was  one  Communist  party  which  joined  the  Third 
International,  and  that  when  the  Socialist  and  Communist  youth  or- 
ganizations of  Spain  amalgamated  the  whole  became  a  purely  Com- 
munist group. 

"That  was,"  Dimitrov  said.  "But  it  can  change.  There  is  no  reason 
why  Negrin  should  not  be  the  leader  of  a  united  Socialist-Com- 
munist party."  I  objected  that  he  would  then  be  regarded  a  Com- 
munist puppet.  "No,"  Dimitrov  assured,  "the  party  born  of  the 
merger  could  join  the  Second  International."  This  seemed  startling 
and  I  made  sure  that  I  had  correctly  understood  Dimitxov.  He  meant 
just  that.  "All  Spanish  Marxists  adhere  to  the  Second  International." 

It  appeared  to  me  that  if ,  as  a  result  of  such  action,  the  Comintern 
had  no  Spanish  section,  and  if,  with  parallel  success  of  the  fusion 
campaign  in  France,  it  had  no  French  section,  then  little  would  be 
left  of  the  Comintern.  Dimitrov's  strategy  spelled  the  death  of  the 
Comintern  or,  euphemistically,  its  "union"  with  the  Second  socialist, 
reformist  International,  After  the  Spanish  and  French  Communist 
parties  entered  the  Second  International,  the  small  Communist  par- 
ties—British, Belgian,  and  others— would  try  to  do  likewise,  and  then 
Moscow  would  be  rid  of  the  Third  International.  Many  circum- 
stances indicated  that  the  Kremlin  regarded  the  Comintern  as  more 
of  a  nuisance  and  less  of  an  asset  than  ever.  Dimitrov  was  definitely 
under  an  official  cloud.  He  engaged  in  fewer  activities.  Often  he  did 
not  go  to  the  Comintern  office  but  remained  at  home  to  see  visitors. 

The  merging  of  Socialist  and  Communist  parties  would  have  been 
the  Popular  Front  with  a  vengeance.  Moscow  still  believed  in  the 
Popular  Front.  Moscow  saw  the  Popular  Front  as  the  best  guaran- 
tee of  collective  security  and  an  anti-Fascist  policy  in  democratic 
countries. 

The  Comintern  interfered  with  friendlier  relations  with  England, 
France,  and  the  United  States.  Other  circumstances  hampered  these 
relations  more.  But  the  Comintern  did  interfere,  and  Stalin  had  in 
recent  years  shown  no  great  enthusiasm  for  Dimitrov  or  for  the 
Comintern.  One  cause  of  this  attitude  was  Dimitrov's  refusal,  after 
arriving  in  Moscow  from  his  triumphant  trial  at  Leipzig,  to  partici- 
pate in  the  nauseating  Stalin  worship.  Dimitrov  in  the  end  had  to 
bow  his  big  noble  head,  for  the  alternative  would  have  been  com- 
plete silence  and  inactivity  for  him.  But  I  do  not  think  he  was  very 
happy  in  Moscow  conditions.  When  I  saw  him  again  in  Moscow 


442      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

in  May,  1938,  he  seemed  even  more  depressed  and  more  removed 
from  the  center  of  power. 

Dimitrov's  idea  of  liquidating  the  Third  International  by  trans- 
ferring its  most  important  foreign  parties  to  the  Second  International 
may  have  been  his  personal  view.  He  was  a  true  proletarian  revo- 
lutionist and  he  must  have  realized  that  a  Comintern  harnessed  to 
the  Soviet  government  had  less  influence  on  the  working  class  of 
the  world  and  was  less  free  than  it  would  have  if  its  constituents 
joined  the  Socialist  International.  He  must  have  seen  that  the  Com- 
intern was  losing  its  own  personality  and  increasingly  becoming  an 
automatic  mouthpiece  of  Stalin's  dictatorship  and  an  instrument  of 
the  GPU. 

But  Dimitrov's  idea  also  reflected  Stalinist  policy.  Foreign  Com- 
munists in  Russia  were  under  a  cloud.  Hundreds,  probably  thou- 
sands, of  them  had  been  arrested.  A  cartoon  in  the  Moscow  evening 
paper  apropos  of  the  annual  masquerade  carnival  held  in  the  Park 
of  Culture  and  Rest  depicted  a  Nazi  spy  looking  at  a  series  of  masks 
and  wondering  which  one  he  should  wear.  The  masks  were  marked 
"foreign  specialist,"  "tourist,"  "writer,"  and  "victim  of  Fascism." 
That  made  it  all  very  simple;  these  categories  were  suspect  and 
Soviet  citizens  would  do  well  to  avoid  them.  But  victims  of  Fascism 
whom  the  Soviet  "Union  admitted  were  all  Communists  and  many 
were  prominent  figures  in  the  Comintern.  Since  no  cartoon  or  printed 
word  appears  in  Moscow  which  does  not  conform  to  official  policy 
this  little  sketch  indicated  a  new  hostile  attitude  towards  foreign 
Communists.  As  such  it  merely  supplemented  a  much  more  concrete 
indication:  the  wholesale  imprisonment  or  banishment  of  the  bulk 
of  Polish,  Hungarian,  and  German  Communists  in  the  Soviet  Union 
and  of  the  Viennese  Schutzbuendler  or  Socialist  Defense  Corps  mem- 
bers who  fled  from  Austria  after  February,  1934.  Other  Communists 
were  leaving  as  fast  as  they  could. 

I  was  glad  there  was  a  Spain  to  work  in  and  work  for.  It  would 
have  been  mental  torture  to  live  in  Moscow's  atmosphere.  The  alter- 
native would  have  been  to  go  away  and  attack  the  Soviet  regime  in 
my  writings  and  lectures.  I  was  not  yet  ready  to  do  that.  In  Moscow, 
I  met  Joseph  Barnes,  resident  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Her- 
ald Tribune.  He  thought  the  purge  had  come  to  an  end.  I  differed 
with  him;  but  it  was  only  my  opinion  against  his.  In  1930,  the  engi- 
neers and  intellectuals  had  been  subjected  to  a  violent  purge.  Thou- 
sands were  arrested.  Factories  were  paralyzed  as  a  result.  Then  Stalin 


BLACK  MOSCOW  443 

made  a  speech  and  it  stopped.  Perhaps  this  too  would  stop.  I  had  in- 
vested fourteen  years  of  hope  in  Soviet  Russia.  The  present  black 
phase  was  about  a  year  old.  I  would  wait.  Besides  there  was  Spain. 
Every  nation  was  kicking  Spain,  and  only  Russia  helped.  It  did  not 
help  enough  but  it  helped,  and  the  Loyalists  were  grateful.  If  I  had 
come  out  as  a  public  enemy  of  Russia  many  non-Communist  doors 
would  be  closed  to  me  in  Spain.  It  would  have  been  embarrassing 
for  numerous  Spaniards  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  a  person  who 
attacked  Russia.  I  was  losing  Russia.  I  did  not  want  at  the  same  time 
to  lose  Spain. 


26.  Nyon  Light 

HITLER  understands  only  one  language,  the  language  of  force. 
That  is  true  of  all  dictators.  They  are  cynical  about  words. 
They  know  too  well  the  crimes  against  words  which  they 
themselves  have  committed. 

In  the  dictatorships  it  is  guns  instead  of  butter.  In  the  democracies 
it  was,  for  too  long,  words  instead  of -guns.  Speeches,  conferences, 
notes,  treaties.  The  dictators  replied  with  tanks  and  bombers. 

Only  once  the  democracies  saw  the  light:  at  Nyon,  in  September, 
1937.  They  acted.  They  stopped  talking  and  acted— and  the  dicta- 
torships became  very  small. 

The  matter  started  in  this  way.  "Unknown"  submarines  had  been 
torpedoing  ships  in  the  Mediterranean  which  carried  food,  raw  ma- 
terials, and  arms  to  the  Loyalists.  Foreign  correspondents  in  Rome 
said  jestingly  that  Mussolini  proposed  to  erect  a  monument  to  the 
"unknown"  submarine  next  to  the  monument  to  the  unknown  sol- 
dier. Mussolini  was  called  the  "unknown"  statesman.  When  the  Loy- 
alists took  Blackshirt  prisoners  they  called  them  prisoners  of  "un- 
known" origin.  Everybody  in  the  world  knew  that  the  "unknown" 
submarines  were  Italian.  But  the  British  and  French,  and  of  course 
the  Italians,  the  Germans,  and  the  Non-Intervention  Committee,  ob- 
served the  amenities  and  called  them  "unknown."  The  Soviet  press 
called  them  Italian. 

The  Mediterranean  had  become  unsafe.  Between  July  27  and  Sep- 
tember 3— thirty-nine  days— eighteen  ships  were  attacked.  Some  were 
British  and  French,  London  and  Paris  did  not  like  the  idea  of  Italy 
converting  their  "artery"  into  Mare  Nostrum.  There  was  still  plenty 
of  resentment  against  Italy  in  the  British  Foreign  Office  on  account 
of  Abyssinia..  In  Geneva,  before  the  Nyon  conference,  Anthony 
Eden  made  a  broadcast  punctuated  with  anti-Italian  barbs.  When 
he  finished  he  turned  to  die  London  Times  correspondent  who  was 
in  the  studio  and  said  with  obvious  glee,  "I  hope  Musso  heard  that." 
To  curb  Eden,  London  sent  Sir  Robert  Vansittart  to  Nyon.  Eden 
was  Foreign  Minister;  Vansittart  was  permanent  chief  of  the  Foreign 

444 


NYON  LIGHT  445 

Office— Eden's  first  assistant.  Vansittart,  urbane,  learned,  skilled  diplo- 
mat, as  handsome  in  his  burly  way  as  Eden  in  his,  excelled  in  his 
passion  against  Germany  and  would  have  courted  Italy  in  order  to 
break  the  Axis  and  reconstitute  the  Stresa  front:  England,  France, 
and  Italy  against  Germany.  But  at  Nyon,  Eden  won  the  day. 

Edgar  Ansel  Mowrer,  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  used  to  drive 
me  out  in  the  rain  from  Geneva  to  the  near-by  town  of  Nyon  (pro- 
nounced Neon)  where  the  international  conference  took  place  in 
the  assembly  hall  of  the  little  local  schoolhouse.  The  stage  on  which 
the  principal  stands  to  conduct  exercises  and  where  Swiss  children 
present  amateur  plays 'was  not  used,  but  the  hall  itself— seating  ca- 
pacity four  hundred— was  divided  into  two  unequal  parts,  the  larger 
for  the  two  tables  at  which  the  foreign  ministers  and  their  secretaries 
sat,  and  the  smaller  for  the  crowded  newspapermen  of  all  nations. 
Many  journalists  could  not  get  accommodations  and  stayed  away. 

Here  in  the  schoolhouse  the  governments  adopted  measures  to 
stop  the  exploits  of  the  "unknown"  submarines.  Italy,  Germany,  and 
Japan  were  not  represented.  Litvinov  was  glad.  He  had  maneuvered 
to  keep  them  out.  Moscow  had  sent  Rome  two  sizzling  notes  prior 
to  Nyon  in  which  the  Soviet  government  declared  it  had  positive 
proof  that  the  Soviet  steamers  sunk  in  the  Mediterranean  had  been 
sunk  by  Italian  craft.  A  Soviet  ambassador  told  me  that  the  Soviet 
government  did  not  have  any  proof.  But  the  Italians  did  not  chal- 
lenge Moscow  to  produce  the  evidence;  Litvinov  had  gambled  on 
that.  He  did  not  want  Italy  at  Nyon.  He  never  believed  in  the  need 
of  "universality."  When  League  officials  or  other  diplomats  argued 
that  the  League  could  not  be  effective  because  the  aggressor  powers 
had  withdrawn,  he  scoffed.  He  always  regretted  the  absence  of  the 
United  States  from  Geneva,  but  he  contended  that  if  the  Fascist  nui- 
sances remained  away  the  others  could  accomplish  more— if  they 
wished.  Nyon  proved  it.  At  Nyon,  the  assembled  delegates  simply 
decided  to.  patrol  the  Mediterranean  and  sink  any  marauding  sub- 
marines on  sight.  The  patrol  was  carried  out  by  the  British  and 
French  navies.  The  torpedoings  stopped.  They  simply  stopped.  Mus- 
solini understood  the  smoke  of  British  cruisers  better  than  the  per- 
fumed notes  of  the  British  Foreign  Office.  Mussolini  saw  that  the 
British  meant  business  and  that  the  French,  at  last,  were  playing 
ball  with  the  British. 

(These  were  the  same  British  and  French  navies  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  lame  excuses  of  the  appeasers,  would  have  been  in  such  ter- 


446      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

rific  peril  if  oil  sanctions  had  put  Mussolini  in  bad  temper  in  1936. 
One  cannot  say  too  often  that  appeasement  was  not  a  matter  of  a 
weak  arm  but  of  a  weak  brain  and  a  weak  will.) 

Nyon  pointed  the  way  to  a  method  of  checking  Fascist  aggres- 
sion. It  was  a  stinging  answer  to  those  who  maintained  that  to  halt 
the  totalitarian  dictatorships  it  was  necessary  to  go  to  war.  Nyon 
was  not  war.  Yet  Mussolini  pulled  in  his  horns. 

Yvon  Delbos,  French  Foreign  Minister,  said  at  Geneva  that 
month,  "To  prevent  war  [the  nations  wanting  peace]  must  check 
its  impetus  by  displaying  the  force  which  their  union  constitutes. 
The  sum  of  our  energies,  if  they  converge  resolutely  towards  the 
same  end,  is  greater  than  any  other  force."  This  was  common  sense. 
It  was  collective  security.  It  was  a  permanent  Nyon.  It  could  have 
prevented  Munich.  It  could  have  saved  Spain.  It  could  have  staved 
off  the  European  war. 

But  Nyon  proved  to  be  only  a  flashlight,  not  a  fixed  beacon.  The 
Anglo-French  allies  were  apparently  frightened  by  their  own  suc- 
cess. They  were  ready  to  put  a  stop  to  Italian  piracy  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. But  they  were  not  ready  to  put  a  stop  to  Italo-German  inter- 
vention in  Spain.  The  presence  of  both  Eden  and  Vansittart  at  Nyon 
reflected  the  divisions  in  London.  Nyon  decided  on  patrolling  the 
Mediterranean.  But  then  England  invited  Italy  to  join  the  patrol. 
Mussolini  was  invited  to  hunt  down  his  own  submarines.  This  was 
a  stupid  gesture  of  friendship  to  Rome,  and  it  watered  down  the 
moral  lesson  of  Nyon.  London  and  Paris  were  incapable  of  a  sus- 
tained firmness  because  they  had  no  firm  convictions  about  Fascist 
aggression  and  about  Spain. 

What  had  happened  to  make  Nyon  possible?  The  Loyalists'  mili- 
tary position  had  improved.  At  Brunete  the  Republican  troops  reg- 
istered some  gains.  It  had  become  obvious  that  Spain  would  not  be 
a  walk-over  for  the  Fascists.  Barzini,  the  Popolo  (Fltalicfs  Burgos 
correspondent  had  wired  his  paper,  <rWe  must  not  imagine  an  easy, 
rapid  victory.  [Loyalist]  resistance  can  become  very  solid  and  very 


tenacious." 


Even  the  British  and  French  governments  had  to  consider  reali- 
ties sometimes.  When  Franco's  early  victory  seemed  assured,  London 
and  Paris  were  ready  to  help  Franco  win.  The  sooner  the  War  in 
Spain  was  over  the  better.  But  now  that  the  conclusion  seemed  in 
doubt  the  so-called  statesmen  wavered. 

The  British  admirals,  moreover,  disliked  the  idea  of  Italy  behav- 


NYON  LIGHT  447 

ing  like  the  mistress  of  the  Mediterranean  and  sinking  British  ships. 
The  French  were  alarmed  by  the  dimensions  of  Italo-German  "non- 
intervention" in  Spain.  Edouard  Daladier,  addressing  the  executive 
committee  of  his  Radical  Socialist  party  on  September  10,  1937  said, 
"Despite  our  real  and  sincere  desire  to  remain  faithful  to  the  Non- 
intervention policy  ...  we  cannot  permit  it  to  end  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  freedom  of  our  communications  with  our  African  em- 
pire or  create  a  menace  on  our  Pyrenean  frontier.  In  the  life  of  a 
people  resolved  to  maintain  its  greatness,  there  comes  a  time  when  it 
must  say  *No.' " 

Bravo,  Monsieur  Daladier!  At  Nyon,  his  country  said  No,  and  it 
worked.  But  then  he  got  frightened  and  said  Yes,  and  again  Yes. 

France  was  perturbed  by  the  entrenchment  of  Italy  and  Germany 
in  Spain.  The  Italians,  eager  to  convince  an  unbelieving  world  that 
they  were  good  soldiers,  boasted  a  bit  too  blatantly  of  their  part  in 
the  conquest  of  Bilbao  and  the  Basque  district.  "Woe  to  the  weak," 
Daladier  cried  in  the  same  speech.  (Then  why  did  he  not  arm?  He 
was  Minister  of  War.) 

Nyon  was  a  moment  of  sanity,  a  burst  of  realism.  The  national 
and  imperial  interests  of  France  and  England  were  threatened  in 
Spain.  In  the  summer  of  1937,  Franco  had  conquered  the  Basque 
coast  of  Spain  and  driven  the  Loyalists  from  Bilbao  and  Santander. 
Now  the  Republic  could  get  arms  from  Russia  only  via  the  Medi- 
terranean. If  Mussolini  cut  that  route,  the  Loyalists  would  be  fin- 
ished. That  explains  Nyon.  France  and  England  wished  to  see  Rus- 
sia continue  her  aid  to  Spain. 

But  they  were  not  prepared  to  give  direct  aid  themselves.  They 
did  not  mind  a  prolongation  of  the  war  at  the  expense  of  Germany 
and  Italy,  and  of  Russia.  But  they  would  not  send  arms  themselves. 
And  before  long  they  had  also  changed  their  minds  about  the  sink- 
ing of  ships.  Soon  the  old  arguments  were  repeated;  the  Loyalists 
were  "Reds"  and  had  burned  churches.  What  about  the  cutting  of 
France's  life-line  to  Africa?  What  about  the  menace  on  the  Pyre- 
nean frontier?  Class  hatreds  and  economic  prejudices  apparently 
weighed  more  in  the  balance.  If  the  Loyalists  won  under  the  guid- 
ance of  the  Popular  Front,  the  Popular  Front  would  be  stronger 
in  France  too.  Compared  with  that  threat  to  their  power  at  home 
what  did  the  Right  reactionaries  care  about  the  national  and  im- 
perial interests  of  France?  They  defended  their  class  interests  at  the 
expense  of  France. 


448      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

But  some  Frenchmen  did  care.  The  Frenchmen  in  the  Interna- 
tional Brigade  cared.  Many  of  them  were  Communists.  Yet  in  effect 
they  were  better  Frenchmen  than  the  French  appeasers  and  French 
supporters  of  Franco.  Edouard  Herriot,  speaker  of  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  cared.  Pierre  Cot  cared. 

The  foreign  policy  of  a  country,  especially  of  a  democracy— 
though  not  only  of  a  democracy— can  never  be  understood  unless  it 
is  seen  as  the  product  in  part  of  a  struggle  between  contending  do- 
mestic forces.  Sometimes  one  wins,  sometimes  the  other.  Sometimes, 
both  shape  policy.  While  President  Roosevelt  made  anti-appease- 
ment speeches,  certain  gentlemen  in  the  United  States  State  Depart- 
ment were  busily  appeasing.  While  Chamberlain  appeased,  Churchill 
fought  appeasement,  and  in  the  end  Churchill  was  called  upon  to 
direct  the  war  which  Chamberlain's  appeasement  made  inevitable. 
Occasionally,  one  and  the  same  man  may  be  torn  between  two  tend- 
encies. L6on  Blum,  Socialist  Premier  of  France,  was  undoubtedly 
pro-Loyalist  at  heart.  But  by  sponsoring  Non-intervention  he  helped 
kill  Loyalist  Spain.  He  did  it  because  of  pressure  from  England  and 
because  he  was  cowardly.  His  Popular  Front  government  came  into 
office  in  1936  with  a  vast  majority.  But  he  was  afraid  that  aid  to 
the  Spanish  Republic  would  split  the  country.  It  split  the  country 
anyway.  It  ruined  the  country.  That  was  Hitler's  goal.  The  Spanish 
struggle  divided  England  and  France  into  two  hostile  camps.  That 
made  it  easier  to  conquer  France  and  attack  England.  The  civil  war 
in  Spain  was  matched  by  civil  wars  in  the  democracies,  not  civil 
wars  fought  with  machine  guns  and  bombs,  but  nevertheless  inter- 
necine strife  which  disrupted  internal  unity  and  obstructed  the  for- 
mulation of  a  strong  national  policy.  It  became  more  important  to 
the  French  conservatives  to  defeat  the  friends  of  Loyalist  Spain  in 
France  than  to  defend  France.  Gnngovre^  Cmdide,  and  other  pro- 
Fascist  French  weeklies  and  dailies  attacked  Blum  and  Cot  much 
more  violently  than  they  attacked  Hitler  and  Mussolini.  They  en- 
ergetically abetted  the  Fascist  victory  over  Spain  although  that  vic- 
tory was  a  prologue  to  the  Fascist  victory  over  France. 

Pierre  Cot  was  Minister  of  Air  from  June,  1936,  to  January,  1938. 
Cot  tells  me  that  he  was  instrumental  in  sending  one  hundred  French 
airplanes  to  the  Loyalists.  Seventy  of  these  went  in  1936,  thirty  in 
1937.  Of  the  seventy,  fifty  were  sold  by  private  French  companies 
with  the  consent  of  the  French  government.  Thirty-five  of  these 
were  new  pursuit  planes  and  fifteen  were  good  bombers  and  recon- 


NYON  LIGHT  449 

naissance  machines.  The  other  twenty  were  old  and  were  sold  un- 
officially to  Andre  Malraux. 

A  striking  detail:  The  French  Senate  was  informed  about  the  sale 
of  the  thirty-five  fighters.  They  were  sold  to  the  Loyalists  officially. 
But  the  Senate  was  told  that  this  was  in  execution  of  a  pre-war  con- 
tract with  the  Spanish  government—and  no  such  contract  existed. 
The  fifteen  bombers  had  been  manufactured  for  Lithuania.  Cot  told 
Lithuania  that  it  would  have  to  wait,  and  gave  the  Spanish  Republic 
priority. 

In  1937,  it  became  even  more  difficult  for  pro-Loyalists  in  France 
to  help  Spain.  The  thirty  French  planes  delivered  by  France  to 
Spain  in  that  year  were  "contraband."  Then  this  source  dried  up. 
Altogether,  France  sold  the  Spanish  republic  one  hundred  airplanes. 
Leon  Blum  approved.  But  if  the  entire  French  cabinet  had  been  con- 
sulted a  much  smaller  number  would  have  gone. 

When  the  Spanish  War  broke  out,  Blum  sent  a  delegation  to  Lon- 
don to  co-ordinate  French  and  British  policies  on  Spain.  The  dele- 
gation consisted  of  Yvon  Delbos  who  was  weak,  Corbin,  the  French 
Ambassador  in  London,  who  was  a  reactionary,  and  Admiral  Dar- 
lan,  who  remained  to  serve  the  Vichy  government  of  Marshal 
Petain.  Pierre  Cot  says  that  Darlan  was  impressed  by  the  sensational 
accounts  he  heard  from  British  naval  men  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  Loyalist  sailors  had  killed  their  officers.  That  makes  policy  too. 
So  this  French  delegation  worked  out  the  details  of  Non-interven- 
tion. Later,  Blum  would  have  liked  to  rid  himself  of  this  incubus, 
But  the  British  government  and  numerous  Frenchmen  of  the  Right 
and  Left,  even  Socialists,  did  not  let  him. 

The  League  of  Nations  session  held  at  the  same  time  as  the  Nyon 
conference  was,  as  usual,  a  battleground  on  which  the  Loyalists 
fought  for  their  rights  as  a  sovereign  state  to  buy  arms  for  self-de- 
fense. This  is  an  elementary  rule  of  international  law,  but  the  de- 
mocracies broke  it  when  they  sanctioned  Non-intervention,  and 
the  United  States  infringed  it  when  it  refused  to  sell  arms  to  a  legally 
established  government  resisting  foreign  aggression. 

The  London  Times  Geneva  correspondent  reported  to  his  paper 
that  the  Loyalist  government  was  represented  at  the  League  delibera- 
tions by  a  strong  delegation,  including  Prime  Minister  Juan  Negrin 
and  Alvarez  del  Vayo.  He  did  not  even  mention  Jose  Giral,  Spanish 
Foreign  Minister  who  also  attended.  Del  Vayo  was  a  sort  of  ambas- 
sador-at-large.  People  like  him.  He  is  warm*  Everybody  who  knows 


450      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

him,  from  his  cook  and  elevator  boy  to  foregin  diplomats,  learns  to 
be  fond  of  him.  He  is  honest,  frank,  humble,  and  modest.  On  the 
platform  and  at  Geneva  sessions  he  speaks-  with  passion  and  force. 
He  is  a  good  journalist  and  writes  quickly.  His  addresses  of  Geneva 
were  among  the  memorable  ones  of  those  hectic  years  in  which  the 
League  died  because  it  refused  to  do  what  it  was  created  f or-work 
for  peace  and  not  just  to  please  England  or  France.  Del  Vayo  wrote 
most  of  the  speeches  himself.  But  he  also  enjoyed  the  able  assistance 
of  Pablo  Azacarate,  Loyalist  Ambassador  in  London,  who  had  been 
employed  by  the  League  for  fourteen  years  and  was  once  its  Dep- 
uty General-Secretary.  Azcarate,  tall,  thin,  bald,  knew  all  the  tricks 
and  techniques  of  the  Geneva  racket  and  contributed  the  legal 
touches  to  Vayo's  speeches.  Azcarate  was  responsible  for  some  of 
Spain's  cleverest  maneuvers  at  Geneva.  I  often  saw  the  speeches 
before  they  were  delivered  and  occasionally  offered  suggestions 
which  were  included  in  the  final  draft. 

At  the  September,  1937,  League  session,  it  was  Spain's  turn  to 
preside  at  the  Council  sessions,  and  Prime  Minister  Negrin  came 
specially  to  Geneva  for  this  purpose.  He  had  delivered  only  two  or 
thrqe  speeches  in  his  life,  but  he  performed  very  well  in  this  his  first 
foreign  forensic  experience. 

I  usually  phoned  Negrin  at  breakfast  time  and  he  would  often 
ask  me  to  come  down  to  his  suite  immediately.  Several  times  I  found 
him  in  the  bathroom  shaving  and  wearing  only  his  pajama  pants.  To 
remove  the  lather  after  the  shave,  he  would  duck  first  one  side  of 
his  head,  then  the  other  side  into  a  sink  full  of  water.  Next  he  got 
into  a  hot  bath  and  scrubbed  himself  and  talked  with  gusto  while  I 
sat  on  a  bathstool  or  stood  against  the  wall.  Occasionally,  a  secre- 
tary would  come  in  with  a  telegram,  bend  over  the  bathtub  and  hold 
it  while  Negrin  read  it.  Negrin  was  very  natural  and  simple  about 
all  this.  In  Barcelona  too  I  had  a  session  with  him  in  a  bathroom  to- 
gether with  Otero,  a  gynecologist  who  during  the  war  became  chief 
of  the  armaments  section  of  the  War  Ministry.  Otero  felt  all  right 
during  the  shaving  process  but  when  the  Prime  Minister  got  ready 
for  the  bath  he  was  rather  shocked. 

,  One  evening  I  invited  Negrin  and  Martha  Dodd  to  dinner  at  the 
Bavaria.  The  Bavaria  is  the  restaurant  to  which  statesmen  and  jour- 
nalists attending  League  sessions  came  to  exchange  views,  news  and 
glances.  Even  Litvinov  went.  Its  walls  are  covered  with  the  originals 
of  caricatures  and  sketches  of  famous  Geneva  visitors  made  by  Derso 


NYON  LIGHT  451 

and  Kellen  and  other  artists.  At  a  table  near  us  sat  a  man  who  didn't 
seem  to  belong  in  this  atmosphere.  He  eyed  Negrin  without  inter- 
ruption. One  could  not  help  being  aware  of  it.  "That's  the  special 
bodyguard  the  Swiss  government  has  assigned  to  me,"  Negrin  said. 
"I  never  say  anything  to  him  but  he  turns  up  wherever  I  go."  Del 
Vayo  used  to  take  his  guard  along  in  his  car.  The  guard  was  a  Ger- 
man Swiss  and  so  is  Madame  del  Vayo;  they  got  acquainted  and  his 
life  was  simplified  when  he  was  included  in  the  family  group.  Del 
Vayo  often  pleaded  with  him  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  come  along, 
but  the  detective  replied  that  he  had  strict  instructions  from  the  gov- 
ernment never  to  relax  his  vigilance.  Besides,  he  was  beginning  to 
enjoy  himself. 

One  evening  Negrin  gave  a  dinner  to  about  twenty  friends.  I 
sat  next  to  an  unofficial  adviser  of  the  Chinese  government.  I  think 
I  did  not  say  two  words  until  the  dessert  was  served.  I  was  having 
a  brain  wave.  The  Loyalists  were  short  of  arms.  The  transportation 
of  Soviet  arms  to  Spain  encountered  innumerable  obstacles.  China 
was  getting  arms  from  Russia.  China  was  able  to  buy  arms  any- 
where because  no  Non-intervention  operated  against  her.  The  Chi- 
nese had  little  money.  The  Loyalists  had  plenty  of  money.  Couldn't 
the  Chinese  buy  arms  for  the  Loyalists?  Russia  could  send  to  China 
the  arms  it  would  normally  send  Spain;  no  transport  difficulties  there; 
and  then  China  could  purchase  the  same  amount  of  arms  in  the 
United  States  or  elsewhere  and  ship  them  via  the  Mediterranean  or 
France  to  the  Loyalists. 

I  outlined  this  scheme  to  my  neighbor  at  dinner.  He  saw  possible 
mutual  advantages.  After  dinner  I  went  to  Negrin's  room  and  talked 
to  him  about  it.  He  greeted  it  enthusiastically.  I  asked  him  what  he 
would  be  ready  to  pay  the  Chinese  for  their  assistance  iti  obtaining 
arms  for  Spain.  He  said,  "Well,  it  would  be  worth  up  to  fifteen 
percent  to  us."  Negrin  suggested  that  I  sound  Litvinov  on  the  idea. 

The  next  day  I  saw  Litvinov.  Dr.  Kung,  the  Chinese  Finance  Min- 
ister, had  just  left  Litvinov.  The  unofficial  Chinese  adviser  had  al- 
ready talked  to  Kung,  and  Litvinov  had  already  heard  of  my  scheme. 
Litvinov  said,  however,  that  munitions  matters  were  not  his  province. 
He  intimated  that  I  might  consult  a  Soviet  military  man  in  Paris. 
Litvinov  was  always  like  that,  but  it  did  not  mean  that  he  was  un- 
sympathetic or  that  he  would  not  take  it  up  in  Moscow. 

In  Paris,  several  days  later,  Dr.  Lee  visited  me.  Lee  was  a  Peking 
professor  with  a  sparse  gray  beard  of  very  long  hairs  and  a  round 


452      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

dumpling  face.  He  was  leaving  for  Moscow  where  he  had  appoint- 
ments with  Stalin  and  War  Commissar  Voroshilov  with  whom  he 
hoped  to  arrange  for  more  munitions  deliveries. 

I  put  the  whole  plan  on  the  basis  of  the  solidarity  and  sympathy 
that  ought  to  exist  between  two  nations  which  were  fighting  totali- 
tarian aggression.  He  was  a  liberal  and  agreed.  But  he  intimated  that 
China  needed  money. 

Then  I  had  an  interview  with  Dr.  Wellington  Koo,  the  Chinese 
Ambassador  in  Paris.  With  him,  I  discussed  collaboration  between 
Spain  and  China  in  general  terms  only.  With  General  Semenov,  the 
Soviet  military  attache  in  Paris,  the  conversation  got  down  to  brass 
tacks,  but  he  simply  listened,  and  promised  to  report  to  Moscow. 

Meanwhile,  Negrin  authorized  Pablo  Azcarate,  his  envoy  in  Lon- 
don, to  handle  the  negotiations.  I  went  to  London  where  Azcarate 
and  I  met  the  unofficial  Chinese  adviser. 

One  of  the  problems  involved  was  transit  through  France.  Suppose 
China  bought  airplanes  in  America.  Normally,  a  freighter  would  take 
them  via  the  Pacific  to  China.  Would  France  allow  them  to  land  on 
its  territory,  ostensibly  for  transshipment  to  Asia  but  actually  for 
Spain? 

President  Roosevelt  once  vaguely  hinted  to  Fernando  de  los  Rios, 
Loyalist  Ambassador  in  Washington— but  in  no  connection  with  this 
Spain-China-Russia  scheme— that  if  France  supplied  arms  to  the  Loy- 
alists it  might  replenish  its  stocks  with  purchases  in  the  United  States. 
All  sorts  of  variations  of  the  scheme  were  therefore  possible.. 

As  usual,  a  lot  of  breath  and  time  was  wasted  on  talk.  The  Chinese 
referred  everything  by  cable  to  China.  It  appeared  that  a  certain 
amount  of  rivalry  existed  between  Dr.  Kung,  Finance  Minister,  and 
T.  V.  Soong,  President  of  the  Bank  of  China,  who  was  in  Hong 
Kong.  The  Chinese  in  Europe  were  closer  to  Soong  than  to  Kung. 
Dr.  Kung  hoped  to  buy  arms  in  Germany.  The  whole  triangular  or 
quadrangular  scheme  therefore  remained  in  abeyance  until  December. 

All  this  volunteer  dabbling  in  diplomacy  gave  me  an  illusion  of 
activity,  but  I  was  fully  aware  of  the  fact  that  many  well-meant 
efforts  to  obtain  war  munitions  for  Republican  Spain  had  never  grad- 
uated from  the  conversational  phase.  So  while  this  affair  excited  me 
I  still  kept  my  feet  on  the  earth,  studied  the  European  situation  and 
Spanish  developments,  and  sent  frequent  articles  to  The  Nation  and 
the  usual  carbon  copies  to  my  little  private  syndicate. 

In  October,  1937, 1  took  a  trip  to  Spain. 


27.  Confidence  and  Hunger 

WE  are  going  to  save  the  world,"  said  Negrin,  addressing 
the  Cortes  in  Valencia  on  October  i,  1937.  "We  shall 
wake  from  the  lethargy  in  which  we  have  lived  for  two 
centuries.  I  have  faith  in  Spain.  I  have  faith  in  victory."  There  had 
been  bombs  that  night  over  the  city.  When  I  flew  in  from  Paris  just 
as  the  Cortes  session  was  opening,  the  pilot  made  a  detour  over  the 
sea  to  avoid  enemy  craft. 

Negrin  felt  confident,  and  Parliament  echoed  his  optimism.  But 
this  reliance  was  not  based  on  a  realistic  study  of  the  situation,  which 
might  have  encouraged  some  and  sobered  others  with  a  sense  of 
mounting  hardships.  What  spoke  in  Negrin  was  Spain's  destiny.  It 
was  like  a  child  in  the  womb  that  had  to  be  born.  Spain  was  begin- 
ning to  stir.  It  was  rousing  itself  from  centuries  of  sleep.  Fascist 
bombs  had  awakened  it.  Negrin  knew  that  an  elemental  force  urged 
Spain  on  to  life.  Therefore  he  had  trust  in  victory.  Without  victory 
the  child  would  die  before  birth. 

Already,  Spain  suffered  hunger.  The  Loyalists  held  the  large  cities 
which  consumed  much  food,  but  Franco  held  the  great  meat-produc- 
ing and  wheat-producing  regions.  The  Loyalists  therefore  had  to 
import  food.  But  they  imported  less  than  they  needed  because  they 
had  to  have  enough  money  for  munitions.  Good  men  were  com- 
pelled to  make  this  cruel  decision.  The  Loyalists  never  got  anything 
for  nothing.  They  paid  Soviet  Russia  for  arms,  and  they  usually 
overpaid  for  arms  bought  elsewhere.  Sometimes  they  paid  twice  or 
three  times  for  the  same  arms.  Thus:  a  Loyalist  agency  bought  and 
paid  cash  for  several  batteries  of  artillery  in  Belgium.  Since  this  was 
illegal,  the  Belgian  government  seized  the  goods.  The  seller,  suspected 
of  having  bribed  a  high  official  to  make  the  seizure,  now  informed 
the  Loyalist  agency  that  he  could  get  the  guns  released  if  he  paid 
their  full  value  plus  a  bribe  to  several  officials  equal  to  half  the  value 
of  the  batteries.  The  agency  had  no  choice  but  to  pay  cost  and  a 
half  in  addition  to  the  original  payment. 

Franco  arranged  an  exhibition  of  the  arms  he  had  captured  from 

453 


454      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

the  Republicans.  It  looked  like  a  museum;  it  included  Krupp  cannon 
of  1880,  the  oldest  howitzers  ever  manufactured,  and  machine  guns 
held  together  with  wire.  The  Republic  ransacked  the  arsenals  of 
Europe  and  paid  fancy  prices  for  the  worst  possible  junk.  Franco, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  more  arms  than  his  men  could  use.  He  got 
them  for  nothing  from  Hitler  and  Mussolini;  they  would  cash  in 
later— they  hoped.  It  was,  unfortunately,  not  simply  talk  to  say  that 
the  Loyalists  had  to  oppose  the  flesh  of  their  men  to  the  steel  of  the 
Fascists.  And  now  the  flesh  was  hungry,  too. 

On  this  visit  to  Valencia  I  lived  in  the  Presidencia,  Negrin's  head- 
quarters, and  took  most  meals  with  him.  Otto  Katz,  a  German  author 
who  devoted  his  abilities  to  Loyalist  propaganda  abroad,  and  several 
of  Negrin's  secretaries  and  military  advisers  also  ate  at  die  Premier's 
table.  Negrin  likes  company  and  likes  to  share  his  opinions  with 
others.  In  private,  we  frequently  talked  about  Soviet  Russia.  Several 
high  Soviet  officials  in  Spain  had  been  recalled  and  were  reportedly 
purged  when  they  got  home.  Negrin  would  say,  "We  trusted  these 
men  implicitly.  Now  they  are  condemned  as  traitors.  How  are  we 
to  know  whether  the  men  who  have  succeeded  them  here  can  be 
trusted?"  I  told  him  this  was  the  very  doubt  which  crept  into  the 
minds  of  millions  of  Soviet  citizens. 

I  saw  a  lot  of  War  Minister  Prieto  on  that  trip.  He  was  an  inter- 
esting and  unusual  personality.  I  understood  his  Spanish  but  did  not 
know  enough  of  the  language  to  express  myself  well,  so  Gisela  Bauer, 
a  Viennese  woman  married  to  a  Spaniard,  acted  as  interpreter.  Gisela 
was  Prieto's  private  secretary  and  opened  his  secret  mail  and  tele- 
grams. She  spoke  English,  French,  German,  and  Spanish  fluently. 
I  had  made  inquiries  in  Paris  for  Prieto  about  the  possibility  of  en- 
listing Latin  American  officers  in  the  Loyalist  forces.  Several  Mexi- 
can officers  had  served  brilliantly  in  the  Republican  army.  Prieto 
wanted  more  from  Mexico  and  other  Spanish-speaking  countries.  I 
had  also  spoken  to  a  member  of  the  French  Cabinet  about  recruiting 
French  reserve  officers  for  Spain.  Negrin  had  asked  me  to  do  that, 
and  he  suggested  that  the  experience  might  stand  the  French  army 
in  good  stead.  The  Loyalists  several  times  put  this  proposition  to  the 
French  military:  "Germany  and  Italy  are  trying  out  new  weapons 
in  Spain.  Thousands  of  Nazi  pilots  are  coming  to  Spain  for  graduate 
courses  in  actual  combat.  Why  can't  you  send  some  of  your  people 
here?  That  would  help  you  and  us."  The  French  refused.  France 
had  a  new  airplane  equipped  with  a  cannon.  Pierre  Cot  proposed  that 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  455 

it  be  put  through  its  trials  in  the  Loyalist  air  force.  The  French  gov- 
ernment said  No. 

Whenever  a  novel  airplane  type  or  an  anti-aircraft  gun  was  cap- 
tured by  the  Loyalists,  the  Russians  packed  it  off  to  Russia  for 
analysis.  The  Loyalists  offered  the  British  and  French  the  same 
facilities.  They  never  accepted. 

I  talked  to  Prieto  about  all  these  matters  and  about  domestic  poli- 
tics. I  put  one  question,  "Why  is  it  that  the  Spanish  Socialists  and 
Communists,  who  would  seem  to  be  so  close  to  one  another,  are  such 
bitter  enemies?"  He  took  an  hour  to  answer.  He  delivered  an  oration. 
It  was  a  wonderful  performance  and  a  privilege  to  see  his  huge  bulk, 
sunk  deep  into  a  soft  chair,  bounce  up  and  down  and  sway  from 
side  to  side  as  he  explained  his  views.  He  said  he  had  once  favored 
merging  the  Socialist  and  Communist  parties.  But  now  he  violently 
opposed  that.  He  did  not  trust  the  Communists.  He  gave  instances. 
He  told  me  how  they  tried  to  get  control  of  the  army  through 
the  officers  and  commissars.  He  resisted  their  efforts. 

I  said  I  had  observed  at  the  front  that  commissars  improved  the 
morale  of  the  troops.  He  replied,  "But  why  must  the  vast  majority 
of  them  be  Communists?" 

I  said,  "Lister,  Campensino  and  Modesto  are  doing  the  job  of  gen- 
erals. But  you  refuse  to  give  them  the  rank  of  generals.  They  are 
kept  down  on  the  colonel  level."  He  explained  that  that  was  due 
to  old  Spanish  army  regulations.  It  was  not  an  answer,  but  it  re- 
vealed his  bias. 

I  had  overstayed  the  ninety  minutes  granted  me,  and  yet  I  had  not 
had  enough  and  hoped  he  would  find  time  tomorrow  to  take  me  out 
to  his  country  home  in  Vetera  where  he  would  not  be  interrupted 
by  telephone  calls  and  secretaries.  He  told  me  to  come  tomorrow  at 
five. 

Next  day  however,  Prieto  said  he  was  afraid  to  leave  his  office; 
he  expected  news  from  the  front  and  wanted  to  be  near  the  tele- 
graph. But  he  would  promise  me  an  hour  without  interruptions. 
There  was  one  interruption:  the  young  secretary  who  had  been  in- 
structed to  keep  visitors  away  himself  burst  like  a  cyclone  into  the 
room  and  waved  a  telegram.  "My  wife's  given  birth.  It's  a  girl,"  he 
exclaimed.  Prieto  hoisted  himself  out  of  the  depression  in  the  sofa, 
embraced  the  secretary,  and  congratulated  him. 

Among  other  things,  we  talked  about  del  Vayo.  Del  Vayo  under- 
took occasional  missions  abroad,  wrote  articles,  and  spoke  on  the 


456      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

radio,  but  his  energy,  enthusiasm,  and  excellent  knowledge  of  world 
politics  were  not  being  used  to  the  full.  He  was  Commissar  General 
of  War  and  all  the  commissars  were  under  him.  But  Prieto  inter- 
fered so  much  with  the  work  of  the  commissars  that  del  Vayo  could 
do  very  little  except  go  to  the  front  and  address  the  troops  in  the 
trenches.  I  suggested  to  Prieto  that  it  would  solve  a  problem  for  him 
and  del  Vayo  if  the  latter  became  Foreign  Minister  or,  at  least,  Am- 
bassador in  Paris— the  Loyalists'  most  pivotal  diplomatic  post.  Negrin 
and  I  had  discussed  this  matter  several  times. 

Prieto  is  a  great  actor,  and  he  imitated  the  way  del  Vayo  speaks. 
I  told  him  that  if  he  could  see  del  Vayo  at  a  League  of  Nations 
Council  session  he  would  change  his  mind  about  him.  Prieto  finally 
declared  that  he  had  no  objection  to  del  Vayo  as  Foreign  Minister 
or  Ambassador,  but  it  was  not  his  affair. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Negrin  wanted  del  Vayo  in  the  Foreign  Office, 
but  could  not  appoint  him  over  Azafia's  veto.  Prieto  had  originally 
shared  Azafia's  opposition.  Negrin,  however,  could  not  insist  on  del 
Vayo's  appointment  because  he  had  not  yet  won  his  battle  with 
President  Azaiia.  Negrin's  prestige  was  rising.  He  was  quickly  forg- 
ing ahead  as  the  popular  leader,  but  'the  process  was  not  yet  com- 
plete. He  still  had  to  consider  Azana's  wishes. 

My  hour  with  Prieto  passed  all  too  quickly.  Brazenly  I  said  he 
had  been  very  kind  to  me  but  still  I  thought  that  we  could  have  a 
real  talk  only  in  the  relaxed  atmosphere  of  the  country.  He  told  me 
to  come  the  next  afternoon  at  five. 

I  was  walking  in  a  street  in  Valencia  the  next  morning  when  I  met 
Constancia  de  la  Mora.  Surprised  at  finding  her  away  from  her  desk 
at  such  an  hour,  and  reading  distress  in  her  face,  I  asked  what  had 
happened. 

"I've  been  discharged,"  she  exclaimed. 

"What  for?"  I  asked. 

"Prieto  did  it,"  she  said  bitterly. 

This  episode  is  to  me  the  most  interesting  in  Constancia  de  la 
Mora's  official  career  although  I  find  no  mention  of  it  in  her  auto- 
biographical book,  In  Place  of  Splendor.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
war,  Constancia  took  care  of  refugee  children.  Then  she  was  put  in 
charge  of  a  hospital  near  Alicante  for  wounded  Soviet  pilots.  But 
so  many  of  them  were  killed  outright  that  she  had  little  to  do.  One 
day  in  January,  1937,  she  requested  me  to  speak  to  del  Vayo  and 
recommend  her  for  work  in  the  Foreign  Office  press  department. 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  457 

I  did.  Del  Vayo  is  a  gorgeous  human  being,  but  he  often  procras- 
tinates, and  I  talked  to  him  several  times,  and  also  to  his  wife  Luisy, 
urging  Constancy's  appointment.  Finally,  he  appointed  her,  and  she 
was  a  brilliant  success.  She  knew  languages  and  the  psychology  of 
foreigners,  and  the  correspondents  liked  her. 

Now  she  had  been  fired. 

This  is  what  happened:  Within  the  Loyalist  Cabinet,  Prieto  and 
his  friends  had  been  engaged  in  a  struggle  with  the  Communists  to 
curtail  the  prerogative  of  the  army's  political  commissars.  Prieto  had 
just  succeeded  in  pushing  through  a  decree  to  this  effect.  The  press 
published  the  decree  over  his  signature  and  on  behalf  of  the  entire 
cabinet.  But  when  the  foreign  newspapermen  wanted  to  wire  the 
news  abroad,  Constancia  did  not  allow  it.  In  other  words,  she  was 
censoring  her  own  government.  She  was  putting  her  devotion  to 
the  Communist  party  above  her  duty  as  a  state  official.  Prieto  lifted 
the  telephone,  talked  with  Jos6  Giral,  and  Giral  dismissed  her. 

A  few  hours  after  Constancia  told  me  of  her  dismissal  I  was  at 
lunch  in  the  Presidencia.  Negrin  came  in  late  and  sat  down  next  to 
me.  After  he  had  settled  down  to  his  meager  first  course,  I  said  to 
him  in  German-Otto  Katz  and  others  heard  it,  "Prieto  did  a  very 
foolish  thing  today." 

"What's  that?  "he  asked. 

"He  has  had  Constancia  de  la  Mora  discharged." 

"I  would  have  put  her  in  prison,"  Negrin  flashed. 

I  told  Negrin  I  believed  she  had  behaved  unpardonably.  "But  she 
is  irreplaceable  in  the  press  department.  All  the  foreign  visitors  and 
journalists  are  pleased  with  her  and  there  is  nobody  who  would  do 
nearly  as  well  in  her  job.  I  do  not  defend  her  action.  But  I  think 
she  ought  to  be  taken  back." 

We  argued  all  through  lunch  until  Negrin  said,  "Well,  it's  up  to 
Prieto  anyway.  Talk  to  him." 

That  evening  at  five,  I  called  on  Prieto  by  appointment,  and  hoped 
that  we  would  go  out  to  his  country  villa.  We  did.  We  got  into  his 
big  black  limousine  with  Gisela  (Prieto  told  her  to  take  a  warm 
coat).  An  open  car  filled  with  detectives  followed. 

Prieto  said,  "I  don't  know  what  more  you  expect  to  get  out  of 
me.  You  have  squeezed  me  dry  like  a  lemon."  He  was  in  good 
humor.  After  a  half-hour  ride,  we  arrived  in  the  little  town  of  Vetera. 

We  entered  through  a  small  swing  gate.  A  level  walk  of  bright  red 
tiles  led  to  the  broad,  low  tile-walled  house.  On  either  side  of  the 


458      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

walk  stretched  large  gardens  filled  with  rose  beds  and  very  green 
evergreen  dwarf  bushes.  The  housekeeper  came  to  meet  us  and  Prieto 
immediately  ordered  her  to  collect  a  bouquet  of  roses  for  Senora 
Bauer. 

I  said,  "Somebody  must  be  cursing  you." 

Prieto  said,  "Who?" 

"The  owner  of  this  fine  house." 

"Here  he  is,"  Prieto  said.  He  beckoned  me  to  follow  him  into  the 
house.  In  the  front  lobby  he  switched  on  a  light.  The  light  hung  in 
a  corner  niche  and  under  it  was  a  small  wax  figure  of  a  man  in  a 
toga  with  a  wire  halo  around  his  head.  "That's  the  owner.  He  had  it 
made,"  Prieto  exclaimed. 

"I  hope  you  will  never  do  such  a  thing." 

"Oh,  there  wouldn't  be  enough  wax  for  me,"  he  laughed. 

I  remarked  that  many  European  statesmen  had  gone  much  further 
along  the  road  of  self-glorification.  He  said,  "No,  I  have  never 
wanted  to  be  first."  While  he  and  I  moved  a  heavy  marble-topped 
table  and  three  chairs  into  position  on  the  porch,  he  mentioned 
several  instances  in  his  political  career  where  he  had  stepped  down 
and  refused  to  take  the  lead. 

He  asked  me  whether  I  drank.  He  said  he  never  drank  either,  but 
added,  "Let's  have  some  cognac."  Gisela  drained  her  glass  straight 
down  while  Prieto  and  I  sipped  slowly.  He  sat  looking  into  the 
distant  hills.  Twilight  was  setting  in  and  the  hills  were  purple  and 
brown.  "Four  hundred  years  from  now,  nobody  will  know  I  ever 
lived,"  Prieto  mused  aloud,  "and  in  Afghanistan  nobody  today  knows 
that  I  am  alive.  It  is  so  peaceful  here.  I'm  glad  you  made  me  come." 

Nobody  talked.  The  housekeeper  brought  the  roses,  and  Prieto 
said  they  were  too  pale.  Couldn't  some  brighter  ones  be  found? 

Silence  again.  Presently  he  turned  his  face  from  the  hills,  looked 
at  me,  and  said,  "What  do  you  think  of  me?" 

I  puckered  my  lips  and  thought  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  when 
I  was  about  to  open  my  mouth  he  interrupted.  "No,"  he  said,  "I 
didn't  want  you  to  think.  I  wanted  it  to  spill  forth,"  and  then  he 
talked  incessantly  himself.  He  told  several  Spanish  anecdotes.  When 
he  gave  me  a  chance,  I  said,  "You  probably  believed  I  was  looking 
for  good  things  to  say  and  couldn't  find  them  and  that's  why  I  hesi- 
tated. On  the  contrary.  I  always  refrain  from  paying  compliments 
to  statesmen  lest  they  imagine  I  am  currying  favor  with  them.  I  said 
that  to  Negrih  only  yesterday.  I  wanted  to  speak  of  your  faults." 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  459 

"Go  ahead." 

"As  I  see  it,"  I  began,  "you  have  two  major  shortcomings:  your 
limited  acquaintance  with  the  outside  world  and  your  limited  ambi- 


tion." 


He  asked  Gisela  to  explain  what  I  meant  by  limited  ambition.  She 
asked  me.  I  reminded  him  of  his  own  statement  that  he  didn't  want 
to  be  first.  He  didn't  fight  enough.  "You  are  a  pessimist  and  a  philos- 
opher. That  makes  you  a  fine  person  but  it  doesn't  exactly  help  win 
a  war.  You  are  an  Arab." 

When  Gisela  translated  "Arab"  he  winced.  No  Spaniard  is  pleased 
to  be  classified  so  close  to  a  Moor.  "You  take  the  Communists,"  I 
proposed.  "A  considerable  number  of  them  wear  blinkers.  They  see 
less  but  fight  better.  You  see  Afghans  and  wonder  about  2300  A.D. 
Could  that  be  one  explanation  of  your  differences  with  the  Com- 
munists?" 

"Don't  be  so  polite,"  he  cautioned.  "It's  not  like  you." 

"The  Communists  are  the  best  fighters  in  Spain." 

"Also  the  best  intriguers,"  he  added.  Then  he  went  into  a  reverie, 
and  when  he  came  out  of  it  he  said,  "You  think  I  am  a  pessimist.  My 
people  are  hungry.  Whoever  wins  this  war,  Spain  will  be  laid  low  by 
famine  when  it  is  over.  Day  by  day,  I  watch  everybody  around  me 
growing  thinner.  ...  I  am  the  only  exception,"  he  chuckled,  clasp- 
ing his  fat  flanks. 

"The  Fascists  want  our  raw  materials,"  he  asserted.  "Well,  perhaps 
there  is  a  maldistribution  of  the  wealth  of  the  world.  Perhaps  an 
adjustment  could  be  found  which  would  cost  fewer  human  lives." 

This  idea  of  Fascist  "Have-nots"  is  a  profound  fallacy.  It  is  not 
for  raw  materials  or  colonization  that  die  totalitarians  want  new 
territories.  Italy  did  not  go  to  Abyssinia  for  wealth.  Prieto  did  not 
insist  on  his  point  of  view.  He  was  not  in  a  controversial  mood. 

It  grew  cold.  We  finished  our  cognac  and  Prieto  said  he  had  to 
go  back  to  Valencia  to  work.  In  the  car,  I  said,  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  an  unpleasant  subject." 
.  "Namely?" 

"Constancia." 

He  looked  up  in  astonishment.  I  assured  him  I  agreed  that  she  had 
violated  every  canon,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  substitute 
for  her  and  Loyalist  propaganda  abroad  would  suffer. 

"I  swear  to  you,"  he  declared  with  customary  emphasis,  "that  I 
did  not  act  out  of  personal  motives.  Only  this  morning  I  sat  at  the 


460      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

sick-bed  of  Ignacio,  her  husband.  I  admire  his  work  and  respect  him. 
I  have  nothing  against  Constancia  either.  But  she  is  a  Maura  and  like 
her  famous  grandfather  Don  Antonio  Maura,  Prime  Minister  of 
Spain,  she  is  brusque.  And  sometimes  hysterical.  She  does  things  this 
way."  He  threw  his  arm  swiftly  from  one  side  of  the  car  to  the  other 
and  shouted,  "Bah,  bah,  bah." 

"Anyway,"  Prieto  agreed  after  more  conversation  on  the  matter, 
"it's  up  to  Negrin.  Let  him  do  as  he  pleases."  This  was  exactly 
what  I  hoped  he  would  say.  That  evening  I  repeated  this  to  Negrin. 
Negrin  said  he  wanted  to  establish  a  press  department  in  the  Presi- 
dencia  and  might  take  Constancia  into  that,  but  in  any  case  her  serv- 
ices would  not  be  lost.  "I  will  take  the  matter  up  with  Giral  tomor- 
row," Negrin  declared. 

I  asked  Negrin  whether  it  would  help  if  the  correspondents  signed 
a  petition  asking  for  the  reinstatement  of  Madame  de  la  Mora.  He 
thought  it  wouldn't  hurt.  Early  that  afternoon,  a  blond  young  United 
Press  correspondent,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  had  been  collect- 
ing correspondents'  signatures  on  such  a  petition.  My  experience  was 
chiefly  Russian,  and  in  Moscow  an  official  who  had  sinned  would 
be  endangered  by  the  support  of  foreign  journalists.  So  I  advised  the 
U.P.  man  to  hold  up  the  petition.  Now  I  went  back  to  him,  signed  it, 
urged  him  to  get  all  the  men  to  sign  and  also  to  telephone  Madrid 
and  get  the  signatures  of  Herbert  Matthews,  Ernest  Hemingway, 
and  die  other  correspondents  there.  In  a  few  days,  Constancia  was 
back  at  her  job  in  the  Foreign  Office  press  section, 

(When  I  returned  to  Spain  in  December,  1937,  one  of  my  first 
visits  was  to  Gonstancia.  She  received  me  with  calculated  rudeness. 
I  said,  "What's  the  matter?"  Her  chin  quivered  and  she  said,  "You 
had  me  discharged."  The  injustice  of  the  accusation  sickened  me. 
I  asked  her  what  made  her  think  so.  She  said  I  had  refused  to  sign 
the  petition.  I  told  her  about  my  conversations  with  Negrin.  She 
could  ask  Otto  Katz  and  others  about  one  of  them  or  Negrin  about 
all  of  them.  She  could  ask  her  close  friend,  Gisela  Bauer,  about  my 
argument  with  Prieto  about  her. 

"Besides,"  I  begged,  "ask  the  U.P.  correspondent  whether  I  didn't 
sign  the  petition  in  the  end."  I  explained  why  I  hadn't  in  the  first 
place. 

She  said  she  took  my  word  for  it,  but  our  relations  thenceforth 
were  always  frigid  and  troubled.  Constancy's  animosity  had  a  deeper 
root  than  her  ignorance  of  my  efforts  to  have  her  restored  to  office. 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  461 

The  Spanish  Communists  resented  my  good  relations  with  Negrin, 
Prieto,  Azafia,  and  other  Loyalist  leaders,  and  tried  to  interfere  with 
them.  Constancia  told  American  visitors  that  my  friendship  with 
Negrin  had  been  spoiled,  and  when  in  May,  1939, 1  arrived  in  New 
York  on  the  Normtmdie  with  Negrin,  thus  giving  the  lie  to  such 
canards,  she  refused  to  speak  to  me.  She  has  not  spoken  to  me  since. 
I  had  never  done  her  any  harm.  In  fact,  despite  her  hostility  towards 
me,  I  persuaded  del  Vayo  to  take  her  to  Geneva  as  press  aide  in  May, 
1938,  because  I  thought  she  would  be  effective  there.) 

In  addition  to  Negrin,  Prieto,  and  del  Vayo,  I  saw  many  Spanish 
and  non-Spanish  friends.  I  noticed  that  since  my  last  visit  in  July, 
1937,  the  compromisers  among  the  Loyalists  had  abandoned  their 
hope  for  a  negotiated  peace.  They  had  realized  that  Hitler,  Musso- 
lini, and  Franco  were  not  businessmen  seeking  money  or  peace,  but 
power  men  after  power  and  strategic  positions.  The  skeptics  of  the 
type  of  Prieto,  Azafia,  and  Giral  had  shifted;  they  thought  the  Loyal- 
ists could  win  the  war  by  waiting  and  remaining  on  the  defensive. 

I  found  documentary  proof  of  this  attitude  in  a  report  which 
Foreign  Minister  Giral  had  submitted  to  the  Loyalist  government 
about  his  trip  to  Czechoslovakia  to  represent  Spain  at  the  funeral  of 
Thomas  Masaryk  in  September,  1937.  Negrin  gave  me  a  copy  which 
I  have  before  me.  Giral  had  a  cordial  interview  with  President  Benes. 
BeneS  had  always  been  pro-Loyalist.  The  probable  sequence  of 
events  in  Europe  did  not  elude  his  keen  eye,  and  he  knew  that  the 
fate  of  his  own  country  hung  on  Spain.  He  helped  the  Loyalists  to 
get  arms,  but  his  Prime  Minister  Hodza  and  other  reactionaries  inter- 
fered when  they  could.  Full  of  sympathy,  Benes  inquired  after  Loyal- 
ist prospects.  Giral  said  that  the  military  situation  had  reached  an 
equilibrium.  The  Republicans  expected  Franco  to  encounter  mount- 
ing troubles  with  his  civilian  population  and  in  that  way  succumb. 

In  Prague,  Giral  also  talked  with  Leon  Blum.  Blum  asked  about 
the  political  situation  in  the  Loyalist  zone.  Giral  said  that  Republican 
policy  "far  from  being  in  the  hands  of  the  Communists,  was  directed 
by  men  like  Prieto  and  Negrin  who  were  actuated  by  the  highest 
nationalist  sentiments  and  by  an  independence  of  character  which  did 
not  admit  of  foreign  pressure."  He  thought  offensives  too  expensive; 
the  Loyalists  could  win  the  war  if  they  strived  only  for  local  mili- 
tary gains,  meanwhile  doing  what  they  could  to  undermine  morale 
in  Franco  territory. 


462      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Giral  asked  Blum  whether  it  was  true  that  several  members  of  the 
French  cabinet  desired  the  exclusion  of  the  Communist  members  of 
the  Loyalist  government.  Blum  declared  that  the  retirement  of  the 
Communists  would  make  no  difference  in  the  general  attitude 
towards  Spain. 

(Several  months  later,  Clement  R.  Attlee,  the  British  labor  leader, 
returning  from  his  visit  to  Spain,  dropped  in  to  see  Blum  in  Paris, 
and  Blum  put  to  Attlee  the  question  which  Giral  had  put  to  him 
in  Prague.  Attlee  replied  just  as  Blum  had,  "It  doesn't  make  much 
difference  who  constitutes  the  Loyalist  cabinet;  to  the  reactionaries 
it  will  always  be  a  'Red'  government.") 

The  Loyalists  were  now  convinced  that  the  war  would  last  at 
least  another  year  and  perhaps  two.  I  asked  Negrin  whether  the 
money  would  last.  He  said  it  depended  on  the  rate  of  expenditure, 
but  he  trusted  that  they  could  make  ends  meet  for  nearly  two  years. 
With  this  in  view,  they  were  stimulating  the  export  of  fruit,  mercury, 
potash,  and  other  products. 

Imports,  on  the  other  hand,  were  being  curtailed,  and  the  result 
showed  in  the  sad  thin  faces  of  Spaniards.  Yet  there  was  enthusiasm 
and  faith  everywhere,  and  the  nearer  one  got  to  the  front  the  better 
grew  the  spirit.  I  looked  at  these  people  and  I  said  to  myself,  "They 
are,  after  all,  fighting  and  suffering  for  things  that  are  mine,  that  are 
important  to  me.  They  are  resisting  Fascism  and  upholding  freedom. 
They  pay  heavily  for  it.  If  only  the  world  could  be  made  to  realize 
this.  If  only  the  democracies  could  see  Spain  in  this  light.  Spain  was 
paying  to  fight  the  battle  of  the  democratic  world.  Couldn't  the 
democracies  share  some  of  the  cost.  Did  the  Spaniards  have  to  stand 
the  bombs,  feel  the  steel,  and  also  go  hungry?  At  least  the  world 
could  send  food." 

I  felt  this  more  poignantly  when  I  left  Spain  and  saw  the  full- 
stocked  stores  and  die  fat  bellies  and  sated  looks  of  the  French  and 
then  of  the  British.  Charity  alone  should  have  sent  trainloads  of  food 
into  Spain,  and  political  considerations  should  have  made  the  trains 
longer,  heavier,  more  numerous.  Yet  to  the  end,  Spanish  stomachs 
grumbled  with  emptiness  while  bombs  crashed  and  shells  burst. 
Mothers  in  black  refused  to  give  up  their  places  in  food  queues  when 
the  air-raid  alarm  sounded.  In  Madrid,  I  saw  five  women  killed  in  a 
milk  queue,  and  blood  from  their  bodies  ran  down  into  the  gutter  to 
mingle  with  streams  of  milk  from  their  pitchers.  We  are  all  callous 
hypocrites,  and  we  enjoy  life  though  we  are  aware  of  the  homeless 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  463 

and  hungry  below  our  windows.  But  those  who  saw  the  misery  and 
glory  of  the  Spanish  Republic  could  not  be  silent  or  idle.  Many  of 
the  foreign  correspondents  who  visited  the  Franco  zone  became 
Loyalists,  but  practically  all  of  the  numerous  journalists  and  other 
visitors  who  went  into  Loyalist  Spain  became  active  friends  of  the 
cause.  Even  the  foreign  diplomats  and  military  attach6s  scarcely 
disguised  their  admiration.  Only  a  soulless  idiot  could  have  failed 
to  understand  and  sympathize. 

In  Paris,  Madame  Genevieve  Tabouis,  diplomatic  correspondent 
of  the  liberal  UCEuvre,  was  a  consistent  protagonist  of  the  Spanish 
Republic.  She  knew  everybody  of  importance  in  France  and  was 
an  old  friend  of  ex-Premier  Herriot.  She  could  phone  foreign  min- 
isters, cabinet  members,  and  diplomats  and  ask  them  for  information 
and  opinions  which  the  next  day  appeared  in  her  column.  Frequently 
she  invited  such  people  to  her  apartment.  One  evening  in  November, 
1937,  she  gave  a  dinner  attended  by  Herriot,  the  Spanish  Ambassador 
Ossorio  y  Gallardo,  the  Soviet  Ambassador  Suritz,  ex-Premier  Nitti 
of  Italy,  M.  Paul-Boncour,  former  Prime  Minister  and  Foreign  Min- 
ister of  France,  and  several  other  ambassadors  and  journalists.  I  sat 
next  to  Nitti.  Ossorio  held  the  floor  often  throughout  the  evening. 
He  was  a  conservative  Catholic  and  fiery  advocate  with  a  loud  voice 
and  no  inhibiting  discretion.  Much  to  the  obvious  embarrassment  of 
his  colleague  Suritz,  Ossorio  disclosed  that  two  Soviet  ships  were 
waiting  in  Channel  ports  to  unload  airplanes  for  Spain  but  could  not 
get  the  permission  to  do  so.  Herriot  was  surprised.  Ossorio  told  how 
a  single  customs  official  in  a  Pyrenees  town  or  an  employee  of  the 
Finance  Ministry  might  hold  up  valuable  munitions  shipments.  "And 
now  the  French  frontier  is  open,"  Ossorio  remarked  sarcastically. 
"You  can  imagine  what  happens  when  it  is  closed."  Herriot  prom- 
ised to  make  inquiries.  He  was  Speaker  of  Parliament  and  exercised 
considerable  influence.  But  he  was  fat  and  lazy  and  shrank  from 
political  responsibility. 

A  few  days  later  I  flew  over  to  London.  In  international  affairs, 
France  had  become  the  trailer  behind  England's  auto.  That  did  not 
mean  that  Paris  had  no  independence.  It  meant  that  it  had  less  inde- 
pendence. 

The  British  co-operative  movement  was  collecting  money  for  food 
for  Spain.  Labor  was  starting  to  campaign  for  Spain.  A  Popular  Front 
committee,  consisting  of  Communists,  Laborites,  Liberals  like  Wil- 


464      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

frid  Roberts,  M.P.,  and  Conservatives  like  Katherine,  Duchess  of 
Atholl,  was  especially  active.  I  went  to  see  them  to  talk  of  Spain's 
sufferings  and  needs. 

Clement  R.  Attlee,  the  leader  of  the  Labor  Party,  had  written  an 
introduction  to  my  "Why  Spain  Fights  On"  pamphlet.  I  called  on 
him  in  the  big  office  given  to  him  by  the  government  in  the  House 
of  Commons.  While  I  talked  he  sucked  his  pipe  and  said,  "Quite" 
and  "Right."  I  had  a  card  to  him  from  Negrin,  and  in  Negrin's  name 
invited  him  to  lead  a  Labor  delegation  to  Spain.  He  was  noncom- 
mittal, but  later  he  accepted,  and  in  December  he  took  the  trip  with 
Philip  Noel-Baker,  M.P.,  and  Ellen  Wilkinson,  M.P. 

Ellen  Wilkinson,  diminutive  redhead,  was  the  heart  and  fire  of 
the  pro-Loyalist  work  in  England  throughout  the  Spanish  War.  (In 
1940,  she  was  the  only  woman  member  of  the  British  war  govern- 
ment.) As  a  member  of  the  executive  committee  of  the  British  Labor 
party,  she  exercised  influence  among  the  leaders,  and  her  oratory, 
fervor,  and  hard  work  made  her  very  popular  among  workingmen. 
She  is  indefatigable.  She  addressed  meetings,  wrote  articles,  organized 
committees,  called  committee  meetings,  traveled  up  and  down  the 
country,  and  shot  brilliant  questions  at  complacent  ministers  in  the 
House  of  Commons. 

Question  Time  often  is  the  most  interesting  period  in  the  British 
Parliament.  The  House  meets  at  2.45  P.M.  every  weekday,  except 
Friday  and  sometimes  Thursday  when  it  assembles  at  1 1  A.M.  It  usu- 
ally adjourns  at  n  P.M.  After  the  bewigged  speaker  has  slow- 
marched  into  the  chamber  followed  by  a  somber  individual  carrying 
his  train;  another  carrying  a  sword,  and  a  third  the  gold  (or  is  it 
gilded? )  mace  of  authority,  and  taken  his  padded  seat  on  an  elevated 
and  canopied  throne,  the  first  thing  on  the  agenda  is  Questions.  Most 
of  the  MJP.'s  are  there,  tightly  packed  together  on  tiers  of  long 
benches  covered  with  black  leather.  The  government  supporters  are 
on  the  Speaker's  right.  Facing  them  is  the  Opposition:  Labor,  Lib- 
erals, and  the  sole  Communist.  A  broad  aisle  down  the  center  sep- 
arates the  two  "hostile  camps."  Ministers,  and  Attlee,  often  put  their 
feet  on  the  secretaries'  table  that  forms  the  barrier  between  the  min- 
isters* Front  Bench  and  the  Opposition  Front  Bench. 

The  few  visitors  occupy  galleries  running  around  the  walls  of  the 
small  chamber.  Those  with  very  good  hearing  can  catch  much  of 
what  is  said  below.  Questions  have  been  submitted  in  advance.  Min- 
isters must  answer  all  questions  unless  it  is  "not  in  the  public  interest" 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  465 

to  do  so.  The  questions  of  the  government  supporters  serve  to  bring 
out  the  achievements  of  the  government.  But  others  may  nettle  their 
ministers.  The  Opposition  questions  are  calculated  to  embarrass  the 
government  and  elicit  information  that  might  be  useful  to  attack  the 
government's  policy.  Ministers'  replies  arouse  noisy  approval  from 
their  friends,  and  laughter  or  cries  of  "Shame"  or  angry  replies  from 
the  Opposition.  Questions  are  frequently  put  down  to  get  publicity 
for  some  outrage  at  home  or  abroad.  In  this  way,  many  of  the  most 
flagrant  British  sins  of  commission  and  omission  are  brought  to  the 
public's  attention. 

England  is  the  land  of  clubs.  Every  gentleman  feels  that  he  must 
belong  to  a  club.  It  is  his  cafe,  restaurant,  meeting  place,  and  read- 
ing place.  The  House  of  Commons,  they  say,  is  England's  best  club. 
Deep  in  its  recesses  are  spacious  smoking  rooms  where  no  women 
are  admitted  and  where  tea  and  alcohol  are  served.  It  has  a  restaurant 
in  which,  by  English  standards,  fair  food  is  served.  None  of  these 
places  admits  a  visitor  who  is  not  accompanied  by  an  M.P.  and  in 
none  can  you  make  even  a  pretense  at  paying  the  bill.  The  M.P.  pays. 

To  the  dark  central  lobby  of  the  House  of  Commons— from  which 
a  corridor  leads  to  the  less  important,  neglected  House  of  Lords- 
come  people  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  the  empire,  and  the  world. 
They  fill  out  a  green  card  and  give  it  to  a  giant  Bobby.  He  is  the 
page.  Soon  the  M.P.  comes  out  to  lead  you  to  the  tea  room  or  terrace 
over  the  Thames  for  a  drink  or  into  the  gallery  to  listen.  Privileged 
visitors  are  taken  to  the  inner  lobby  where  the  M.P.*s  congregate. 

In  the  House  any  afternoon  I  would  meet  a  dozen  interesting  and 
influential  people  who  had  the  same  sympathies  as  I  had.  One  after- 
noon, the  Duchess  of  Atholl  invited  me  to  tea  in  the  House.  Her 
husband,  the  Duke,  is  one  of  the  biggest  landholders  in  Scotland^ 
and  she  is  no  radical.  But  she  had  gone  to  Madrid  and  thenceforth? 
she  worked  as  hard  for  Loyalist  Spain  as  anybody  in  the  realm/In 
her  oldfashioned  black  silk  dress  that  fell  to  her  shoetops  she 
sit  on  the  platf orm,  at  Spain  meetings,  with  Communists, 
socialists,  workingmen,  and  demobilized  International 
appeal  for  help  for  the  Republicans.  She  would  int 
body  who  had  been  to  Spain  and  hang  on  their  words 
of  them  in  a  book  filled  with  her  illegible  scrawl. 

The  Duchess  was  pro-Loyalist  on  humanitarian 
cause  she  is  a  good  British  imperialist.  At  one  ti 
crusade  in  the  House  of  Commons  against 


466      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

she  said  to  me,  "When  they  call  me  an  agent  of  the  Comintern 
because  I  am  a  friend  of  the  Spanish  Republic  I  think  of  how  wrong 
I  may  have  been  when  I  accused  people  of  being  Comintern  agents." 

We  sat  drinking  tea  and  eating  buttered  toast.  "That's  General 
Speers,"  she  said,  indicating  a  stately  gentleman.  Speers  is  a  Con- 
servative  M.P.,  prominent  friend  of  France  and  especially  of  Czecho- 
slovakia. He  and  I  exchanged  a  few  sentences  and  then  he  invited 
me  to  have  a  drink  with  him  the  next  afternoon.  After  questions, 
the  MJP.'s  troop  out  in  scores  to  keep  such  appointments  in  various 
corners  of  the  House  labyrinth.  When  I  saw  him  I  emphasized  the 
relationship  between  Spain  and  Czechoslovakia.  He  was  skeptical. 
(We  met  again  after  Munich,  and  he  said,  "I'm  afraid  you  were 
right.") 

Sir  Archibald  Sinclair,  poised  Liberal  statesman,  Minister  of  Air 
during  the  second  World  War,  took  me  to  dinner  in  the  House 
dining  room  and  asked  about  Loyalist  problems.  He  offered  to  have 
me  meet  Lloyd  George.  I  was  delighted.  Lloyd  George's  secretary 
telephoned  in  the  morning  and  gave  me  an  appointment  for  Novem- 
ber 26,  at  4  P.M.  in  the  House.  Lloyd  George  had  his  own  private 
office  there.  He  inquired  about  domestic  manufacture  of  munitions 
in  Spain.  "I  was  Minister  of  Munitions,  you  know,"  he  said.  He 
complained  that  he  was  beginning  to  forget  names,  but  he  thought 
that  some  of  the  experts  who  helped  him  in  1916,  1917,  and  1918 
might  give  their  services  now  to  the  Republicans.  "Go  and  see  Sir 
Walter  Layton,"  he  urged.  Layton  had  been  his  right-hand  man  in 
the  Ministry  of  Munitions.  (He  was  a  key  member  of  the  British 
Purchasing  agency  in  the  United  States  in  the  second  World  War.) 
Layton  edited  the  London  Economist  and  the  daily  News  Chronicle. 
^loyd  George's  secretary  made  the  appointment  for  me,  and  Layton 
afcked  me  to  dinner  at  his  club  on  Pall  Mall. 

nlMy  date  book  shows  that  during  that  fortnight  in  London  I  saw: 
.  Noel-Baker;  Attlee— twice;  John  Middleton,  secretary  of  the 
,  who  was  remarkably  well-read  in  American  magazines; 
,  Conservative  M.P.;  D.  N.  Pritt;  Sir  Stafford  Cripps 
e  Russell  Strauss,  left-wing  Labor  M.P.'s;  Victor  Gordon- 
correspondent  of  the  conservative  Daily  Tele- 
graph;  Captain  Liddell  Hart,  military  correspondent  of  the  London 
his  paper,  pro-Loyalist;  J.  B.  S.  Haldane,  the 
Paul  Robeson;  Vernon  Bartlett,  liberal  col- 
Ivan  Maisky,  Soviet  Ambassador;  Pablo 


CONFIDENCE  AND  HUNGER  467 

Azcarate,  Spanish  Ambassador;  Lord  Kinouel,  Labor  peer;  Eleanor 
Rathbone,  Independent  M.P.;  Stephen  Spender,  radical  poet;  Herbert 
Morrison,  Labor  leader;  Irene  Ward  and  Macnamara,  Conservative 
M.P.'s;  Harold  J.  Laski,  in  his  London  school;  A.  V.  Alexander, 
M.P.  (First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  in  the  Labor  government  and 
again  in  the  second  World  War) ;  Tabouis  who  had  come  to  London 
on  a  visit;  Kingsley  Martin,  editor  of  the  New  Statesman  and  Nation; 
Harry  Pollitt,  secretary  of  the  British  Communist  party,  a  fine  work- 
ingman  type;  H.  Noel  Brailsford,  Labor  publicist;  W.  Dobbie,  an 
ex-workingman,  jolly  and  round,  passionately  devoted  to  his  class 
and  to  Spain,  now  a  Labor  M.P.;  and  the  Duchess  and  Ellen  Wilkin- 
son several  times. 

Brailsford  combines  fine  intellect  and  a  deep  romantic  strain.  He 
is  a  Byron.  He  enlisted  in  the  Greek  army  during  the  1921  war  with 
Turkey.  He  wished  to  enlist  in  the  International  Brigade  and  was 
dissuaded  only  with  difficulty  by  his  friends  who  told  him  he  was 
no  longer  young.  He  had  been  very  pro-Soviet  and  written  pro- 
Soviet  articles  and  books.  The  Moscow  purges  caused  him  suffering. 
He  turned  against  Russia.  My  own  views  were  such  that  I  could  not 
differ  with  him  too  radically.  Yet  I  pleaded  for  "a  truce  on  Russia 
because  of  Spain."  We  had  to  concentrate  on  positive  work  for  Spain 
instead  of  on  negative  work  against  Russia.  Once  we  went  together 
by  taxi  to  a  Spain  conference  in  the  Friends'  House  near  Euston 
where  he  was  to  speak.  We  paid  the  driver  two  shillings.  The  driver 
saw  the  crowd  outside.  "Will  there  be  a  collection  for  Spain?"  the 
driver  asked,  and  when  Brailsford  said  yes,  he  handed  us  back  the 
coin  and  told  us  it  was  his  contribution. 

Ivan  Maisky,  the  Soviet  envoy  in  London,  was  one  of  die  first 
Soviet  officials  I  had  met  in  1922  when  he  worked  in  the  press  de- 
partment of  the  Commissariat  of  Foreign  Affairs.  A  former  Menshe- 
vik,  like  several  other  Soviet  envoys  abroad,  ability,  hard  work,  and 
discretion  lifted  him  high  in  Bolshevik  rank.  A  Soviet  Ambassador 
in  England  during  the  appeasement  years  and  the  Spanish  War 
needed  a  great  deal  of  patience  and  restraint  and  a  gullet  that  could 
swallow  jibes,  rebuffs,  and  insults.  Maisky  had  these  qualities.  Mai- 
sky's  services  to  Loyalist  Spain  are  not  forgotten  even  by  those  who 
now  abhor  Russia's  foreign  policy;  Maisky  as  a  member  of  the  Non- 
intervention Committee  at  times  devoted  as  much  time  to  Spanish 
affairs  as  to  Soviet  politics,  and  he  was  in  a  way  a  second  Loyalist 
Ambassador  in  London.  Diligently  and  with  infinite  care,  he  culti- 


468      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

vated  numerous  important  individuals  in  British  political  life.  His 
attractive  wife  added  to  his  popularity  in  high  society. 

Every  ambassador  anywhere  is  a  lobbyist  and  propagandist.  Usu- 
ally he  works  at  teas  and  dinners.  But  in  London  an  ambassador  has 
another  arena,  the  House  of  Commons.  Compared  to  London,  Paris 
was  always  politically  dead.  Members  of  Parliament  had  their  eyes 
and  ears  wide  open  and  liked  to  listen.  If  Edgar  A.  Mowrer  had  a 
scheme  to  help  China  or  boiled  over  with  indignation  about  some 
French  stupidity  he  flew  to  London  to  see  Winston  Churchill  or 
Hugh  Dalton,  the  Laborite,  or  some  other  British  politician.  Renter's 
man  Swire  came  back  from  Barcelona  and  looked  for  air-raid  shelters 
in  London  and  found  none  and  made  himself  a  one-citizen  committee 
to  interview  Eden  and  others  on  this  deficiency.  In  Paris  such  busi- 
ness was  always  backstairs  intrigue  or  worse. 

In  the  first  fortnight  of  December,  I  was  back  in  Barcelona.  The 
Loyalists,  fighting  like  lions  on  ice-covered  crags,  had  captured 
Teruel,  a  city  at  the  point  of  a  dangerous  salient  threatening  Valencia. 
The  Republicans  had  also  stepped  up  their  home  production  of  muni- 
tions and  were  beginning  to  turn  out  airplanes  modeled  on  the  Soviet 
Chato.  Army  discipline  was  tighter.  "The  war  will  probably  go  on 
until  1939,"  I  wired  The  Nation.  This,  I  said,  irked  Hitler  and  Mus- 
solini. "Germany  and  Italy  are  eager  to  see  the  end.  If  they  swallow 
Spain,  Germany  will  be  free  to  launch  the  next  adventure.  Czecho- 
slovakia, Austria  .  .  .";  the  cost  of  intervention  in  Spain  "weighs 
heavily  on  Italy."  Arms  were  coming  down  from  France  into  Cata- 
lonia—Soviet arms  and  Czech  arms.  "The  new  French  stand  .  .  . 
raises  the  price  of  intervention  to  Germany  and  Italy.  Poor  Spain  is 
sapping  the  vitality  of  world  Fascism.  Should  China  resist  as  long  as 
Spain  has,  the  international  outlook  would  grow  much  brighter.  .  .  . 
If  the  non-Fascist,  status  quo,  pacifist  nations  got  together,  the  un- 
holy triple  alliance  of  territory-grabbing  pirates  could  be  stopped. 
Spain's  heroic  fight  has  made  this  a  concrete  possibility." 

I  was  in  New  York  for  Christmas.  I  still  get  excitement  out  of 
these  quick  jumps  from  one  world  into  another,  from  bombs  in 
Barcelona  to  crowds  in  Times  Square. 


28.  What  Would  Happen  If  .  .  .? 

I  THINK  the  most  widespread  American  disease  is  the  desire  to 
know  what  will  happen.  The  most  frequent  question  at  lectures 
in  the  United  States  is,  ccWhat  would  happen  if  .  .  .?"  "Will  a 
defeated  Germany  go  Bolshevik?"  "Will  England  adopt  socialism  if 
it  wins  the  war?"  "What  will  Russia  do?" 

Now  a  lecturer  has  a  question,  "What  would  happen  if  you  knew 
what  would  happen?  Suppose  I  or  I  and  a  thousand  others  told  you 
what  would  happen  if.  Would  it  make  any  difference?" 

This  is  one  of  the  gravest  problems  of  modern  democracies.  What 
is  the  duty  of  those  who  think  they  know  what  will  happen  if? 
Pertinax,  Emile  Bur6,  and  Genevieve  Tabouis  told  France  that 
further  appeasement  would  kill  her.  Pierre  Cot,  Georges  Mandel,  and 
a  few  other  French  politicians  issued  similar  warnings  from  minis- 
terial offices.  Nobody  paid  any  heed.  In  England  Winston  Churchill 
beat  the  tom-toms,  Sir  Archibald  Sinclair  sounded  the  alarm,  Labor 
party  spokesmen  painted  the  future  in  sinister  colors.  But  Neville 
Chamberlain,  Sir  Horace  Wilson,  Sir  John  Simon,  Sir  Samuel  Hoare 
gaily  went  on  appeasing  forever  until  they  appeased  themselves  and 
innocent  millions  into  the  worst  war  in  history. 

If  nobody  had  foreseen  what  would  happen  if,  the  tragedy  would 
not  be  so  horrible.  But  hundreds  delineated  the  exact  contours  of  the 
tragedy  that  would  lead  to  the  second  World  War.  And  it  didn't 
help. 

General  Douglas  MacArthur,  former  U.  S.  Chief  of  Staff,  has  said, 
"The  history  of  failure  in  war  can  almost  be  summed  up  in  two 
words:  Too  LATE."  Those  two  little  words  also  sum  up  the  history 
of  our  late  peace.  If  those  who  now  understand  would  have  under- 
stood two  years  earlier,  three  years  earlier,  many  calamities  might 
have  been  avoided;  the  great  calamity  might  have  been  avoided.  I  do 
not  believe  the  War  was  inevitable. 

JJnffffient  Roosevelt,  practically  done  among  the  democratic  states- 
men in  officerfor^wme^gatlieri^  storm.  He  spoke  of  it  in  a  mes- 
sage to  Congress  in  January,  1936.  JHe  pointed  directly  to  it  in  his 

D  -»  *~  ~™ 


*70      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

famous  Chicago  speech  on  October  5,  1937.  "The  present  reign  of 
terror  and  lawlessness  began  several  years  ago,"  he  said,  ".  .  .  and 
has  now  reached  a  stage  where  the  very  foundations  of  civilization 
are  seriously  threatened."  He  obviously  referred  to  Abyssinia,  Spain, 
and  China.  "Civilians,  including  women  and  children,  are  being  ruth- 
lessly murdered  with  bombs  from  the  air.  In  times  of  so-called  peace 
ships  are  being  attacked  and  sunk  by  submarines  without  cause  or 
notice.  Nations  are  fomenting  and  taking  sides  in  civil  warfare  in 
nations  that  have  never  done  them  any  harm."  That  could  only 
mean  Spain.  "Nations  claiming  freedom  for  themselves  deny  it  to 
others"— a  smack  at  Hitler  yearning  to  impose  a  worse  Versailles  on 
others. 

The  President  called  on  peace-loving  nations  to  "make  a  con- 
certed effort."  The  peace,  freedom,  and  security  of  ninety  percent 
of  the  population  of  the  world  was  "being  jeopardized  by  the  remain- 
ing ten  percent  who  are  threatening  a  breakdown  of  all  international 
law  and  order."  He  therefore  advocated  a  "quarantine"  of  the  aggres- 
sor nations.  This  policy,  if  adopted,  could  have  preserved  the  peace 
of  the  world.  But  Europe  did  not  hear.  Even  America  refused  to 
listen. 

Roosevelt  was  bitterly  opposed  to  appeasement  from  the  very 
beginning.  But  his  two  most  important  ambassadors  in  Europe  were 
not.  Joseph  P.  Kennedy  admired  and  abetted  Chamberlain's  appease- 
ment policy.  William  C.  Bullitt  praised  Daladier's  foreign  policy.  He 
did  so  talking  to  me  and  to  others.  And  of  course  gentlemen  occupy- 
ing important  jobs  in  the  State  Department  did  not  see  eye  to  eye 
with  the  President.  One  might  think  that  did  not  matter.  They  were 
his  public  servants.  No.  The  man  who  executes  policy  day  by  day 
in  notes  and  negotiations  can  thwart  the  will  of  his  chief.  "A  govern- 
ment" is  an  abstraction.  It  consists  of  officials  representing  various 
trends,  often'  conflicting  trends,  and  some  of  them  get  an  oppor- 
tunity to  implement  their  personal  views  in  opposition  to  the  avowed 
policy  of  the  head  of  the  state. 

Appeasement  in  relation  to  Spain  took  the  form  of  Non-interven- 
tion which  enabled  Germany  ajid  Italy  to  intervene  on  behalf  of 
Franco,  and  Russia  to  intervene  on  behalf  of  the  Loyalists.  But  since 
Russia  encountered  difficulties  of  transport  and  transit,  this  gave  the 
advantage  to  Fascism.  America's  counterpart  to  Non-Intervention 
was  the  embargo  on  arms  shipments  to  Spain.  We  refused  to  sell 
arms  to  either  side.  That  looked  like  neutrality.  But  since  Franco 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  471 

had  all  the  arms  he  needed  and  the  Republic  did  not,  it  was  actually 
unfair  to  the  legal  Spanish  anti-Fascist  government.  The  United 
States  embargo  helped  Franco  win.  It  helped  Hitler  and  Mussolini 
to  win  in  Spain.  It  therefore  accelerated  the  war  crisis  of  September, 
1939. 

Those  who  knew  Europe  predicted  this  in  so  many  words.  We 
foretold  exactly  what  would  happen  if  Spain  fell.  But  the  aggeasgjs 
JiJ^  *n  U.  S.  embassies  abroad. 


President  Roosevelt  has  said  it.  "We  have  learned  the  lesson  of 
recent  years.  We  know  now  that  if  we  seek  to  appease  them  by 
withholding  aid  from  those  who  stand  in  their  way  we  only  hasten 
the  day  of  their  attack  on  us."—  Dayton,  October  12,  1940.  Spain 
taught  America  that  lesson. 

"You  cannot  appease  the  unappeasable,"  Mr.  Bullitt  said  at  Chi- 
cago on  October  21,  1940.  Too  true  .  .  .  and  too  late.  To  appease 
a  totalitarian  dictator  was  "useless,"  Bullitt  said.  He  should  have 
known  that  simple  truth  much  earlier. 

"Timidity,  weakness,  and  short-sightedness  .  .  .  governed  the  pol- 
icy of  the  confused  reactionary  governments  in  France  and  England 
before  the  war,"  President  Roosevelt  said  in  New  York  on  October 
29,  1940.  That  fact  was  discovered  too  late  in  France.  It  was  discov- 
ered just  in  time  in  Great  Britain. 

Appeasement  helped  to  make  the  second  World  War.  In  Spain, 
the  United  States  had  an  opportunity  to  turn  England  and  France 
away  from  appeasement.  The  question  of  the  American  embargo  on 
Spain  transcended  Spain.  If  the  President  had  lifted  the  embargo  he 
would  have  indicated  to  London  and  Paris  that  he  wanted  Loyalist 
Spain  to  win.  He  would  have  indicated  his  open  and  strong  dis- 
approval of  appeasement.  He  would  have  become  the  ally,  the  power- 
ful ally,  of  Winston  Churchill  who  was  fighting  Neville  Chamberlain 
and  of  the  true  French  democrats  who  were  fighting  Daladier  and 
Bonnet. 

This  is  not  hindsight.  On  January  13,  1939,  in  Washington,  Major 
George  Fielding  Eliot  spoke  at  a  private  dinner  of  the  Foreign  Policy 
Association.  Journalists,  State  Department  officials,  some  senators, 
including  Floor  Leader  Senator  Barkley  and  a  few  others—  about 
thirty  in  all—  were  present,  and  William  T.  Stone  presided.  I  got  into 
an  agitated  public  argument  with  Jerome  N.  Frank,  chairman  of  the 
SEC,  on  American  foreign  affairs,  and  I  declared,  "By  lifting  the 
embargo  on  Spain  we  can  oust  Chamberlain."  To  prevent  this, 


472      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Chamberlain's  crew  in  Washington  worked  hard,  and  effectively, 
against  the  lifting  of  the  embargo.  Catholics, in  Americg.  wejre^jrhe 
other  great  force  that  prevented  the  lifting  of  the  embargo.  ~  ^  fl 

ui__iii  i          >'  '    i        i      JT  -    -J--       -    ,  ,^ w  f> V.O.-K  ••».*•  •  ,.  •     ^     -,.•-•        O  ».  H  ,»*         *" 

Secretary  of  State  Hull  declared  on  October  26,  1940,  "By  1938 
there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  that  the  existence  of  the  arms  embargo 
provision  was  definitely  having  the  effect  of  making  widespread  war 
more  likely."  The  embargo  was  applied  only  to  Spain.  I  talked  with 
Mr.  Hull  in  the  State  Department  on  January  24,  1939,  and  even 
then  he  was  in  favor  of  lifting  the  embargo. 

The  Gallup  Poll  sounded  American  opinion  on  the  Spanish  strug-* 
gle  three  times:  in  February,  1937,  February,  1958,  and  December^ 
1938.  The  first  time  40%  expressed  views,  the  second  time  50%,: 
the  third  time  66%.  The  first  time,  65%  of  those  who  had  views 
were  pro-Loyalist,  the  second  time  75%,  the  third  time  76%.  The 
majority  of  Americans  favored  the  lifting  of  the  embargo.  Logic  and< 
common  sense  favored  it.  President  Roosevelt  and  Secretary  Hull 
favored  it.  But  it  was  not  lifted. 

Jay  Allen,  Hamilton  Fish  Armstrong,  Dorothy  Thompson,  Pro- 
fessor Walter  B.  Cannon  of  Harvard,  Archibald  MacLeish,  Henry  L. 
Stimson,  Josephine  Schain,  Raymond  Leslie  Buell,  Guy  Emery  Ship- 
ler,  A.  A.  Heller,  Bishop  Francis  J.  McConnell,  Paul  J.  Kern,  Secre- 
tary Ickes,  Dorothy  Kenyon,  Herman  F.  Reissig,  Congressman  Jerry 
O'Connell,  Ernest  Sutherland  Bates,  Paul  Kellogg,  Helen  Hall,  Freda 
Kirchwey,  John  Dewey,  Francis  J.  Gorman,  Frank  P.  Walsh,  Cath- 
olic attorney,  Miles  Sherover,  hundreds  of  newspaper  men  and  ed- 
itors, and  many  thousands  of  other  Americans  tried  to  induce  the 
XInited  States  government  to  cease  hampering  the  Spanish  Repub- 
Jic^eff orts  to  dfifeadjtself  agabst  bra^T^ff^pis^L  did  what little 
I  could  towards  the  sarn^endrTTpoEe^  on  tfieT  platform,  wrote  arti- 
cles, talked  to  senators  and  representatives  in  Washington,  and  on 
February  24,  1938,  made  a  plea  to  Mrs.  Roosevelt  in  the  White 
House. 

I  have  always  admired  and  applauded  President  Roosevelt's  numer- 
ous speeches  and  messages  on  foreign  policy.  I  like  his  personality. 
I  believe,  however,  t&aLJustory  will  record  the  failure  to  lift  the, 
embargo  as  a  blunder.  A  democratic  leader  must  give  ear  to  dissent- 
ing minorities  and  to  approving  majorities.  When  very  much  is  at 
stake— and  peace  for  Europe  was  the  stake  in  Spain—he  is  warranted 
in  ignoring  dissenters  in  the  hope  that  acts  will  convert  them  where 
words  have  not.  The  dictators,  unfortunately,  do  not  wait  for  the 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  473 

democracies  to  be  educated.  They  take  advantage  of  our  lack  of 
knowledge. 

I  have  seen  one  bomb  turn  a  Barcelona  woman's  coolness  for  the 
Republic  into  flaming  hatred  of  Franco.  Fifty  pounds  of  TNT  taught 
her  more  than  a  ton  of  educational  propaganda. 

The  day  after  my  talk  with  Mrs.  Roosevelt  I  kept  an  appointment 
with  Mrs.  Carrie  Chapman  Catt,  militant  pacifist,  a  remarkable  and 
venerable  fighter.  She  too  thought  the  embargo  ought  to  be  repealed. 
An  increasing  number  of  Americans  felt  that  our  neutrality  rendered 
unneutral  aid  to  the  aggressors.  In  private,  numerous  Catholics  also 
saw  the  wisdom  of  repealing  the  so-called  neutrality  legislation.  They 
knew  that  some  British  Catholics  and  the  bulk  of  French  Catholics 
were  pro-Loyalist.  The  Basque  Catholics  were  fighting  on  the  Loyal- 
ist side.  Hitler  was  persectuing  Catholics  in  Germany;  he  could  not 
be  working  for  them  in  Spain.  Franco  saving  Catholic  Spain  with 
Nazi  pagans  and  infidel  Moors  was  a  spectacle  that  revolted  many 
Catholics.  Jlut  the  discipline  of  the  .Roman  church  i?  strfc^and  fssi 
American  Catholics  expressed  pro-Loyalist  sentiments  in  public. 

One  reaction  to  the  Catholic  attitude  on  Spain  disturbed  me  pro- 
foundly. I  discovered  that  wide  sections  of  America  are  potentially 
very  anti-Catholic.  This  applies  not  only  to  the  South  or  to  Masons. 
Religious  intolerance  is  an  ugly  animal,  and  once  aroused  it  can 
divide  a  country  as  nothing  else  can.  I  met  Americans  of  all  shades 
of  political  opinion  who  were  irked  by  the  activity  of  Catholic 
churchmen  in  such  political  issues  as  those  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the 
World  Court,  child  labor,  and  American  foreign  policy  towards 
Spain.  Catholics,  needless  to  say,  can  do  anything  they  please  within 
the  law.  But  the  charges  I  heard  made  reference  to  sermons  in 
churches,  speeches  by  Catholic  leaders,  propaganda  in  the  Catholic 
press,  and  pressure  by  Catholic  groups.  Cardinal  O'Connell  said 
flatly,  in  an  interview  published  March  19,  1938,  several  days  after 
Franco's  airplanes  killed  hundreds  of  civilians  in. Barcelona,  that  the 
report  "is  a  lie."  This  injudicious  statement  still  makes  me  angry.  The 
bombing  is  an  historic  and  confirmed  truth.  Such  bombings  hap- 
pened too  many  times,  and  not  only  in  Barcelona.  Hundreds  of  towns 
were  bombed.  "General  Franco,"  the  Cardinal  continued,  "would 
not  dare  do  a  thing  like  that.  .  .  .  Franco  is  fighting  for  Christian 
civilization  in  Spain."  What  horrifying  nonsensel  Franco  was  fight- 
ing against  Christianity,  against  civilization,  against  Spain,  and  against 
peace. 


474      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

(I  never  believed  that  the  Catholic  church  would  benefit  from  a 
Franco  victory.  It  has  not.  Camille  M.  Cianfarfa  telegraphed  from 
Rome  to  his  paper,  the  New  York  Times,  on  January  26,  1940:  "A 
distressing  picture  of  the  political  aftermath  of  Generalissimo  Fran- 
cisco Franco's  victory  in  Spain  has  reached  the  Vatican.  According 
to  information  given  to  the  Papal  Secretariat  by  ca  very  reliable 
Spanish  source/  there  are  at  present  500,000  political  prisoners  in 
Spain.  .  .  .  Priests  still  held  in  Carmona  jails  number  sixty.  .  .  . 
Two  thousand  women,  it  is  said,  are  in  the  Bilbao  jails,  waiting  to 
learn  their  fate.  In  December,  twenty-five  persons  were  executed. 

"The  Vatican's  relations  with  Spain,"  the  dispatch,  obviously  based 
on  Papal  Inf ormation,  continued,  "leave  much  to  be  desiredj  iaccord- ' 
ing  to  some  Vatican  quarters,  where  it  was  noted  with  regret  that15 
in  General  Franco's  recent  speeches  and  in  those  of  other  authorita- 
tive representatives  of  his  government,  no  mention  was  made  of  the 
religious  reconstruction  that  should  be  undertaken  in  war-torn 
Spain."  Obviously.  Franco's  hands  are  too  red  with  the  blood  of 
innocent  Spaniards.  His  right  hand  is  befouled  by  the  touch  of 
Hitler.) 

Catholic  opposition  notwithstanding,  the  pro-Loyalist  movement 
assumed  vast  proportions  in  the  United  States.  Americans  inspired  by 
love  of  the  underdog,  love  of  freedom,  passionate  hatred  of  Fascism, 
and  a  concern  for  world  peace  gave  to  the  Spanish  Republic  their 
money,  time,  sympathy,  and  blood.  In  many  ways,  and  for  many 
people,  pro-Loyalism  represented  the  highest  peak  of  idealism  in 
America  between  the  first  World  War  and  the  second.  Loyalist  Spain 
was  an  unusually  attractive  cause.  A  poor  people,  long  ground  under 
the  heel  of  tyrants,  was  fighting  oath-breaking  generals.  The  generals 
were  aided  by  Hitler,  Mussolini,  and  the  Moors.  The  Republic 
fought  against  cruel  odds.  It  suffered  discriminations.  It  bounced 
back  after  the  worst  reverses.  Its  leaders  were  men  of  culture  and 
ideals.  Its  soldiers  were  brave,  barefooted,  ill-equipped,  and  hungry. 
Its  women  suffered  stoically  and  bent  their  haggard  bodies  over  their 
young  to  stay  the  shrapnel  of  Fascist  bombs.  America  saw  them  in 
the  newsreels  rushing  to  shelter  across  the  streets  of  Madrid,  drag- 
ging children  by  the  hand.  Barbarism  had  descended  on  a  civilized 
country.  Spain  pleaded  for  aid  and  the  western  governments  refused. 
The  finest  hearts  ached  for  the  Spanish  people,  and  the  finest  minds 
worried  about  it.  Powerless  to  do  much  they  sought  with  all  the 
greater  passion  to  do  more.  The  list  of  Americans  who  helped  the 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  475 

Loyalists  is  a  roll  of  honor.  The  passing  of  time,  and  the  softness 
of  some  other  nations  in  resisting  Fascist  attack,  make  the  Spanish 
struggle  stand  out  in  ever  more  glowing  colors. 

I  am  happy  I  did  my  bit.  I  am  sorry  it  was  so  small.  I  would  have 
given  all  that  I  had  for  a  democratic  victory  in  Spain.  In  the  dark  days 
when  the  Spanish  government's  strategy  was  being  crippled  by  the 
Alcazar  siege— September,  1936— a  group  of  correspondents  was  re- 
turning from  Toledo  in  a  car.  We  asked  one  another  what  we  would 
give  to  have  the  Loyalists  take  the  Alcazar.  Would  you  give  a  finger? 
Would  you  let  your  right  arm  be  cut  off?  (Would  you  today  allow 
your  right  arm  to  be  hacked  off  if  that  would  relieve  London  of  air 
raids  for  a  week? )  Such  questions  are  easy  to  answer  because  you 
know  they  are  rhetorical.  I  hate  to  sound  romantic  and  grandilo- 
quent. Yet  I  think  I  would  have  been  ready  to  die  j:o  defeat  Hitler, 
Mussolini,  and  Franco  in  Spain. 

I  returned  from  America  to  Paris  in  the  middle  ot  Marcn,  1938. 
That  week  Barcelona  suffered  the  worst  three  days  in  its  life.  For 
seventy-two  hours  Italian  and  German  giant  bombers  hammered 
the  big  city  with  heavy  bombs.  Hundreds  of  thousands  cowered  in 
the  subways  for  days  and  nights.  Others  fled  to  the  hills  and  slept 
there.  Work  in  offices  and  factories  languished.  French  newspapers 
carried  gruesome  details  of  the  skughter  and  long  lists  of  casualties. 
On  the  third  day  of  the  bombing  the  telephone  operator  in  my  Paris 
hotel  rang  and  said  Barcelona  was  calling  me  and  would  I  accept 
the  call.  Of  course  I  would.  Who  could  be  calling  me?  What  had 
happened?  Panic.  Fire  destroying  the  whole  city?  The  government 
fleeing?  Some  dear  friends  mangled  by  bombs?  I  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  then  tried  without  success  to  read.  The  telephone. 
The  voice  from  Barcelona:  "Hello,  this  is  Ivor  Montagu." 

"Ivor,  what  has  happened?"  I  shouted. 

"Listen,  Louis,"  he  softly  replied,  "do  you  think  we  could  find 
a  market  in  the  United  States  for  a  long  educational  film  I  have 
been  turning  here.  If  yes,  the  Spaniards  will  help  me  finance  the 
enterprise." 

My  first  impulse  was  to  tell  him  to  go  to  hell.  My  next  was  to 
be  endlessly  grateful.  Ivor's  inquiry  had  told  what  I  wanted  to  know 
about  the  situation  in  Barcelona. 

A  week  later  I  was  in  Barcelona  myself.  The  moment  I  crossed 
from  the  French  town  of  Le  Perthus  to  the  Spanish  frontier  town 


476      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

of  La  Jonquera  I  got  quiet  inside.  The  spirit  of  the  people  obviously 
was  unbroken— and  the  customs  official  put  on  white  cotton  gloves 
before  he  examined  the  things  in  my  suitcase.  He  had  not  had  them 
the  last  time. 

A  town  en  route  to  Barcelona  had  been  badly  bombed  just  before 
we  rode  into  it,  and  the  highway  was  littered  with  glass  bits,  rock, 
and  telegraph  wires.  Women  in  black  dug  their  fingers  into  their 
cheeks.  Clanging  ambulances  rushed  towards  the  big  hospital  in 
Barcelona.  Barcelona  itself  was  quiet  and  wounded.  I  first  went  to 
the  scenes  of  the  recent  bombings.  In  the  Calle  de  las  Corts  Cata- 
lanas  several  tremendous  apartment  houses  had  been  completely 
wrecked  and  in  pkces  pulverized.  A  Spanish  woman  who  had  gone 
down  there  immediately  after  a  bombing  told  me  that  she  had  waded 
to  her  shoetops  in  blood.  Scores  were  lolled  in  this  street  alone.  The 
broad  street  was  still  roped  off .  I  went  through  by  ignoring  the  po- 
licemen's summons  and  started  taking  photographs.  But  a  plain- 
clothes  man  quickly  overtook  me  and  arrested  me.  I  took  him  in 
my  car  to  Constancia  de  la  Mora's  office  and  she  had  him  release 
me.  At  the  Corts  Catalanas  one  saw  the  sight  that  always  follows 
bombings  of  homes:  women  digging  in  the  debris  searching  for 
clothes.  A  woman  would  find  a  sleeve  and  then  dig  more  carefully 
until  she  brought  out  a  dress  or  her  husband's  shirt.  Children  dug 
for  their  toys  and  for  pillows.  I  asked  a  little  girl  what  she  was  do- 
ing. "I'm  locking  for  my  doll,"  she  said. 

The  bombing  had  been  exceptionally  destructive  and  foreign  mil- 
itary journals  declared  the  Germans  had  been  experimenting  with 
new  explosives.  Hitler  used  Spain  as  a  testing  ground  for  weapons 
and  men.  The  Nazi  pilots  who  bombed  Poland,  Holland,  and  Lon- 
don got  their  first  experience  in  Spain.  Guernica  was  a  rehearsal  for 
Coventry;  Hitler  wanted  to  see  how  thoroughly  a  small  town  could 
be  wiped  out  from  the  air. 

Negrin  looked  depressed.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  so, 
"We  simply  haven't  enough  airplanes,"  he  said.  "If  France  doesn't 
help  quickly  we  are  lost."  The  Loyalists  had  practically  no  good 
bombers  and  only  one-third  as  many  fighters  as  the  Fascist  rebels. 
After  the  Teruel  victory,  Hitler  and  Mussolini  had  poured  vast 
quantities  of  stuff  into  Spain.  They  had  retaken  Teruel.  They  then 
started  pushing  on  the  Aragon  front  with  the  intention  of  reaching 
the  east  coast  and  cutting  off  Catalonia  from  Valencia  and  Madrid. 
In  this  Aragon  offensive,  the  American  contingent  of  the  Interna- 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  477 

tional  Brigade  took  a  terrific  beating  and  lost  many  men  in  killed 
and  imprisoned. 

Wavering  Loyalists  wavered  some  more.  The  Barcelona  bombings 
shook  civilian  morale.  At  a  cabinet  meeting  several  ministers  called 
for  an  immediate  armistice.  (Foreign  newspapers  thereupon  reported 
that  Barcelona  was  suing  for  peace.) 

In  the  midst  of  this  crisis,  Negrin  climbed  into  his  camouflaged 
Douglas  and  flew  non-stop  to  Paris.  He  outlined  the  situation  to 
Leon  Blum,  who  was  again  Premier  of  France.  Blum  cried.  Negrin 
had  little  time.  But  the  French  pondered.  While  waiting,  Negrin 
wandered  into  Brentano's  bookstore  on  the  Avenue  de  L'Op6ra 
where  Colonel  Charles  Sweeny,  an  American  army  officer  who 
fought  in  the  French  army  in  the  first  World  War,  then  in  the 
American  army  in  France  and  had  gone  down  to  Spain  to  ask  for 
a  command  in  the  Loyalist  forces— he  organized  the  Eagle  Air  Squad- 
ron of  Americans  in  England  in  1940— saw  Negrin  buying  the  ktest 
political  books  in  English. 

Blum  promised  Negrin  help.  Three  shiploads  of  Soviet  bombers 
and  pursuit  planes  had  been  held  up  in  Channel  ports  for  several 
weeks.  These  would  be  released.  Soviet  cannon  would  be  allowed 
to  pass.  Whispers  filled  Paris.  The  French  staff,  it  was  said,  had 
decided  to  send  three  divisions  into  Spain  to  drive  the  Italians  out 
of  the  Aragon.  The  French  military  were  always  sensitive  to  what 
happened  on  their  Catalan  frontier.  Rumor  had  it  that  the  French 
navy  wished  to  occupy  the  island  of  Minorca  in  the  Balearics  so  as 
to  offset  Italy's  control  of  near-by  Majorca  Island. 

While  the  generals  and  admirals  debated,  Foreign  Minister  Paul- 
Boncour  told  British  Ambassador  Sir  Eric  Phipps  about  their  de- 
bates. Sir  Eric  held  up  his  hands  in  holy  dismay.  Suppose  France 
got  involved  with  Italy  and  Germany  by  precipitous  action  on  be- 
half of  the  Loyalists,  Phipps  protested.  Conveniently,  news  of  im- 
pending German  mobilization  plans  were  circulated  in  Paris.  The 
franc  rocked.  French  military  moves  might  kill  it,  the  reactionaries 
argued.  Jouhaux,  leader  of  the  French  trade  unions—five  million 
members— informed  Blum  that  the  workingmen  would  produce  more 
arms  if  they  were  told  that  some  of  those  added  arms  would  go  to 
fight  France's  enemies  in  Spain.  The  Paris  Metal  Workers'  Union 
announced  that  its  members  would  do  an  hour's  overtime  each  day 
without  pay  if  the  extra  munitions  were  sold  to  Barcelona. 

But  the  Paris  daily  Journal,  financed  by  Mussolini— no  secret— de- 


478      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

clared  it  would  revolt  if  France  marched  to  the  aid  of  Republican 
Spain.  "France,"  I  wired,  "is  divided  and  pacifist,  and  young  men 
basking  in  the  glorious  spring  sunshine  with  their  girls  think  how 
terrible  it  would  be  to  have  to  go  to  the  trenches.  This  makes  gov- 
ernment policy."  This  made  France  fall  in  1940. 

The  French  Right  did  not  want  the  Loyalists  to  win;  that  might 
strengthen  the  Left  in  France.  The  Left  in  France  was  afraid  to 
antagonize  the  Right.  France,  thus  disunited,  "invited  His  Majesty's 
Government  to  state  its  views,"  and  H.M.G.  said  No.  Blum  there- 
fore moved  timidly  and  ineffectively.  We  gave  transit  to  some 
Soviet  material.  He  did  not  want  Franco  to  rule  Spain.  But  he  did 
nothing  to  save  Spain  decisively.  Nor  did  Edouard  Daladier  whom 
Blum  had  included  in  his  cabinet  as  Minister  of  War. 

So  Negrin  came  back  to  Barcelona  bringing  a  few  welcome  gifts 
for  the  army,  and  an  armful  of  books.  Everything  depended  on 
the  resistance  of  the  hungry  people  and  on  the  spirit  of  the  army 
and  the  government. 

In  one  of  my  talks  with  Dr.  Negrin  during  the  last  week  of 
March,  1938,  I  told  him  that  friends  of.  Spain  in  Paris  wanted  me 
to  inquire  what  he  thought  of  the  idea  of  buying  a  Paris  daily  for 
a  year.  He  said  they  must  make  no  arrangements  for  more  than  a 
month.  So  it  was  as  bad  as  that? 

I  went  down  to  the  Ebro  at  Tortosa  and  interviewed  soldiers.  I 
busied  myself  seeing  people  in  Barcelona.  I  saw  the  del  Vayos.  They 
invited  me  to  meals  often;  del  Vayo  was  on  a  strict  diet  and  ate  little 
more  than  bananas  and  so  there  was  food  for  me.  Vayo  felt  confi- 
dent. That  reflected  his  irrepressible  temperament,  but  he  also  had  his 
ear  close  to  the  people's  heart. 

In  those  critical  days,  the  Frente  Rojo,  Communist  morning  paper 
in  Barcelona,  asked  del  Vayo  for  a  statement  approving  the  death 
sentence  passed  at  the  Moscow  trial  on  Bukharin,  Rykov,  Yagoda, 
and  others.  He  asked  my  opinion  and  I  said,  "Don't  do  it."  He  was 
not  inclined  to  do  it  anyway,  and  didn't. 

The  Loyalists  needed  a  tonic.  War  Minister  Prieto  had  been  tell- 
ing his  staff  officers  that  the  war  could  not  be  won  and  would  soon 
be  lost!  On  the  battlefield  at  Teruel  he  had  said  to  his  assistants 
that  they  would  soon  lose  Teruel  again.  That  proved  true.  But 
when  officers  are  sending  men  to  their  death  in  obedience  to  the 
War  Minister's  orders  the  War  Minister  himself  cannot  tell  them 
that  these  efforts  are  vain.  I  also  heard  a  report  that  news  of  Prieto's 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  479 

dark  views  on  the  future  of  the  struggle  had  been  passed  on  to  the 
pro-Loyalist  French  Ambassador  Eric  Labonne,  and  this  when 
France's  attitude  was  so  vital.  President  Azana,  naturally,  was  even 
more  defeatist  than  Prieto. 

The  next  time  I  saw  Negrin  I  therefore  said  to  him  I  thought  the 
country  needed  a  change  of  government.  If  the  head  men  were  de- 
featist the  army's  morale  would  deteriorate.  I  had  seen  a  lot  of  mis- 
management at  the  front.  The  town  of  Fraga,  pivotal  center,  had 
been  left  in  the  hands  of  four  hundred  raw  recruits  and  a  major  who 
bolted  at  the  first  shot.  A  shift  of  ministers  would  have  a  tonic  ef- 
fect. "If  Azana  objects,"  I  ventured,  "you  can  throw  a  guard  around 
his  house  and  cut  off  his  telephone.  The  situation  requires  something 
drastic.  You  cannot  stop  at  formalities  when  so  much  is  at  stake. 
This  is  no  time  to  be  tired." 

"I  am  not  tired,"  he  snapped  back.  Then  he  asked,  "Have  you 
been  speaking  to  Zuga?" 

Zugazagoitia  had  preceded  me  in  Negrin's  office.  "No,  why?" 

"Zuga  is  talking  to  Prieto,"  Negrin  replied.  "Stay  here  a  few  days 
longer."  That  was  clear  enough.  The  next  week,  Prieto  left  the 
government  and  Negrin  took  over  the  War  Ministry.  Negrin  is 
very  loyal  to  his  friends  and  the  dismissal  of  Prieto  caused  him  pain. 
The  unpleasant  task  of  breaking  the  news  to  Prieto  was  performed 
by  Zugazagoitia  and  Marcelino  Pascua,  the  Loyalist  Ambassador  in 
Paris. 

(Zuga,  a  young  man  of  about  fortjr,  was  seized  by  the  Gestapo 
in  the  occupied  French  zone  in  1940  and  handed  over  to  Franco.  He 
was  executed  without  trial  in  Madrid.) 

I  was  in  Paris  in  the  first  week  of  April  when  Prieto  left  the  cab- 
inet and  del  Vayo  became  Foreign  Minister  in  place  of  Giral.  I 
advised  my  friends  to  buy  the  Paris  daily  for  a  year  in  the  interests 
of  the  Loyalist  cause.  The  paper  was  pro-Loyalist  and  anti-appease- 
ment. It  needed  money  to  keep  alive  and  to  broaden  its  influence. 

On  April  6,  1938,  I  addressed  a  meeting  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons at  the  invitation  of  the  Duchess  of  AtholL  Major  Hills,  an 
old  Conservative  M.P.,  was  in  the  chair.  He  and  I  sat  behind  a  long 
high  wooden  counter,  and  in  front  of  us  on  wooden  school  chairs— 
the  kind  with  one  large  arm— sat  twenty-five  MLP.'s,  all  supporters 
of  the  Chamberlain  government,  among  them  Harold  Nicolson, 


480      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

who  was  very  pro-Loyalist,  Wing  Commander  James,  who  was  very 
pro-Franco,  and  Marcus  Samuel,  who  was  very  anti-Soviet. 

I  made  an  introductory  statement  of  about  half  an  hour.  I  said  I 
had  just  been  to  Spain  and  felt  certain  that  the  Loyalists  would  con- 
tinue to  fight  even  though  Franco  thought  he  had  won.  The  gov- 
ernment still  had  reserves  of  men  and  enthusiasm  as  well  as  ma- 
terial whereas  Franco  could  not  grasp  victory  because  of  limited 
man-power  which  reflected  lack  of  sympathy  for  his  cause  in  the 
large  part  of  Spain  he  had  conquered. 

Great  inequality  existed  in  the  air,  however,  and  that  was  the 
Loyalists'  chief  difficulty.  They  had  ninety  planes,  most  of  them 
fighters,  and  most  of  them  old,  and  all  of  them  had  done  more  fly- 
ing than  was  good  for  them.  Franco's  air  force,  if  one  could  call 
it  Franco's— it  really  belonged  to  Mussolini  and  Hitler  and  was  sim- 
ply using  Spanish  territory  to  operate  from— numbered  at  least  five 
hundred  machines  and  perhaps  as  many  as  eight  hundred.  In  addi- 
tion, some  of  the  Italian  bombers  flew  from  Sardinia,  bombed  Loy- 
alist centers,  and  returned  to  their  airfields  without  ever  touching 
Franco's  soil. 

The  Spanish  government,  I  added,  suffered  likewise  from  a  short- 
age of  artillery,  in  fact  from  a  shortage  of  everything  but  money, 
determination,  and  public  support.  I  dilated  on  both  these  subjects: 
the  military  situation  which  favored  Franco,  the  domestic  political 
situation  which  demonstrated  Franco's  weakness.  Hitler  and  Musso- 
lini had  set  him  up  and  they  held  him  up.  Spain  did  not  need  a 
Franco  regime.  Spain's  great  need  was  the  solution  of  the  land  prob- 
lem and  Franco  could  not  solve  that. 

I  saw  the  question  "Why?"  on  several  faces  in  front  of  me. 

"Why?"  I  said.  "Because,  Franco  would  have  to  deprive  his  own 
supporters  of  their  wealth  and  social  position,  He  would  thereby 
undermine  his  sole  political  backing.  No  government  deliberately 
destroys  its  own  social  base.  That  is  why  Franco  will  keep  Spain 
eternally  dissatisfied." 

I  then  turned  to  the  international  phase  of  the  Spanish  problem. 
"Hitler  and  Mussolini  are  not  in  Spain  to  fight  Bolshevism.  They 
say  that  to  delude  you.  They  are  in  Spain  to  fight  you  and  France." 
The  Paris  Temps  of  April  5,  1938,  had  printed  an  excerpt  from  the 
Italian  Gazetta  del  Popolo  which  affirmed  that  for  Italy  Anglo- 
French  sovereignty  in  Spain  was  no  less  menacing  than  Commu- 
nism. 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  481 

At  this  point,  I  was  asked  if  it  was  not  true  that  Italy  was  in  Spain 
to  get  commercial  advantages.  I  replied  that  for  this  purpose  travel- 
ing salesmen  would  be  better  than  flying  bombs.  If  Mussolini  de- 
voted to  penetration  into  Spanish  business  only  a  part  of  the  millions 
he  was  spending  on  the  smashing  of  Spanish  economy  he  could 
have  most  of  it.  But  he  was  pursuing  notary-imperialist  aims;  he 
coveted  the  Western  Mediterranean.  The  Franco  people  were  talk- 
ing of  restoring  Gibraltar  to  Spain.  For  Mussolini,  Spain  was  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  Ethiopian  campaign  and  both  were  facets  of  an 
ambitious  Roman  conception. 

A  member  suggested  that  England  could  oust  Italy  from  Spain  by 
peaceful  means.  "If  Mussolini  were  ready  to  quit  Spain  at  England's 
behest,"  I  replied,  "why  should  he  have  gone  there  in  the  first  pkce? 
He  knew  in  advance  you  wouldn't  like  it.  I  think  one  of  the  dan- 
gers of  England's  world  position  is  her  confidence  in  it."  I  spied 
several  wry  faces. 

I  had  said  that  Franco  started  the  rebellion  and  was  responsible 
for  it.  "But,"  one  M.P.  challenged,  "is  it  not  true  that  the  Loyalists 
provoked  the  Nationalists  by  the  assassination  of  Calvo  Sotelo,  the 
Monarchist  leader?" 

This  was  a  well-oiled  legend.  Sotelo  was  shot  in  Madrid  on  July 
14.  The  revolt  started  in  Morocco  on  the  lyth.  But  Franco,  the  Ger- 
mans, and  the  Italics  had  had  more  preparation  than  seventy-two 
hours.  Italian  planes  received  orders  on  July  15,  to  fly  to  Morocco 
to  aid  Franco.  Besides,  we  had  the  testimony  of  Captain  C.  W.  H. 
Bebb,  in  a  signed  article  in  the  London  N&ws  Chronicle  of  Novem- 
ber 7,  1936.  I  had  the  clipping  in  my  pocket. 

Bebb  was  a  pilot  of  the  OUey  Air  Service  in -England.  "On  the 
afternoon  of  July  9,"  he  wrote,  "a  Spaniard  walked  into  our  office 
at  Croydon  airdrome  and  asked  to  see  Captain  OUey.  Ten  minutes 
later  I  was  called  into  the  office  and  asked  if  I  would  undertake  a 
secret  flight  to  the  Canary  Islands.  .  .  .  We  started  at  dawn  on 
July  n.  ...  On  the  i4th,  we  left  Casablanca  for  Las  Palmas,  via 
Cap  Juby,  and  arrived  at  Las  Palmas  at  2  P.M.  on  the  i4th.  While 
I  was  waiting  at  Las  Palmas,  Jos6  Calvo  Sotelo,  leader  of  the  Right, 
was  murdered  in  Madrid.  I  gathered  the  impression  later  on  that  the 
murder  of  this  man  caused  General  Franco  and  his  staff  to  start 
the  revolution  several  days  before  they  had  originally  intended." 
Then  Captain  Bebb  describes  how  he  flew  General  Franco  from 
Las  Palmas  to  Casablanca  and  Tetuan.  He  had  been  hired  for  that 


482      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

purpose  on  the  pth.  The  murder  of  Calvo  Sotelo  was  an  incident, 
not  a  cause.  It  may  have  advanced  the  date  of  Franco's  rising.  Noth- 
ing else. 

"Tell  us  about  religion  in  Loyalist  Spain,"  some  one  called  out. 

"I  have  never  understood,"  I  began,  "how  an  institution  like  the 
Vatican  which  is  anti-revolutionary  and  stands,  j^^umably,  for  law 
and  order,  can  support  a  clique  of  rebellious  ^erieraTsf  *who  have 
broken  their  oath  to  the  government  in  a  peaceful  country.  .  .  . 
The  Vatican  is  situated  in  Italy,  The  Pope  is  always  an  Italian.  Most 
of  the  cardinals  are  Italians.  The  Roman  church  supported  Italian 
expansion  in  Abyssinia  and  behaves  the  same  way  now  in  Spain. 
Mistakenly  the  Vatican  regards  the  world  struggle  as  one  between 
Fascism  and  Communism.  Its  choice  is  obvious.  The  Catholic  leaders 
of  the  pro-Franco  movement  in  the  United  States  are  at  the  same 
time  appeasers  and  foes  of  liberalism. 

"In  Spain,  the  Catholic  church  is  definitely  aligned  with  Franco. 
It  was  always  aligned  with  the  Francos.  It^abgays.  supported^tJbie. 
reactionary  monarchy  against  Aeijs<3jj^  It  was  an  established. 
churchwluchlived  on  subsides  from  the  state.  It  was  an  owner  of 

___  -    .....  n  .......  •*..  ----  ing|._      i      -  MirtiiM-r  *  —  in«»irf~fi  I_L.»"-T~;  r^r.yrra'"  ft.-!****'"1"**  "    «v^"^*' 

factories,  power  stations,  and  much  land,  one^ofjhejDi^ 

lords  of  Spain.  Hence  it  identified  itself  with  the  landlords'  caus$. 


Hence  the  people  identified  it  with  their  enemies.      s    \        •* 

"The  Catholic  hierarchy  of  Spain  has  done  much  harm  to  Catholi- 
cism in  Spain.  The  Loyalists  are  not  anti-religious.  In  Soviet  Russk 
the  regime  is  frankly  atheistic.  One  will  look  in  vain,  however,  for 
anti-God  sentiments  in  the  declarations  of  the  Loyalist  government 
or  of  its  leaders.  But  the  church  has  taken  the  side  of  the  generals. 
die  Nazi  pagans,  the  infidel  Moors  and^Mussolini._This  will  react 
to  the  difed^tajj^  will  distrust  the 

church.  A  Franco  victory  will  hurt  the  church  in  Spain.  It  will 
die  in  the  hearts  of^  common  men^Only  a  liberal  triumph  could 
enable  Catholicism  in  Spain  to  attempt  to  redeem  itself. 

<rWhen  the  civil  war  broke  out,  the  people  did  not  burn  banks 
or  commercial  houses.  They  burned  churches.  I  regret  this.  But 
this  has  happened  before  in  Spain  and  in  Mexico  and  elsewhere. 
Where  popular  wrath  overflowed  J^fflgcked  the  church  which  was 
closer  to  the  higher-ups  ^than  to  the  underdog. 

'The  church  in  Spain  behaved  like  a  political  party,"  I  said,  "and 
it  has  to  pay  the  penalties.  It  is  in  the  front  line  of  battle  fighting 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  483 

Tinder  the  Fascist  banner.  It  cannot  complain  if  it  is  struck  by  bul- 
lets." 

"Why  does  Moscow  help  the  Loyalists?"  Marcus  Samuel  asked. 

I  explained  that  a  general  ideological  affinity  of  course  existed, 
although  the  Spanish  Republic  was  in  no  sense  Communistic.  Mos- 
cow's chief  concern,  however,  was  to  weaken  the  aggressor  states  so 
that  they  might  not  catapult  Europe  into  a  major  war.  I  dealt  with 
this  at  length  and  closed  by  suggesting  that  the  best  way  to  insure 
world  peace  would  be  to  strengthen  the  resistance  of  the  Chinese 
and  Spanish  governments. 

When  Chairman  Major  Hills  adjourned  the  meeting  a  group  of 
M.P.'s  gathered  around.  A  rapid  exchange  ensued.  Hitler  had  seized 
Austria  the  previous  month;  the  M.P.'s  were  somewhat  worried. 

When  the  members  started  to  disperse,  a  tall,  handsome  M.P. 
whose  demeanor  during  the  meeting  made  me  think  he  was  pro- 
Loyalist,  introduced  himself  as  Colonel  Ropner,  Conservative,  and 
invited  me  to  have  dinner  with  him  in  the  House  the  next  evening. 
He  said  he  would  have  four  MJP.'s  with  him.  The  following  morn- 
ing he  phoned  and  told  me  there  would  be  twenty  MJP.'s,  including 
Sir  Thomas  Inskip,  Minister  for  the  Co-ordination  of  Defense,  and 
several  junior  ministers.  "Did  I  mind?"  No.  And  would  I  mind  if 
a  friend  of  his  asked  me  to  his  office?  I  soon  received  a  telephone 
call  from  Colonel  Clark,  chief  of  the  intelligence  service  of  the  War 
Office. 

I  went  over  to  see  Clark  in  Whitehall.  For  almost  an  hour  he  and 
a  gentleman  who  had  once  been  in  Spain  as  military  attache  plied 
me  with  questions.  They  were  most  eager  to  learn  about  the  quali- 
ties of  the  officers  arid  non-commissioned  officers  of  the  Loyalist 
army. 

I  submitted  willingly  to  their  queries.  When  they  seemed  to  have 
had  enough  I  said,  "Now  I  would  like  to  ask  you  one."  Colonel 
Clark  nodded.  "Why,"  I  inquired,  "do  you  allow  enemies  of  the 
British  empire  to  advance  towards  its  defenses?" 

"We  in  the  War  Office,  you  know,"  Colonel  Clark  asserted,  "do 
not  make  policy.  But  I  would  like  to  ask  you  this.  In  your  opinion, 
would  it  be  better  if  Franco  won  quickly  or  if  Spain  remained  an 
open  wound  through  which  the  poisons  of  Europe  could  escape?" 

The  question  was  calculated  to  reveal  a  lot  to  me.  The  alternatives 
he  outlined  obviously  represented  the  views  of  two  schools  of 
thought  in  British  military  circles,  and  from  the  tone  of  his  voice  I 


484      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

gathered  that  he  belonged  to  the  school  which  hoped  that  Italy  and 
Germany  might  be  weakened  by  the  expenditure  of  effort  and  ma- 
terial in  Spain. 

That  evening  I  met  Colonel  Ropner  by  appointment  shortly  be- 
fore eight.  He  led  me  out  to  the  House  terrace  overlooking  the 
Thames  river.  He  first  begged  my  forgiveness,  but  there  would  be 
thirty-one  MJP.'s  and  some  were  bringing  their  wives.  "Did  I  mind?" 
On  the  contrary  I  felt  complimented.  Colonel  Ropner  then  told  me 
that  he  had  visited  Russia  recently.  He  thought  well  of  the  Red 
Army,  what  he  saw  of  it,  yet  he  wondered  whether  bad  transport 
facilities  would  not  handicap  it  in  a  war.  He  had  also  been  to  Ger- 
many recently  and  received  friendly  treatment  there.  He  said,  "I'm 
pro-Fascist,  but  I'm  all  with  you  on  Spain."  Colonel  Ropner's  im- 
perialism was  stouter  than  his  class  prejudices. 

Inside,  we  took  sherries  and  then  occupied  places  at  the  long 
table.  Sir  Thomas  Inskip  was  at  Colonel  Ropner's  right  and  my 
left.  On  my  right  sat  Sir  Arnold  Wilson,  the  leader  of  the  Franco 
forces  in  Britain.  Among  the  others  present  were:  the  Duchess  of 
Atholl,  Vyvyan  Adams,  R.  H.  Cross,  Vice  Chamberlain  of  the  Royal 
Household,  the  Marquess  of  Harrington,  Parliamentary  Under-secre- 
tary  for  the  Dominions,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Muirhead,  Under-sec- 
retary  of  State  for  Air,  G.  H.  Shakespeare,  Parliamentary  and  Finan- 
cial secretary  of  the  Admiralty,  Rear-Admiral  Sir  Murray  F.  Sueter, 
Captain  Euan  Wallace,  Parliamentary  secretary  of  the  Board  of 
Trade,  Captain  G.  Waterhouse,  Comptroller  of  the  Royal  House- 
hold, and  H.  G.  Strauss. 

During  the  first  part  of  the  dinner,  an  M.P.  across  the  narrow 
table  kept  Inskip  busily  engaged  in  conversation,  and  so  Sir  Arnold 
and  I  concentrated  on  one  another.  He  talked  about  everything 
but  Spain.  He  assumed,  without  a  word,  that  we  had  better  agree 
to  disagree.  He  said  he  had  written  books  on  Persia  and  had  quoted 
my  Oil  Imperialism  in  one.  He  knew  my  Soviets  in  World  Affairs 
too.  Wilson  had  spent  much  time  in  the  East  as  British  Imperial  offi- 
cial and  also  as  an  official  of  the  Anglo-Persian  Oil  Company.  Though 
fifty-three,  and  a  Member  of  Parliament  since  1933,  he  was  firmly 
built,  dark,  and  energetic-looking.  He  had  visited  Hitler  and  been 
received  several  times  by  Benito  Mussolini.  His  book,  Walks  and 
Talks  Abroad)  published  in  1936,  urged  appeasement  of  the  Fascist 
powers. 

(In  September,  1939,  the  second  World  War  broke  out.  It  de- 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  485 

stroyed  every  pro-appeasement  argument,  for  appeasement  was  based 
on  the  assumption  that  war  would  be  postponed  for  a  long  time.  If 
appeasement  merely  postponed  war  for  a  short  time,  then  England 
should  have  armed  faster  and  sought  more  allies.  The  British  and 
French  did  not  do  this  because  they  really  believed  that  appease- 
ment meant  "peace  for  our  time."  The  outbreak  of  war  demon- 
strated the  complete  bankruptcy  of  appeasement.  Being  an  honest 
man,  Sir  Arnold  recognized  this,  and  early  in  the  war,  he,  veteran 
of  the  1914-1918  conflict,  and  far  beyond  the  enlistment  or  con- 
scription age,  volunteered  in  the  Royal  Air  Force  and  deliberately 
took  the  most  dangerous  post  it  could  offer— rear  gunner  on  a 
bombing  plane.  He  did  this,  he  told  friends,  to  atone  for  his  sins 
of  appeasement.  Hitler  and  Mussolini  had  disappointed  him.  In  the 
most  crucial  period  of  his  country's  history,  Wilson,  unlike  Church- 
ill, had  been  wrong.  His  country  would  pay  for  his  mistake.  He 
himself  wanted  to  pay  too.  He  did.  On  June  4,  1940,  Lieutenant 
Colonel  Sir  Arnold  Wilson,  brave  man  because  he  faced  not  only 
the  enemy  but  also  his  own  mistake,  was  posted  as  missing.  He  has 
not  been  heard  of  since.) 

As  the  roast  beef  and  red  wine  were  being  served,  Inskip  turned 
to  me  and  asked  about  my  experiences  in  air  raids  in  Spain.  The  effi- 
cacy of  various  types  of  shelters  interested  him  a  good  deal,  but 
most  of  his  questions  were  directed  to  the  matter  of  civilian  morale. 
I  described  some  scenes  in  Madrid,  Barcelona,  and  Valencia  where 
temperamental,  undernourished  Spaniards  displayed  a  combination 
of  British-like  stolidity,  Moorish  fatalism,  and  American  race-track 
passion. 

I  asked  Inskip  whether  government  circles  were  very  much  inter- 
ested in  Spain.  He  replied  that  there  was  great  interest  and  great 
difference  of  opinion.  "Many  people  believe,"  he  affirmed,  "that  the 
government  are  pro-Fascist  on  Spain.  The  truth  is  that  five  or  six 
members  of  the  cabinet  are  pro-Franco,  five  or  six  neutral,  and 
twelve  pro-Republican."  He  followed  this  with  a  long  exposition, 
between  bites  and  swallows,  of  British  policy  towards  foreign  civil 
wars.  The  policy  had  always  been,  he  asserted,  to  help  the  govern- 
ment against  the  insurrectionists.  He  gave  instances.  "If  we  were 
to  send  arms  to  anybody,"  he  made  it  plain,  "it  would  be  to  the 
Spanish  government."  But  the  state  of  British  armaments,  he  added, 
and  the  antagonisms  in  Europe  were  such  that  "we  prefer  to  sell 
arms  to  neither  side."  I  replied  that  none  expected  England  to  sell 


486      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

arms  to  the  Loyalists,  but  they  could  cease  deterring  the  French 
from  doing  so  and  cease  using  their  influence  in  Washington  to  hin- 
der the  lifting  of  the  arms  embargo. 

Inskip  said  the  French  had  been  sending  large  quantities  of  arms 
to  Spain.  Apologizing  for  differing  with  him,  I  said  I  thought  this 
was  not  so.  He  answered  that  he  had  recently  seen  the  figures.  I 
told  him  that  I  knew  arms  were  going  through  France,  but  France 
was  not  selling  the  arms.  The  arms  were  from  Russia,  Czechoslo- 
vakia, and  Poland.  "Maybe  you're  right,"  he  conceded.  "Maybe  the 
figures  I  saw  referred  to  supplies  passing  through  France."  It  inter- 
ested me  that  he  should  have  had  a  detailed  report  on  arms  traffic 
in  France. 

Colonel  Ropner  introduced  me  as  an  American  and  "a  man  of 
the  Left  just  as  we  are  people  of  the  Right."  Jolly  cries  of  "No, 
no"  and  laughter  protested  they  were  not  of  the  "Right." 

I  spoke  for  half  an  hour,  watching  the  faces  around  me.  At  one 
point  I  stated  that  France  had  done  very  little  for  the  Loyalists.  In 
recent  weeks,  however,  the  Spanish  government,  I  said,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  buying  a  few  guns  in  France.  An  M.P.  opposite  me,  who 
had  been  doing  a  great  deal  of  writhing  while  I  spoke,  called  out, 
"Non-intervention."  "It's  just  a  little  drop  of  the  non-intervention 
which  the  Germans  and  Italians  have  been  practicing."  (If  I  had 
had  more  courage  I  would  have  added  "with  your  help.")  "The  life 
of  France  would  be  threatened  by  a  Franco  victory,  and  the  law  of 
international  affairs  now  is  that  a  nation  breaks  treaties  to  safeguard 
its  national  interests."  For  this  I  was  rewarded  with  several  "Hear, 
hear"  exclamations*  one  of  them  from  Inskip  who  rocked  on  his 
chair.  When  I  sat  down,  the  audience  applauded  lustily,  some  pound- 
ing their  palms  on  the  table.  They  were  being  polite  Britishers.  Rop- 
ner asked  for  questions. 

The  gentleman  who  had  intimated  that  only  the  Nazis  and  Fas- 
cists ought  to  "non-intervene"  in  Spain,  posed  the  first  one  with  a 
little  speech.  He  spoke  as  follows,  "You  are  an  American  journalist. 
Do  you  know  your  colleague  Mr.  Knoblauch?  [I  nodded.]  Do  you 
know  his  recent  book  on  Spain?  [I  nodded  again.]  In  it  he  says  that 
sixty  thousand  citizens  of  Madrid  were  murdered  by  the  Loyalists 
during  the  first  weeks  of  the  civil  war.  Do  you  accept  that  figure?" 

I  replied  that  I  would  rather  deal  with  the  whole  problem  of  atroci- 
ties than  answer  yes  or  no. 

"You  invite  us  to  sympathize  with  the  Loyalists,"  the  M.P.  inter- 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  487 

jected  with  irritation.  "I  want  to  know  what  sort  of  people  the  Loy- 
alists are.  I  therefore  ask  you  about  the  sixty  thousand  murders  and 
you  refuse  a  reply." 

Inskip  exclaimed,  "Oh,  oh,"  and  several  guests  cried,  "Let  the 
gentleman  answer  as  he  sees  fit." 

I  arose  and  said,  "There  have  been  many  atrocities  on  both  sides." 
A  chorus  of  "Hear,  hear"  interrupted  me.  "I  cannot  give  you  a  reply 
about  the  alleged  sixty  thousand.  No  layman  knows  what  sixty  thou- 
sand of  anything  is.  If  I  told  you  that  sixty  thousand  people  in  Lon- 
don were  doing  this  or  that,  or  sixty  thousand  automobiles  were 
circulating  on  Piccadilly  you  would  not  know  whether  I  was  telling 
the  truth,  unless  a  government  statistician  or  official  toll-taker  as- 
sembled the  data.  Especially  during  the  chaos  that  followed  the 
advent  of  the  civil  war,  nobody  was  in  a  position  to  have  any  reliable 
figures  in  Madrid.  Only  the  Loyalist  authorities  could  have  had 
statistics  on  killings  and  they  would  not  publish  them.  They  did  not 
even  have  them.  The  sixty  thousand,  therefore,  is  merely  the  private 
guess  of  partisans  and  I  am  not  disposed  to  accept  its  historical  accu- 
racy." More  "hear,  hears"  told  me  that  I  had  made  my  point.  Inskip 
contributed  a  loud  grumble  of  assent. 

"Civil  war  breaks  out  in  a  country  when  the  government  is  weak. 
The  civil  war  further  weakens  the  government.  Moreover,  civil  war 
is,  by  definition,  a  clash  between  two  bitterly  opposed  sections  of 
die  population.  The  fighting  of  the  civil  war  exacerbates  that  bit- 
terness. In  America,  too,  we  had  plenty  of  cruelty  during  the  civil 
war.  The  Spanish  conflict  is  no  friendly  picnic.  Hosts  of  marked 
Loyalists  were  caught  by  the  civil  war  in  Franco  territory,  and 
vice  versa. 

"You  have  heard  of  the  Fifth  Column.  As  General  Mok,  Franco's 
able  strategist,  advanced  on  Madrid  in  October,  1936,  he  could  not 
suppress  his  temperament,  and  with  true  Spanish  expansiveness,  an- 
nounced that  his  forces  were  converging  upon  the  city  in  four 
marching  columns.  But  a  Tifth  Column'  inside  Madrid,  he  added, 
would  greet  them  as  they  approached  and  take  the  city  from  within. 
The  Loyalists  knew  this  without  Mok.  During  the  early  months  of 
the  civil  war,  after  the  army  and  the  police  had  deserted  the  govern- 
ment, individual  Loyalists  took  the  kw  into  their  own  hands  and 
dealt  roughly  with  these  fifth  columnists. 

"When  I  first  arrived  in  Madrid  in  September,  1936,  an  atmosphere 
of  uncertainty  and  fear  pervaded  the  city.  Nightly,  murders  took 


488      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

pkce.  The  city  was  blacked-out  and  violent  elements  made  hay  in 
the  dark.  But  gradually,  the  government  took  hold  of  the  situation. 
All  the  atrocities  committed  in  Loyalist  territory  antedate  May, 
1937.  Since  that  date  there  have  been  no  atrocities  in  Republican 
Spain."  For  this  I  was  again  rewarded— "Hear,  hear"— from  a  sur- 
prisingly large  number  of  those  present. 

I  had  not  yet  exhausted  the  subject  of  atrocities.  "The  atrocities 
in  Loyalist  Spain,"  I  contended,  "were  the  concomitant  of  transi- 
tory weakness.  But  Franco's  atrocities  are  not  an  accident.  They 
are  a  policy.  Franco  rules  against  the  wish  of  the  majority."  Several 
heads  moved  in  dissent.  I  addressed  them,  "It  would  be  instructive 
if  you  superimposed  a  map  of  divided  Spain  today  on  the  electoral 
map  of  February  16,  1936.  You  would  find  that  a  large  part  of  the 
zone  now  held  by  Franco  voted  for  the  Popular  Front,  that  is,  for 
the  government  against  which  the  generals  rebelled.  I  urge  you 
to  consult  that  map.  Why  is  it  that  Franco  has  not  won  the  war 
after  almost  two  years  of  effort?  He  had  the  army  from  the  very 
beginning.  Hitler  and  Mussolini  have  given  him  much  more  help 
than  the  Loyalists  have  received  from  Russia.  The  answer  is  that 
Franco  has  too  few  soldiers,  and  he  has  too  few  soldiers  because 
the  population  is  not  with  him.  That  is  why  I  believe  there  is  no 
peace  in  Franco.  If  he  wins  his  regime  will  rest  oh  bayonets  and 
force  just  as  it  does  today.  He  keeps  his  people  subjugated  by  con- 
stant terror.  But  you  would  be  surprised  at  die  freedom  the  Loyal- 
ist government  grants  its  citizens.  Some  would  say,  indeed,  that  there 
is  too  much  democracy, 

"One  final  word  -on  atrocities,"  I  begged.  "Atrocities  may  be  dis- 
puted pro  and  con.  But  there  can  be  no  argument  about  the  con- 
tinued bombings  of  civilians  in  Barcelona  or  of  the  repeated  shell- 
ings  of  civilians  in  Madrid.  Those  are  among  history's  worst  atroci- 
ties. The  Loyalists  cannot  defend  themselves  because  they  lack  the 
weapons." 

I  sat  down. 

The  M-P/s  began  to  compete  with  one  another  for  the  chance  to 
put  questions.  "Isn't  it  true,"  I  was  asked,  "that  former  Priine  Min- 
ister Lerroux  of  Spain  has  denounced  the  1936  elections  as  corrupt?" 

I  replied,  "Mr.  Lerroux  is  certainly  an  authority  on  election  cor- 
ruption because  he  has  staged  so  many  corrupt  elections  himself. 
But  on  February  16,  1936,  Portela  VaUadares  was  Prime  Minister, 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  489 

and  he  opposed  the  Popular  Front,  so  that  if  there  was  any  fraud  it 
was  at  the  expense  of  the  parties  now  in  the  Loyalist  coalition." 

I  made  two  faux  pas  during  this  period  of  questions.  At  Amer- 
ican lectures  I  stand  up  when  a  questioner  stands  up.  I  did  the  same 
at  the  dinner  in  the  House  of  Commons.  But  in  the  British  Par- 
liament no  two  persons  may  be  standing  at  the  same  time,  and  when 
one  rises  the  other  sits  down.  Once  when  an  M.P.  stood  up  I  stood 
up,  and  he  immediately  sat  down.  Colonel  Ropner  told  me  to  sit 
down  till  the  questioner  resumed  his  seat.  My  second  mistake  was 
to  refer  to  those  present  as  "gentlemen."  They  are  all  "honorable 
gentlemen"  and  some  were  "right  honorable  gentliHien."  I  realized 
it  when  I  returned  to  my  hotel  room.  And  I  also  thought  of  all  the 
clever  remarks  I  should  have  made. 

An  M.P.  said,  "You  have  alluded  to  intervention  on  both  sides. 
Why  have  the  Bolsheviks  helped  the  Republicans?" 

I  tried  to  be  brief.  "The  Russians  started  helping  the  Loyalists 
late  in  October,  1936,  when  the  Non-intervention  Agreement  had 
been  reduced  to  a  complete,  farce  by  large-scale  Italian  and  German 
aid  for  Franco.  Nobody  can  adduce  proof  of  Soviet  intervention  in 
Spain  before  October.  Nor  is  it  logical  to  suggest  that  a  revolt  ini- 
tiated by  Franco  was  Moscow-made.  Russia's  role  in  Spain  is  part 
of  a  larger  conception  of  the  world  situation.  There  is,  of  course,  a 
general  ideological  affinity.  But  the  Bolsheviks  are  also  sending  arms 
to  Chiang  Kai-shek  who  has  executed  more  Communists  than  any 
other  non-Communist  and  who  is  far  from  Left.  The  Bolsheviks  do 
not  want  a  Soviet  Spain.  Their  participation  in  the  Spanish  conflict 
is  calculated  to  prevent  yet  another  Fascist  victory  and  another  en- 
couragement to  aggressors  which  might  result  in  a  major  war.  If 
France  is  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  hostile  powers— Germany, 
Italy,  and  Spain— it  would  be  easier  for  Germany  to  attack  Russia. 
A  Fascist  Spain  would  partially  immobilize  the  British  fleet.  .  .  . 
The  only  method  of  safeguarding  peace  is  to  bolster  the  resistance 
of  the  victims  of  aggression.  That  will  weaken  the  striking  power 
of  the  aggressors.  It  will  teach  them  that  further  predatory  adven- 
tures will  be  costly.  China's  stand  hampers  Japan's  ability  to  strike 
elsewhere,  and  if  the  Loyalists  could  hold  out  for  another  year  we 
would  have  less  to  fear  from  Germany  and  Italy/' 

I  am  quoting  from  a  long  entry  in  my  diary  about  this  dinner, 
"This  is  no  time  to  talk  peace  or  yearn  for  peace,**  it  goes  on.  "The 
only  way  to  guarantee  peace  is  to  stop  the  countries  that  have  made 


490      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

wars  and  are  likely  to  make  more  wars."  I  got  a  great  deal  of  assent 
on  that.  "The  Loyalists  are  taking  arms  where  they  can  get  them. 
If  you  and  the  French  sold  arms  to  them  the  political  situation  in 
Spain  would  be  affected  thereby." 

"The  danger  of  Communism  exists  everywhere,"  an  M.P.  an- 
nounced. "You  surely  cannot  expect  us  to  be  sympathetic  to  an  at- 
tempt to  implant  it  in  another  country." 

"The  Spanish  Communists,"  I  replied,  "are  more  conservative  than 
some  French  socialists  and  than  many  British  Laborites.  They  are 
a  petty  bourgeois  party  in  some  respects.  They  are  defending  pri- 
vate property  against  those  who  wish  to  confiscate  or  collectivize  it. 
The  Spanish  Communist  leader  Hernandez  has  tried  to  construct  a 
theory  against  agrarian  collectivization.  But  that  is  really  not  the 
point.  The  British  government  and  the  British  capitalists  must  de- 
cide whether  Communism  threatens  them  more  than  Fascism.  It  is 
Hitler's  clever  game  to  make  you  believe  it  does.  The  Soviet  Union 
and  Bolshevism  have  not  been  and  are  not  a  threat  to  the  British 
Empire  or  to  British  capitalism.  The  contrary  is  the  case.  Czarist 
Russia  was  more  of  a  menace  to  India  than  is  Red  Russia.  I  do  not 
see  where  or  how  the  regime  in  Russia  has  harmed  or  weakened  the 
British  social  system.  The  Soviet  government  could  be  your  ally. 
Even  if  Spain  went  Soviet— which  is  almost  precluded—it  would  be 
better  for  England  than  a  Franco-Fascist  Spain  under  Hitler's  and 
Mussolini's  thumbs."  •  *' 

Next  question  explained  much  British  indifference  toward  the 
Spanish  struggle  which  translated  itself  into  a  pro-Franco  policy. 
"You  gave  it  as  your  considered  opinion  that  Italy  and  Germany 
will  not  retire  from  Spain  after  the  war.  But  is  it  not  likely  that  the 
nations  which  have  intervened  in  the  struggle  will  arouse  the  re- 
sentment of  the  Spaniards  who  will  ultimately  expel  them,  whereas 
we,  whose  hands  are  clean  and  have  remained  aloof,  will  reap  the 
benefit  of  our  neutrality?  Despite  attempts  to  subjugate  it,  Spain 
has  remained  independent  for  centuries.  The  Spaniards  resist  yokes. 
Moreover,  Franco  would  ~need  money  for  reconstruction  and  he 
would  have  to  come  to  London  for  it." 

I  replied  that  the  mass  of  Spaniards  were  almost  as  anti-French 
and  anti-British  as  they  were  anti-Fascist;  they  held  England  and 
France  responsible  for  the  slaughter  of  poorly  armed  Republicans. 
Besides,  Mussolini  and  Hitler  were  in  Spain  to  get  something.  Why 
should  they  leave  because  the  British  and  French  wished  it?  As  to 


WHAT  WOULD  HAPPEN  IF  .  .  .  ?  491 

money,  "I  have  not  yet  seen  Mussolini  in  the  City.  You  thought 
he  would  come  after  the  Abyssinian  war.  Faith  in  its  financial  power 
is  one  of  the  causes  of  England's  bad  diplomacy."  Eyebrows  lifted. 

After  several  further  questions,  Chairman  Colonel  Ropner  ad- 
journed the  proceedings  by  saying,  "Before  the  dinner,  someone  told 
me  that  Mr.  Fischer  was  both  intelligent  and  brave.  I  arn  sure  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  he  is." 

My  neighbor  on  the  right,  Sir  Arnold  Wilson,  Franco  supporter 
No.  i,  rose  and  moved  a  vote  of  thanks  to  me. 

Though  I  had  told  others  that  the  Loyalists  would  hold  out,  in 
my  heart  I  was  worried  and  I  therefore  went  down  again  to  Bar- 
celona. I  got  a  room  in  the  sixth  floor  of  the  Majestic  Hotel.  The 
elevator  did  not  work  because  of  electricity  shortage.  In  the  eve- 
ning, the  lights  went  out— sometimes  for  a  few  minutes,  sometimes 
for  hours.  The  trolleys  began  to  look  like  Moscow  street  cars,  tightly 
packed  inside,  with  men  and  women  hanging  on  in  front,  in  the 
back,  on  the  sides  and  on  the  roof.  The  food  situation  was  no  bet- 
ter and  no  worse,  but  distribution  was  better,  and  the  government 
had  started  importing  more  food. 

Everybody  asked  about  the  possibility  of  getting  airplanes  and 
other  arms  from  America,  Russia,  France.  "The  answer,"  I  wrote, 
"will  determine  the  fate  of  Spain  for  a  generation.  It  will  also  deter- 
mine the  next  phase  of  European  history." 

The  rebels,  with  the  help  of  Italian  aviation  and  highly  motorized 
infantry,  had  broken  through  to  the  sea.  The  Loyalists  therefore 
could  not  go  by  land  from  Barcelona  to  the  Valencia  and  Madrid 
regions.  But  it  was  characteristic  of  Republican  resilience  and  vigor 
that  they  said,  'It  is  better  so.  Each  half  of  Loyalist  Spain  will  work 
harder  and  fight  harder  because  it  must  depend  on  its  own  re- 
sources." I  found  Negrin  more  optimistic  than  a  month  earlier.  Ne- 
grin,  del  Vayo,  and  other  political  leaders,  and  many  military  leaders 
flew  regularly  over  rebel  lines  from  one  section  to  the  other.  Once 
a  cabinet  meeting  was  held  in  Madrid.  That  electrified  the  besieged 
city.  To  carry  mail  from  Catalonia  to  Valencia,  the  Republic  fitted 
out  a  special  submarine  and  printed  an  appropriate  postage  stamp. 
Despite  the  Fascist  blockade,  a  regular  passenger  and  freight  service 
was  established  between  Barcelona  and  Valencia. 

Throughout  my  stay  in  Barcelona,  I  visited  the  Foreign  Office 
every  day,  and  every  day  I  saw  Ivor  Montagu  sitting  in  del  Vayo's 


492      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

antechamber  still  waiting  for  permission  from  the  War  Department 
to  take  moving  pictures  at  the  front.  Frequently  I  found  Ivor  read- 
ing Pushkin's  poems  in  English  translation.  Once  he  said  to  me, 
"You  know,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Loyalist  government  ought  to 
enunciate  its  war  aims,  a  sort  of  Fourteen  Points  program  like  Wood- 
row  Wilson's." 

"Wonderful  idea,"  I  said,  "why  has  it  never  occurred  to  any- 
body?" 

I  passed  the  idea  on  to  del  Vayo.  "Stupendo?  he  exclaimed.  He 
talked  to  Negrin.  Negrin  said,  "Fine,  write  them."  Vayo  drafted  ten 
points  and  showed  them  to  Negrin.  Negrin  said,  "We  must  have 
thirteen  to  show  that  we  are  not  superstitious,"  and  he  added  three 
himself.  The  Thirteen  Points  were  published  on  May  i,  1938,  and 
became  the  cardinal  principles  of  the  Republic.  Negrin  frequently 
referred  to  them  in  speeches.  They  were  communicated  officially 
to  foreign  governments,  and  pro-Loyalist  propaganda  abroad  often 
took  them  as  its  text.  The  war  and  peace  aims  were:  Absolute  inde- 
pendence for  Spain.  Expulsion  of  foreign  military  forces.  "Pure 
democracy"  on  the  basis  of  universal  suffrage.  No  reprisals  after 
the  war  on  individuals  who  took  part  in  it.  Respect  for  regional  lib- 
erties of  Spanish  provinces,  a  guarantee  of  civil  rights.  "Liberty  of 
conscience  and  the  free  exercise  of  religious  belief  and  practice." 
Encouragement  of  "the  development  of  small  properties"  by  private 
capitalists  but  no  big  trusts  that  can  control  the  government.  An 
agrarian  reform  to  "abolish  the  former  aristocratic  and  semi-feudal 
system  of  land  ownership."  Guaranteed  rights  of  workingmen.  "The 
cultural,  physical  and  moral  improvement  of  the  race."  An  unpoliti- 
cal army.  Renunciation  of  war.  Co-operation  with  the  League  of 
Nations.  Finally,  a  "complete  amnesty"  for  enemies  on  the  Franco 
side. 

Loyalist  Spain  was  civilized. 


T 


2f).  Farewell  to  Moscow 

ME  to  see  Moscow  again.  It  was  destined  to  be  my  last  trip 
to  the  Soviet  Union. 


I  flew  to  Prague  on  Saturday,  May  21.  That  day  I  called 
on  an  old  friend,  Soviet  Ambassador  Alexandrovsky  who  had  been 
at  his  post  for  several  years.  He  told  me  that  the  Czechs  had  mobil- 
ized their  entire  army  during  the  night  of  Friday  to  Saturday.  "Be- 
tween ourselves,"  he  said,  "they  have  summoned  to  the  colors  not 
only  the  ^classes  mentioned  in  the  official  communique,  but  all  their 
reserves."  The  government  expected  a  German  invasion,  and  this 
was  its  answer.  Czechoslovakia  would  fight.  Alexandrovsky  stated 
that  he  had  been  consulted,  that  he  had  consulted  Moscow,  and  that 
Russia  had  advised  Czechoslovakia  to  order  a  general  mobilization. 
Russia  promised  assistance. 

I  visited  Czech  press  officials.  They  were  calm  and  determined. 
They  had  done  their  duty  to  meet  the  menace.  Now  it  was  up  to 
Hitler. 

Sunday  afternoon,  I  passed  down  Wencel  Street,  the  main  thor- 
oughfare of  Prague,  and  saw  Canaille  Hoffmann  sitting  on  the  ter- 
race of  a  caf6.  I  sat  down  to  have  a  coffee  with  him.  Hoffmann 
was  the  Czech  press  attache  in  Berlin,  a  Socialist  and  a  Jew.  He  had 
come  to  the  capital  to  see  his  superiors. 

His  first  question  was  about  Barcelona.  "It  must  be  tense  in  Spain," 
he  suggested.  That  struck  me  as  funny.  I  said,  "People  in  America 
are  probably  listening  to  broadcasts  about  the  explosive  atmosphere 
here— soldiers  at  their  posts,  the  Czech  Maginot  line  manned,  anti- 
aircraft batteries  stripped  for  action.  But  we  sip  coffee  on  the  sunny 
terrace  and  look  at  those  rejoicing  couples  on  the  pavement." 

We  watched  the  well-dressed  Sunday  crowds  stroll  up  one  side 
of  the  pavement  and  down  the  other.  Peasants  in  folk  costume  were 
selling  flowers.  They  looked  happy.  As  Europe  went,  they  were 
prosperous,  and  they  certainly  ate  and  dressed  well  I  suppose  that 
annoyed  Hitler. 

It  was  a  weekend  of  crisis  and  quiet.  Those  strollers  knew  that 

493 


494      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Nazi  bombers  might  darken  the  sky  at  any  moment.  They  were 
calm.  Their  slogan  that  day  was  "Pleasure  as  usual."  Self-defense 
was  axiomatic.  Who  could  have  thought  that  this  Czechoslovakia 
would  surrender  its  prosperity  and  liberty  without  a  blow!  Left 
to  themselves,  they  would  have  behaved  in  September  as  they  did 
in  May.  But  in  September,  they  submitted  to  the  stupid  mercies  of 
Chamberlain,  Daladier,  and  Lord  Runciman. 

Hitler  suffered  a  rebuff.  He  thought  Prague  would  be  another 
Vienna.  But  the  Czechs  had  decided  to  stand  their  ground.  Hitler 
therefore  recoiled.  Another  Nyon.  The  President  Bene§  of  treaties 
talked  this  time  through  soldiers  and  generals.  Hitler,  subsequently, 
denied  his  evil  intentions  in  May.  Of  course.  Admission  of  defeat 
would  have  clouded  his  aura  of  invincibility.  But  the  Czechs  had 
exact  reports  of  Reichswehr  concentrations  on  their  frontiers.  They 
would  not  have  mobilized  for  nothing. 

This  Prague  episode  was  encouraging. 

I  went  on  to  Warsaw  where  I  saw  American  Embassy  people  and 
some  Poles  and  then  made  that  long  boring  journey  across  the  flat 
face  of  Poland  and  Russia  to  Moscow.  In  that  stretch  I  knew  every 
railway  station,  every  waiter  in  the  railway  station  restaurants,  and 
a  great  many  of  the  porters.  I  was  an  old  customer. 

Markoosha  and  the  boys  met  me  on  my  arrival  in  Moscow,  and 
straightway  Markoosha  started  pouring  dark  news  into  my  ear. 
"How  is  So-and-So?"  I  asked.  Disappeared.  "And  X?"  He  had 
been  shot.  His  wife?  In  exile. 

No  Russian  friends  came  to  see  me.  They  were  afraid  to  see  a 
foreigner.  Ancf  they  had  broken  off  relations  with  Markoosha  be- 
cause she  was  the  wife  of  a  foreigner  and  corresponded  with 
"abroad,"  A  Soviet  woman  was  in  Markoosha's  study  once  when 
the  phone  bell  rang.  I  was  calling  from  Paris.  The  woman  picked  up 
her  bag  and  rushed  out.  To  be  in  a  room  where  a  conversation  with 
a  foreign  country  was  proceeding!  The  idea  frightened  her. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  my  stay  I  received  my  first  Soviet  visitor, 
Mikhail  Koltzov.  He  had  to  know  about  Spain.  He  wanted  to  kiss 
me  but  I  hate  this  European  custom  and  he  embraced  me  instead. 
He  was  still  "all  right."  That  is  why  he  dared  to  come.  (He  was 
purged  the  same  year.  His  articles  and  books  are  no  longer  pub- 
lished and  most  of  his  friends  think  he  has  been  shot.  Next  to  Radek 
he  was  probably  the  most  influential  Soviet  journalist.  Koltzov,  in- 
cidentally, is  the  "Karkov"  of  Ernest  Hemingway's  For  Whom  the 


FAREWELL  TO  MOSCOW  495 

Bell  Tolls.  Koltzov  was  very  emotional  about  Spain.  But  when 
talking  to  strangers  he  wrapped  himself  in  a  smoke-screen  which 
consisted  of  equal  parts  of  brittle  Pravda— editorial  prose  and  literary 
spoofing.  That  made  him  seem  pompous  and  cynical.) 

Markoosha  told  me  how  Russians  now  gauged  the  intensity  of 
the  purge.  When  the  Kirov  was  assassinated  in  1934,  many  hun- 
dreds of  well-to-do  Muscovites  took  special  trips  to  Leningrad  to 
buy  furniture,  paintings,  carpets,  hangings,  and  other  properties, 
which  people  sent  into  exile  after  the  murder  had  to  sell  quickly  at 
low  prices.  The  purge  in  Leningrad  almost  solved  that  city's  hous- 
ing problem.  Now  the  pawnshops  and  commission  shops  in  Mos- 
cow were  full  of  pre-Revolutionary  interior  decorations,  fur  coats, 
and  similar  effects  which  the  Moscow  victims  of  the  purge  were 
getting  rid  of  in  a  hurry.  Apartments  vacated  by  executed,  impris- 
oned, or  banished  persons  were  usually  given  to  GPU  officials.  If 
the  head  of  a  family  disappeared  his  family  was  rarely  permitted  to 
retain  its  home. 

Litvinov  seemed  to  be  empty  inside  when  I  interviewed  him  in 
the  Foreign  Commissariat.  It  was  not  surprising.  The  ground  had 
been  taken  from  under  his  feet.  His  appointees  and  assistants  were 
being  removed  and  imprisoned.  Yurenev,  Ambassador  to  Japan, 
Davtyan,  Ambassador  to  Poland,  and  Karsky,  Minister  to  Lithuania 
were  arrested  in  November,  1937*  A  little  while  kter,  Asmus,  Min- 
ister to  Finland,  disappeared.  Brodovsky,  Minister  to  Latvia,  was 
recalled  in  the  same  period  and  reported  shot.  He  was  an  old  friend 
of  mine.  Barmine,  Soviet  Charge  d' Affaires  in  Greece,  received  or- 
ders to  return  home  in  December,  1937.  He  refused  and  lost  his  citi- 
zenship. Boris  Skvirsky,  loyal  servant  of  the  Soviet  government  in 
Washington,  kter  appointed  Minister  to  Afghanistan,  left  that  post 
by  request  late  in  1937.  Bogomolov,  Ambassador  to  China,  was  dis- 
missed. Minister  to  Denmark  Tikhmenev  was  dismissed  in  Decem- 
ber, 1937,  Minister  to  Hungary  Bekzadian  was  dismissed  the  same 
month.  Minister  to  Norway  Yakubovitch  was  dismissed  simultane- 
ously and  charged  with  Fascist  conspiracy.  In  January,  1938,  Os- 
trovsky  was  withdrawn  from  the  Soviet  Legation  in  Rumania.  Every 
one  of  these  men  has  vanished.  On  April  5,  1938,  Feodor  Raskolnikov, 
Soviet  Minister  to  Bulgaria,  ousted  from  his  position,  refused  to  obey 
orders  and  forfeited  his  Soviet  citizenship.  Raskolnikov  was  a  young 
and  fiery  revolutionist.  An  officer  in  the  Czarist  fleet,  he  brought 
one  of  the  Czar's  cruisers  over  to  the  Bolsheviks  in  November,  1917. 


496      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  British  captured  him.  Then  they  exchanged  him  for  feight  Brit- 
ish officers.  He  took  command  of  die  Soviet  flotilla  in  the  Caspian 
and  fought  with  great  daring  in  Persian  waters.  Later  he  became  a 
prominent  Soviet  author.  This  flaming  Bolshevik  fighter  broke  with 
his  country.  He  died  in  mysterious  circumstances  in  a  hospital  in 
Nice  a  few  months  later. 

Leo  Karakhan,  Ambassador  to  Turkey,  was  shot  in  December, 
1937.  N.  Krestinsky,  Litvinov's  assistant  commissar,  had  been  sen- 
tenced to  be  shot.  Litvinov's  private  secretary,  Gershelman,  had  been 
arrested.  Several  of  his  secretaries  and  translators  had  been  arrested 
in  his  own  office.  Most  of  the  heads  of  departments  in  the  Foreign 
Commissariat  had  been  arrested. 

With  the  exceptions  of  Maisky  in  London,  Suritz  in  Paris,  and 
Boris  Stein  in  Rome— Stein  was  removed  later— all  Litvinov's  ap- 
pointees as  heads  of  Soviet  foreign  missions  had  been  replaced,  and 
replaced  not  by  foreign  office  men  but  usually  by  GPU  agents.  The 
Soviet  diplomatic  service  is  now  dominated  by  the  secret  police.  A 
few  appointments  have  also  gone  to  the  army.  Litvinov  had  success- 
fully fought  the  influence  of  the  GPU  in  his  commissariat  for  many 
years  and  he  even  resented  the  presence  of  GPU  agents  in  minor 
positions  in  Soviet  foreign  missions.  In  this  latter  respect  he  failed, 
but  he  nevertheless  kept  Soviet  diplomacy  firmly  in  hand.  Now  it 
had  been  taken  from  hum. 

Small  wonder  Litvinov  seemed  empty  inside.  Always  when  a  high 
Soviet  official  was  purged,  most  of  die  personnel  of  his  department 
was  purged  after  him.  Guilty  or  not,  they  were  punished  because 
he  was,  for  no  man  in  prominent  position  is  merely  an  individual. 
He  creates  his  own  system  and  has  a  loyal  following.  To  destroy 
the  individual  the  Kremlin  felt  it  had  to  destroy  his  system.  In  the 
case  of  Yagoda,  chief  of  the  GPU,  this  meant  the  dismissal  or  arrest 
and  execution  of  many,  many  tens  of  thousands.  In  the  case  of  Lit- 
vinov it  meant  hundreds.  But  in  Litvinov's  instance,  the  process 
was  reversed.  Litvinov's  system  was  smashed  while  he  remained.  He 
remained  because  both  at  home  and  abroad  he  had  been  identified 
with  a  popular  Soviet  foreign  policy.  At  every  lecture  I  delivered 
in  the  United  States  during  1939  and  1940,  I  was  asked  what  had 
happened  to  Litvinov.  Because  of  his  popularity  he  was  retained  in 
office  until  Stalin  was  ready  to  sign  with  Hitler  and  scuttle  Lit- 
vinov's foreign  policy.  By  that  time  Litvinov  had  become  merely 
one  person.  He  had  been  shorn  of  influence  and  power.  It  was  there- 


FAREWELL  TO  MOSCOW  497 

fore  unnecessary  to  shoot  him  and  he  was  permitted  to  engage  "in 
literary  activity." 

I  asked  Litvinov  whether  he  was  not  pleased  with  the  firm  stand 
taken  by  Czechoslovakia.  He  said  yes,  but  he  distrusted  England 
and  France.  "Hitler  is  not  through  yet,"  he  declared.  "The  British 
and  French  want  an  agreement  with  Germany." 

"And  your  own  country,"  he  added  bitterly.  "Your  President 
delivers  eloquent  orations  against  the  aggressors  but  America  con- 
tinues to  ship  munitions,  oil  and  scrap  iron  to  Japan." 

He  also  felt  sour  about  Spain.  "Always  defeats,  always  retreats," 
he  said.  We  always  spoke  English. 

I  said,  "The  reason  for  all  the  defeats  and  retreats  is  Franco's  air 
superiority.  If  you  gave  the  Loyalists  five  hundred  airplanes  they 
could  win  the  war." 

"Five  hundred  airplanes.  Five  hundred  airplanes  would  do  us 
more  good  in  China." 

I  argued  on  that  point.  Finally  he  said,  "I  will  talk  with  my  higher- 
ups.  I  have  no  airplanes.  You  know  what  I  am.  I  merely  hand  on 
diplomatic  documents." 

Impassioned  enemies  of  the  Soviet  government  have  charged  that 
it  withheld  airplanes  and  other  munitions  from  the  Loyalists  in  order 
to  bring  about  changes  ,in  Spanish  domestic  politics  which  would 
enhance  the  strength  of  the  Spanish  Communists.  There  is  no  proof 
of  this,  and  I  believe  the  accusation  is  incorrect. 

Many  circumstances  affected  Soviet  munitions  sales  to  Spain.  The 
war  in  China  commenced  in  July,  1937.  A  quick  Japanese  victory- 
would  have  been  detrimental  to  Soviet  Russia's  defense  interests. 
Moscow  sent  hundreds  of  planes  and  pilots  to  serve  Chiang  Kai- 
shek.  That  left  fewer  machines  for  export  to  Spain.  Soviet  industrial 
capacity  is  limited. 

The  Czechoslovak  crisis  started  in  May,  1938,  and  continued 
through  Munich  to  October,  1938.  During  that  period,  a  European 
war  might  have  involved  Russia.  Stalin  therefore  reduced  his  muni- 
tions deliveries  to  Spain.  He  also  had  to  send  planes  to  Czechoslo- 
vakia. 

A  serious  obstacle  to  Russia's  arms  trade  with  Spain  was  the  prob- 
lem of  transit.  Spain's  supplies  depended  on  passage  through  France, 
Loyalist  Spain's  only  land  neighbor.  And  too  often  the  French  closed 
that  one  frontier.  The  Soviet  government  repeatedly  quarreled  with 
France  over  this  question  during  1937  and  1938.  Ships  heavily  laden 


498      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

with  Russian  munitions  stood  in  French  channel  ports,  usually  Dun- 
kirk, for  weeks  because  Georges  Bonnet  refused  to  let  them  be  un- 
loaded. Sometimes,  the  French  customs  authorities,  acting  on  in- 
structions from  Paris,  would  allow  the  boats  to  be  unloaded  and  the 
goods  to  move  south,  but  then  the  French  customs  authorities  on 
the  Spanish  border,  also  on  instructions  from  Paris,  refused  to  per- 
mit them  to  go  into  Spain.  During  the  great  Fascist  offensive  in  De- 
cember, 1938,  which  ended  in  the  fall  of  Catalonia,  millions  of  dol- 
lars' worth  of  Soviet  arms  were  lying  around  in  southern  France 
waiting  for  clearance  papers  for  Spain.  With  these  arms  Catalonia 
might  have  been  saved.  And  France  might  have  been  saved. 

At  no  time  during  the  Spanish  War  were  there  more  than  seven 
hundred  Soviet  Russians  in  Spain.  Normally  there  were  less.  But 
they  were  key-men.  I  met  many  of  them  in  staff  headquarters,  at 
the  front,  and  in  the  Palace  and  Gaylord  Hotels  in  Madrid,  the  Met- 
ropole  in  Valencia,  and  the  Majestic  in  Barcelona.  They  never  talked 
revolution  or  used  big  words.  They  did  their  work.  They  were  men 
of  iron.  Eighteen  hours  a  day  on  duty,  weeks  at  the  front,  bombing 
twice  a  day— they  did  not  stop  as  long  as  there  was  something  to 
do.  Then  they  bathed  and  relaxed;  they  did  not  talk  revolution.  They 
had  done  revolution.  .  .  .  Some  were  purged  when  they  returned 
to  Russia. 

The  purge  in  1938  ranged  free  and  far,  and  Litvinov's  Foreign 
Office  was  not  the  only  sufferer.  The  "Stalin"  Constitution  of  1936 
had  been  drafted  by  a  Commission  of  twenty-seven,  Stalin  and 
twenty-six  others.  Of  the  twenty-six,  fifteen  had  been  purged  by 
1938.  They  were  all  leaders  of  the  Bolshevik  regime. 

Liubchenko,  the  Prime  Minister  of  the  Ukraine,  "committed  sui- 
cide" on  September  2,  1937.  I  put  it  in  quotation  marks  because  he 
was  mentioned  in  one  of  the  Moscow  trials  as  an  active  traitor  which 
probably  meant  that  he  was  shot.  The  same  month  ten  important 
officials  of  the  Leningrad  electric  power  plant  were  reported  exe- 
cuted. Also  seven  Bolsheviks  in  the  city  of  Ordjonekidze  for  be- 
longing to  a  "rightist  wrecking  society"  under  the  leadership  of 
Hermann  Mgaloblishvili.  That  meant  that  Mgaloblishvili,  President 
of  Georgia,  whom  I  had  interviewed  every  year  for  years  when  I 
visited  Tiflis,  was  no  more.  Twenty  "wreckers"  executed  in  the  Far 
East.  Four  executed  and  six  imprisoned  in  Ossetia  for  damaging  a 
grain  elevator.  Four  executed  in  Leningrad  for  poisoning  sailors  of 
the  Baltic  fleet  with  bad  meat.  Nineteen  railway  workers  shot  at 


FAREWELL  TO  MOSCOW  499 

Vladivostok  as  "Trotzkyist  terrorists."  About  a  hundred  more  exe- 
cutions were  recorded  in  September,  1937.  This  month  was  typical. 

In  the  period  between  August,  1937,  and  May,  1938,  the  Presi- 
dent and  Vice-President  of  the  Adjaristan  Republic  were  executed. 
Bubnov,  Commissar  of  Education  disappeared-the  eighth  of  seven- 
teen members  of  the  Russian  cabinet  to  go.  Rukhimovitch,  Com- 
missar of  Defense  Industries,  was  removed  and  not  reappointed- 
i.e.,  purged.  The  head  of  the  GPU  at  Sukhum  was  executed  with 
many  of  his  assistants.  Grad,  who  succeeded  Cherviakov  as  Presi- 
dent of  White  Russia,  removed.  Yakovlev,  Commissar  of  Agricul- 
ture, arrested.  Arens,  former  Consul  in  New  York,  purged.  Leo 
Karakhan,  former  assistant  Commissar  of  Foreign  Affairs,  executed. 
Yenukidze,  a  big  blond  Georgian,  secretary  of  the  Soviet  govern- 
ment, executed.  General  AJksnis  executed.  Zuckerman,  chief  of  the 
Central  Asian  department  of  the  Foreign  Office,  executed.  Shebol- 
dayev,  chief  of  the  Communist  party  of  the  North  Caucasus,  exe- 
cuted. Lubimov,  Commissar  of  Light  Industry,  and  his  aides  dis- 
missed. Ostrovsky,  keeper  of  the  Moscow  Zoo,  and  the  animal 
feeders  dismissed  "for  cruelty."  Professor  Vavilov,  member  of  the 
Academy  of  Science,  agriculturist  with  an  international  reputation, 
accused  of  "wrecking."  Krylenko,  famed  prosecutor  in  former  Mos- 
cow trials,  removed  and  since  unheard  of.  Admiral  Orlov  executed. 
Admiral  Sivikov  executed.  General  Yegorov,  Marshal  of  the  Red 
Army,  executed.  Commissar  of  Agriculture  Eiche  discharged.  Gen- 
eral Lushkov  of  the  Far  Eastern  Red  Army  flees  to  Japan;  and  his 
subordinates  in  Russia  reported  executed.  Petrovsky,  President  of 
the  Ukraine,  purged.  Natalie  Satz,  charming  and  gifted  director  of 
the  Moscow  Children's  Theatre,  exiled.  Dynamic  Betty  Glan,  direc- 
tor of  the  Moscow  Park  of  Culture,  purged.  These  are  only  the 
prominent  ones.  The  executions  and  arrests  of  smaller  people  add 
up  to  thousands. 

And  between  March  2  and  13,  1938,  the  greatest  of  all  Moscow 
trials  had  taken  place.  Nicholas  Bukharin,  former  member  of  the 
supreme  Bolshevik  leadership,  editor  of  Pravda  and  Izvestia,  dearly 
beloved  by  Lenin,  leading  Bolshevik  philosopher;  Alexis  Rykov, 
Prime  Minister  of  the  Soviet  Union;  Yagoda,  head  of  the  GPU  for 
many  years;  Krestinsky,  Ambassador  to  Berlin  and  assistant  Foreign 
Commissar;  Christian  G.  Rakovsky,  Ambassador  to  London  and 
Paris;  Rosengoltz,  Commissar  of  Foreign  Trade;  Chernov,  Com- 
missar of  Agriculture;  Grinko,  Commissar  of  Finance;  and  thirteen 


500      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

others— all  were  found  guilty  of  all  the  crimes  in  the  Soviet  calen- 
dar. Eighteen  were  sentenced  to  be  shot.  Rakovsky,  one  of  the  three 
exceptions,  got  a  twenty-year  prison  sentence,  Bessonov,  former 
Counselor  in  the  Berlin  Embassy,  fifteen  years,  and  Professor  Plet- 
nev,  Russia's  best-known  heart  specialist,  a  man  over  seventy,  twen- 
ty-five years.  (The  maximum  prison  sentence  had  been  raised  from 
ten  to  twenty-five  years.) 

Markoosha  did  not  want  to  live  in  Soviet  Russia  any  longer.  She 
had  previously  connected  her  life  and  future  with  it.  She  was  a 
Soviet  citizen.  Marriage  with  me  in  November,  1922,  did  not  make 
her  an  American  citizen.  We  expected  that  our  two  boys,  George 
and  Victor,  would  make  Russia  their  permanent  home,  and  Mar- 
koosha did  not  want  them  to  be  foreigners  in  it.  She  therefore 
thought  it  unnecessary  to  register  them  at  the  United  States  con- 
sulate. 

But  in  May,  1938,  I  told  her  definitely  that  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened in  Spain,  and  even  if  the  struggle  there  were  to  end  soon  in 
defeat,  I  had  no  intention  of  coming  back  to  the  Soviet  Union.  I 
would  not  return  to  Moscow  and  write  about  the  sort  of  develop- 
ments that  now  darkened  the  horizon.  I  could  not  write  about  them 
favorably  because  I  disapproved  of  them  and  if  I  stayed  and  wrote 
about  them  unfavorably,  my  life  would  lose  many  of  its  joys.  I 
refused  to  report  a  perpetual  funeral. 

Markoosha  accordingly  decided  that  she  wanted  to  leave  for  good. 
She  too  had  changed  her  mind  about  Russia.  In  fact,  she,  with  her 
deep  intuition  and  keen  sensitivity,  had  turned  against  Stalin's  policy 
before  I  had.  For  her,  the  Revolution  meant  first  of  all  the  human 
side,  and  it  was  being  trampled  in  the  gutter.  Women,  culture,  lit- 
erature, people's  feelings,  personal  dignity  were  offended  every  day, 
and  these,  as  she  used  to  tell  me  when  I  was  carried  away  by  the 
success  of  the  Five  Year  Plans,  were  more  important  to  her  than 
increased  steel  and  coal  production  or  even  the  construction  of  new 
cities. 

At  Markoosha's  request  I  accordingly  wrote  a  letter  to  Yezhov, 
head  of  the  GPU  or  Commissariat  of  Home  Affairs,  as  it  had  been 
rechristened,  telling  him  that  my  work  would  henceforth  keep  me 
abroad  and  that  I  therefore  wanted  my  family  to  emigrate.  Mar- 
koosha needed  a  Soviet  foreign  passport.  The  boys,  as  my  children, 
were  American  citizens,  but  the  Soviet  government  might  dispute 
this  and  try  to  keep  them  in  Russia.  I  deposited  my  letter  in  Yez- 


FAREWELL  TO  MOSCOW  501 

hov's  personal  mail  box  outside  the  GPU  headquarters.  I  never  re- 
ceived a  reply  or  an  acknowledgment.  I  was  resolved,  however, 
to  pursue  the  matter  much  further.  I  expected  many  difficulties. 

Markoosha  and  I  naturally  spent  much  time  discussing  the  sensa- 
tional trials  and  concessions.  I  have  thought  about  them  in  all  the 
years  since.  They  were  a  political  tragedy  but  for  me  they  were  also 
a  personal  tragedy.  Of  the  twenty-one  defendants  in  the  Bukharin- 
Rykov  trial,  I  knew  six  fairly  well.  My  friends  Radek  and  Sokolnikov 
had  figured  in  a  former  trial.  Many  good  acquaintances  of  mine  had 
been  mentioned  in  the  trials  and  executed  as  a  result. 

What  was  the  inner  meaning  of  these  horrible  trials?  Why  did 
they  confess? 


30.  The  Moscow  Trials  and  Confessions 

I  NEVER  approved  of  the  big  Stalin  purge.  I  did  not  write  a 
word  about  the  Moscow  trials  of  leading  Bolsheviks.  I  did  not 
condone  the  trials,  nor  did  I  undertake  to  explain  them.  Neither 
did  I  condemn  them.  I  suspended  judgment  because  I  was  not  sure 
in  my  own  mind  what  they  were. 

I  read  the  records  of  the  trials  when  they  occurred.  I  read  the 
opinions  of  those  who  regarded  them  as  frame-ups  and  the  state- 
ments of  those  who  accepted  them  as  truth.  Now  I  have  reread  the 
stenographic  records  of  the  Moscow  court  proceedings.  I  have  again 
studied  the  literature  on  both  sides.  I  have  a  perspective  now  on  the 
effects  of  the  trials  and  the  purges  which  I  could  not  have  had  at 
the  time. 

Nobody  has  satisfactorily  explained  the  confessions.  If  the  con- 
fessions are  true  that  is  explanation  enough.  But  why  did  they  con- 
fess if  it  was  all  a  tissue  of  lies?  None  of  the  Trotzkyist  propaganda 
or  any  other  material  on  the  subject  provides  a  conclusive,  logical 
solution  of  the  confession  puzzle.  One  of  America's  greatest  jurists 
and  legal  minds  has  said  to  me  that  the  Moscow  trials  were  "the 
greatest  judicial  mystery  of  all  time." 

Karl  Kindermann,  Theodore  Volscht,  both  German,  and  Max 
von  Ditmar,  an  Esthonian  of  German  origin,  were  arrested  in  No- 
vember, 1924,  entering  Soviet  Russia.  They  claimed  to  be  Wander- 
voegel,  young  German  hitch-hikers  seeing  the  world.  But  the  GPU 
arrested  them  and  charged  them  with  plotting  to  assassinate  Trotzky 
and  Stalin.  Their  trial  took  place  in  Moscow  in  June,  1925.  It  re- 
ceived tremendous  publicity.  The  press  in  Germany  fumed,  and 
branded  the  charges  as  shamefully  flimsy.  Von  Ditmar  turned  state's 
witness.  Germans  said  he  was  a  GPU  agent.  All  three  defendants 
were  sentenced  to  death. 

Later  they  were  exchanged  for  a  Soviet  citizen  named  Skobelev- 
sky.  Skobelevsky  was  a  high  GPU  official  who  had  gone  to  Germany 
in  1923  to  participate  in  the  revolution.  The  Germans  put  him  in 
prison.  Stalin,  with  a  primitive  sense  of  loyalty  to  one  who  got  into 

502 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  503 

trouble  for  him,  wanted  Skobelevsky  freed.  The  three  German  stu- 
dents, therefore,  were  arrested  and  condemned  so  that  Russia  could 
exchange  them  for  Skobelevsky.  I  was  told  all  this  by  a  Soviet  offi- 
cial who  followed  the  whole  matter  at  close  range  from  the  inside  as 
part  of  his  job. 

On  June  6,  1928,  I  was  sitting  in  the  gigantic  resplendent  Hall 
of  the  Columns  in  Moscow,  watching  the  Shakhti  trial.  Several 
score  Soviet  engineers,  charged  with  sabotage  and  espionage,  were 
on  trial  for  their  lives.  I  did  not  know  how  much  to  believe.  I  be- 
lieved part;  I  wondered  about  the  remainder.  One  of  the  defendants 
was  an  old  Jew,  past  seventy,  named  Rabinovitch.  He  fought  for 
his  life.  Or,  rather,  he  fought  for  his  name.  He  refused  to  die  as  a 
spy  of  the  Polish  intelligence  service.  Rabinovitch,  defiant  and  Tal- 
mudistic,  engaged  in  a  running  duel  with  Procurator  Krylenko, 
diminutive,  sneering,  bald-headed  Slav  in  hunting  costume.  Rabino- 
vitch challenged  Krylenko  at  every  step.  Defendants  at  Soviet  trials 
are  permitted  to  do  that,  and  to  make  speeches  and  call  witnesses 
and  cross-examine  them.  The  score  was  certainly  in  Rabinovitch's 
favor,  and  some  Soviet  journalists  took  a  secret  delight  in  the  great 
Krylenko's  discomfiture. 

One  afternoon,  a  GPU  soldier,  with  bayoneted  rifle  by  his  side, 
marched  in  a  witness  named  Mukhin.  To  this  day  I  have  remembered 
his  name  and  his  sallow  pasty  face.  He  had  been  in  prison  for  months 
on  a  charge  unrelated  to  die  Shakhti  trial.  Sworn  in,  he  testified 
that  he,  Mukhin,  had  handed  money  to  Rabinovitch  as  a  bribe  and 
for  distribution  to  other  saboteurs. 

Rabinovitch  rose,  walked  to  within  two  feet  of  Mukhin,  looked 
him  in  the  eye,  and  said,  "Tell  me,  please,  about  whom  are  you 
speaking,  me  or  somebody  else?" 

"I  am  talking  about  you." 

"Why  do  you  lie,  eh?"  exclaimed  Rabinovitch.  "Who  told  you  to 
lie?  You  know  you  gave  me  no  money." 

Mukhin,  speaking  in  a  monotone  lie  an  automaton,  stuck  to  his 
story.  The  GPU  soldier  marched  him  out.  Krylenko  looked  crest- 
fallen. It  had  not  worked.  It  was  obvious  to  everybody  that  Mukhin 
had  repeated  what  was  rehearsed  in  the  GPU  cellar.  I  said  this  to  a 
Soviet  Foreign  Office  chief  who  was  present.  He  kept  quiet.  That 
is  the  way  a  Bolshevik  assents  on  a  ticklish  subject. 

A  trial  of  Soviet  citizens  took  place  in  March,  1931,  in  the  same 
Moscow  Hall  of  Columns.  They  were  charged  with  Menshevism, 


504      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

or  anti-Bolshevism.  They  confessed.  They  disclosed,  indeed,  that 
Rafael  Abramovitch,  exiled  Russian  Menshevik  leader,  had  come  into 
the  Soviet  Union  illegally  and  stayed  with  them  from  the  middle 
of  July  to  the  middle  of  August,  1928.  They  described  in  detail  how 
they  met  him  and  where,  what  he  said  to  diem,  and  what  they  said 
to  him. 

Abramovitch,  living  in  permanent  exile  outside  of  Russia,  gave  a 
detailed  interview  to  the  foreign  press  in  which  he  stated  that  he 
could  not  have  been  in  Russia  during  that  period.  He  was  on  vaca- 
tion in  the  little  German  town  of  Plau,  Mecklenburg.  The  police 
record,  the  registry  of  the  boarding  house,  and  the  affidavits  of 
friends  who  had  seen  him  there  every  day  confirmed  this.  He  had 
participated  in  the  International  Socialist  Congress  at  Brussels,  spoke 
almost  every  day  at  the  public  sessions,  and  was  often  photographed 
and  seen  with  the  delegates.  The  minutes  of  the  Congress,  die  affi- 
davits of  delegates,  and  his  passport  confirmed  that.  Abramovitch 
added  that  neither  had  he  gone  into  die  Soviet  Union  at  any  other 
time. 

'  In  1929,  when  I  visited  Christian  G.  Rakovsky  in  exile  at  Saratov, 
he  could  have  recanted  his  Trotskyism  and  returned  to  Moscow 
to  work  as  a  rehabilitated  Bolshevik.  But  he  suffered  Siberian  exile 
for  five  more  years.  At  his  trial  in  April,  1938,  he  confessed  that 
he  had  been  a  British  spy  since  1924.  If  he  was  a  spy  why  did  he 
not,  in  1929,  seize  the  chance  to  resume  work  in  Moscow? 

I  approached  the  Moscow  trials  with  considerable  skepticism.  But 
it  is  one  thing  to  have  doubts  and  another  to  be  certain  that  all  the 
trials  were  frame-ups  based  on  false  evidence  and  forced  admissions 
of  guilt. 

First  of  all,  why  the  trials? 

Since  there  is  no  abstract  justice  under  Bolshevism— no  absolute 
sins  and,  unfortunately,  no  absolute  virtues— it  is  necessary  to  ask 
what  the  Soviet  regime  tried  to  achieve  by  the  trials.  Many  Bolshe- 
viks have  been  executed  without  trials,  and  the  defendants  in  the 
trials  could  have  bfeen  executed  without  trials.  Why  die  trials? 

The  chief  defendant  in  all  the  three  Moscow  trials  of  leading  Bol- 
sheviks was  Leon  Trotzky.  Men  sat  in  the  dock  and  made  statements 
and  received  sentences.  Yet  Trotzky  was  the  person  the  court  wished 
to  condemn.  The  edifice  of  guilt  which  the  state  prosecutor  Andr6 
Vishinsky  sought  to  construct  was  an  enormous  leaning  skyscraper. 
Its  numerous  floors  and  underground  cellars  were  often  connected 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  505 

with  one  another,  but  sometimes  not.  Threads  from  them  all  ended 
in  the  hand  of  Trotzky.  It  was  a  case  of  remote  control. 

The  scheme,  as  it  emerged  from  the  confessions,  was  this:  The 
Trotzkyists  in  the  Soviet  Union  would  hasten  a  foreign  attack  on 
Russia.  The  attackers— Germany  and  Japan— would  help  Trotzky  and 
his  friends  to  rule  defeated  Russia.  Trotzky  would  give  the  Ukraine 
to  Germany  and  the  Far  Eastern  provinces  and  Amur  district  to 
Japan.  The  Germans  would  also  get  economic  concessions  in  Russia. 

Radek,  testifying  under  the  eyes  of  sixteen  co-defendants,  the 
judges  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  prosecuting  attorney  Vishinsky, 
and  his  assistants,  scores  of  Soviet  and  foreign  journalists,  a  group  of 
foreign  diplomats,  and  hundreds  of  Soviet  spectators,  declared  that 
he  had  frequently  been  in  touch  with  Trotzky  and  received  several 
letters  from  Trotzky  by  secret  emissaries.  "In  1935,"  said  Radek, 
"the  question  was  raised  of  going  back  to  capitalism."  Vishinsky: 
"To  what  limits?" 

Radek:  "What  Trotzy  proposed  was  without  limits.  To  such 
limits  as  the  enemy  might  require."  The  enemy  was  Germany  and 
Japan.  Trotzky,  according  to  Radek,  advised  a  complete  sell-out  to 
Russia's  foes  and  to  world  Fascism. 

How  was  this  to  be  achieved?  Trotzky  wanted  the  Soviet  leaders 
assassinated,  the  accused  in  the  three  trials  deposed.  Kill  Stalin,  Voro- 
shilov,  Molotov,  Kirov,  Kaganovitch,  Zhdanov,  and  the  others.  Com- 
mit acts  of  sabotage.  Wreck  trains  and  factories.  Blow  up  bridges. 
Poison  soldiers.  Give  military  information  to  Berlin  and  Tokio. 
Crush  Bolshevism.  Subjugate  Russia.  Then  Trotzky  and  his  accom- 
plices, as  puppets  of  Hitler  and  the  Mikado,  would  govern  this  capi- 
talistic, truncated,  weakened  Russia. 

This  was  not  just  a  paper  scheme.  Trotzky  himself,  it  was  alleged, 
had  discussed  the  whole  matter  with  Rudolf  Hess,  Hitler's  first  as- 
sistant. (Molotov  saw  Hess  in  Berlin  in  November,  1940.)  They  had 
worked  out  a  plan.  Trotzky  also  had  contacts  with  the  Japanese 
government.  In  April,  1934,  Gregory  Sokolnikov— so  he  reported 
at  the  trial— received  the  Japanese  Ambassador  in  the  Commissariat 
of  Foreign  Affairs.  Sokolnikov  was  then  Vice-Commissar  of  Foreign 
Affairs.  At  the  end  of  the  interview  the  interpreters  went  out,  and 
the  Ambassador  asked  Sokolnikov  whether  he  knew  that  Trotzky 
had  made  certain  proposals  to  his  government.  Sokolnikov  replied, 
"Yes."  The  Ambassador,  you  see,  was  trying  to  find  out  whether 


506      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Trotzky  was  acting  on  his  personal  behalf  or  whether  he  had  strong 
backing  in  Soviet  Russia. 

Think  of  the  members  of  this  anti-Bolshevik,  pro-Nazi,  pro-Japa- 
nese conspiracy!  Rykov,  Prime  Minister  of  the  whole  country.  Ya- 
goda,  head  of  the  mighty  GPU.  Tukhachevsky  and  his  eight  leading 
generals.  The  Number  Two  man  in  Soviet  industry.  The  President 
and  Prime  Minister  of  White  Russia.  The  Prime  Minister  of  the 
Ukraine.  The  Prime  Minister  of  Uzbekistan.  The  Prime  Minister  of 
Tadjikistan.  The  Federal  Commissar  of  Finance.  The  Federal  Com- 
missar of  Agriculture.  The  Secretary  of  the  Soviet  government.  The 
commander  of  the  military  guard  of  the  Kremlin.  Two  assistant 
commissars  of  foreign  affairs.  Several  Soviet  ambassadors.  Hundreds 
of  factory  managers.  Each  one  of  these  had  numerous  subordinates. 
Yagoda  could  put  the  entire  secret  police  of  the  nation  at  the  disposal 
of  the  plotters.  Tukhachevsky  was  the  key-man  in  the  Red  Army. 

Why  did  they  fail? 

Fritz  David,  a  German  Communist,  defendant  in  the  1936  Zino- 
viev-Kamenev  trial,  admitted  in  the  public  hearings  that  Trotzky 
had  chosen  him  for  the  "historic  mission"  of  killing  Stalin.  David 
actually  got  to  a  Third  International  congress  in  Moscow  attended 
by  Stalin.  He  had  a  Browning  revolver  in  his  pocket.  But  he  was  too 
far  away  to  get  a  good  aim,  he  said. 

All  right.  But  Yagoda's  men  guarded  every  entrance  and  exit  of 
the  Kremlin  and  of  Stalin's  apartment.  They  were  posted  at  frequent 
intervals  along  the  road  which  leads  from  Moscow  to  Stalin's  coun- 
try home.  They  guarded  the  country  home.  Yagoda  himself,  Tuk- 
hachevsky himself,  Piatakov,  and  many  other  accused  had  carried 
arms  and  were  regularly  in  Stalin's  intimate  company.  Why  didn't 
they  kill  him?  There  is  no  answer.  At  the  trials  the  question  was  not 
even  asked.  Why  hire  a  poor  German  Communist  for  a  job  of  as- 
sassination when  you  have  the  whole  Kremlin  guard  and  army  chiefs 
and  the  secret  police? 

From  Turkey,  France,  and  Norway,  Trotzky  allegedly  gave  or- 
ders, and  in  Moscow,  Leningrad,  Siberia,  and  Turkestan  they  were 
executed  by  the  highest  officials  of  the  Soviet;  government,  by  men 
who  had  signed  his  deportation  order,  who  had  condemned  him  in 
speeches  and  articles,  who  maligned  and  swore  against  him  each 
day.  The  prosecution  thus  unwittingly  paid  a  tribute  to  Trotzky's 
personality.  But— Trotzky  has  branded  as  a  lie  every  accusation  lev- 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  507 

eled  against  him  at  the  trials!  He  called  all  the  trials  gigantic  frame- 
ups. 

There  was  in  Berlin  a  swarthy  young  man  named  Bukhartsev, 
correspondent  of  Izvestia,  as  fervent  a  Bolshevik  as  I  have  ever  met. 
In  addition  to  his  work  as  correspondent,  he  spied  on  the  Nazis  and 
got  young  American  ladies  to  help  him.  But  at  the  trial,  Bukhartsev 
testified  that  he  had  been  a  partner  in  this  big  pro-Nazi,  anti-Bolshe- 
vik, Trotzkyist  plot  to  restore  capitalism  in  Russia.  In  December, 
1935,  Yuri  Piatakov,  Soviet  Vice-Commissar  of  Heavy  Industry,  went 
to  Berlin  on  official  business,  to  buy  equipment.  Bukhartsev  met  him 
and  took  him  to  the  Tiergarten,  Berlin's  central  park,  where  they 
saw  one  of  the  Trotzky's  undercover  men.  This  man  said  that 
Trotzky  wished  to  see  Piatakov.  He  would  make  all  the  arrange- 
ments. So  he  got  Piatakov  a  false  German  passport,  chartered  a  pri- 
vate plane,  and  Piatakov  flew  non-stop  to  Oslo  where  he  talked  with 
Trotzky  for  two  hours.  Then  he  came  back  to  Moscow  and  reported 
to  Radek  and  Sokolnikov  the  details  of  the  conversation.  He  gave 
the  details  to  the  court.  Radek  and  Sokolnikov  confirmed  what  Piata- 
kov said.  He  had  said  it  to  them  at  the  time. 

But  Trotzky  denied  that  he  ever  met  Piatakov  in  Oslo  or  anywhere 
else  in  1935  or  any  other  year  of  his  exile.  The  director  of  the  Oslo 
airport  told  newspapermen  that  no  airplane  from  Berlin,  in  fact,  no 
foreign  airplane,  landed  on  his  field  in  December,  1935.  The  Nor- 
wegian family  with  whom  Trotzky  was  living  swore  out  affidavits 
to  the  effect  that  Trotzky  never  received  a  visit  from  any  Russian 
and  never  went  away  from  them  to  meet  anybody. 

Vladimir  Romm,  a  Soviet  correspondent  in  Geneva  and  Washing- 
ton, testified  in  court  that  he  met  Trotzky  in  Paris  by  secret  appoint- 
ment. He  named  the  place,  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Date:  end  of  July, 
1933.  Romm  went  with  Trotzky's  son,  Leo  Sedov,  to  the  park  and 
there  they  met  Trotzky.  Trotzky  gave  Romm  instructions  for  Ra- 
dek. He  also  gave  Romm  a  letter  for  Radek.  The  letter  was  pasted 
in  the  cover  of  Novikov  Priboi's  novel  Tsusrma.  Romm  brought  the 
letter  to  Radek  in  Moscow.  Radek  in  the  witness  stand  confirmed 
this  testimony  by  Romm  and  described  the  contents  of  the  letter. 

But  Trotzky  swore  that  he  never  met  Romm,  never  in  his  life, 
never  even  heard  of  him,  and  never  wrote  any  letters  to  Radek  from 
exile.  Romm  went  all  the  way  from  Washington  to  Moscow  on  a 
GPU  summons  to  testify  at  this  trial  and  to  incriminate  himself.  Since 
the  day  he  appeared  in  court  he  has  not  been  heard  of  again.  He 


508      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

expected  trouble  before  he  left  America  and  told  his  American 
friends  so.  They  advised  him  not  to  go.  He  went  because  he  could 
not  disobey  the  GPU.  It  can  compel  obedience.  It  has  murdered  men 
abroad.  I  know  that  because  I  know  of  one  case  in  all  its  gruesome, 
bloody  particulars. 

The  GPU  killed  Ludwig.  That  was  the  only  name  by  which  I 
knew  him.  So  when  the  French  press  announced  in  September,  1937, 
that  a  Czech  named  Hans  Eberhardt  has  been  killed  under  mysterious 
circumstances  near  Lausanne,  I  thought  nothing  more  of  it.  Several 
months  kter,  I  learned  that  Eberhardt's  real  name  was  Ignace  Reiss, 
and  that  he  was  the  Ludwig  whom  I  had  known  since  1931.  I  met 
him  in  Berlin  through  German  Communists.  He  was  introduced 
simply  as  "Ludwig."  That  was  not  unusual  in  such  circles,  and  one 
asked  no  questions.  Ludwig  was  a  round,  jovial  Polish  Jew  with  a 
most  keen  intelligence.  I  enjoyed  discussing  politics  with  him.  He 
invited  me  to  a  cafe  once,  and  took  me  to  an  expensive  one.  He  also 
dressed  well.  His  conversation,  his  interests,  his  manner  made  me 
think  he  worked  for  the  GPU. 

When  Hitler  arrived,  Ludwig  left  Germany.  Several  times  he 
visited  us  in  Moscow.  He  was  an  interesting  person  and  an  idealist. 
In  1935, 1  met  him  in  Paris.  He  had  made  Paris  his  headquarters.  He 
never  told  me  what  he  did  and  I  never  inquired,  but  in  France  he 
spoke  less  guardedly  and  I  deduced  that  he  was  engaged  in  military 
espionage  for  the  Soviet  government  with  special  emphasis  on  Hit- 
ler's war  preparations.  For  months  he  would  disappear,  and  then  he 
telephoned  me  and  we  met  in  the  cafe  of  the  Hotel  Lutetia  where 
I  lived  or  in  a  caf6  on  the  Champs  Elysees.  I  also  met  his  wife,  a 
brave  intelligent  woman.  She  knew  the  danger  he  courted  every  day. 
He  traveled  across  Europe  on  false  passports,  stole  across  borders, 
used  false  names,  and  lived  illegally  in  Paris.  There  was  always  the 
possibility  that  a  foreign  agent  of  the  German  Gestapo  would  shoot 
him  or  that  the  police  of  some  country  would  arrest  him. 

During  our  Paris  meetings  in  1936,  Ludwig  spoke  very  critically 
of  the  Soviet  regime.  Until  then  he  had  been  completely  loyal  and 
devoted.  When  I  returned  from  America  in  June,  1937,  he  called 
me  up  and  we  had  a  sitting  of  several  hours.  The  Zinoviev-Kamenev 
trial  in  August,  1936,  had  deeply  upset  him.  On  its  heels  came  the 
Piatakov-Radek-Sokolnikov  trial  in  January,  1937.  Stalin  was  de- 
stroying the  old  revolutionists  and,  with  them,  the  Revolution,  Lud- 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  509 

wig  stormed.  Stalin  was  using  the  trials  to  wipe  out  all  potential  rivals 
and  everybody  who  had  ever  disagreed  with  him  or  agreed  with 
Trotzky.  Even  Hitler  did  not  commit  such  atrocities,  he  said.  He 
regarded  the  Moscow  trials  as  frameups  and  the  confessions  as  fakes. 

I  warned  him  to  be  cautious.  If  he  talked  that  way  he  could  easily 
be  reported.  I  suspected  how  perilous  it  was  for  an  agent  of  the  secret 
police  to  turn  against  his  masters.  Since  he  knew  many  secrets  they 
would  try  to  destroy  him.  I  would  have  been  even  more  perturbed 
about  this  fine  person  if  I  had  known  then,  what  I  learned  subse- 
quently, that  he  was  the  chief  of  the  Soviet  military  intelligence 
work  abroad.  When  such  a  man  goes  anti-Stalin  he  signs  his  death 
warrant. 

I  pleaded  with  Ludwig  to  hold  his  tongue.  I  also  said  to  him  that 
there  was  still  Spain  and  that  Russia  was  aiding  Spain.  "Not  suf- 
ficiently," he  said. 

"Still,"  I  urged,  "wait  till  I  come  back  from  Spain.  Don't  do  any- 
thing rash  until  we  have  another  talk."  His  mood  made  me  think  he 
might  kick  over  the  traces. 

I  never  had  any  way  of  reaching  him.  I  did  not  have  his  address 
or  telephone  number.  But  he  always  managed  to  know  when  I  ar- 
rived in  Paris.  This  time,  on  my  return  from  Brunete  and  Madrid, 
he  got  in  touch  with  me  immediately.  "Don't  tell  me  about  Spain, 
They  have  shot  Tukhachevsky,  Yakir,  Kork,  and  the  others.  And 
Gamarnik  committed  suicide.  Silly.  I  knew  Gamarnik.  He  would 
never  have  committed  suicide."  All  restraint  was  now  gone.  He  was 
out-and-out  anti-Stalin.  He  wondered  whether  Voroshilov  would  be 

next. 

He  talked  about  his  comrades  in  Moscow.  He  had  worked  closely 
in  the  GPU  with  several  Polish  friends  and  he  realized  that  whatever 
he  did  would  react  against  them.  He  obviously  contemplated  some 
desperate  deed,  but  I  had  no  idea  what  it  might  be. 

The  rest  I  know  from  the  officially  announced  findings  of  the 
Swiss  police  and  from  Victor  Serge's  book  on  Ignace  Reiss.  Ludwig 
had  worked  sixteen  years  for  the  GPU.  On  July  17,  19371  he  ™*ote 
a  letter  to  the  Soviet  government  full  of  vituperation  against  Stalin 
and  denouncing  the  purges.  He  was  joining  Trotzky,  he  said.  He 
was  returning  the  decoration  he  had  received  for  distinguished  work 
on  behalf  of  the  Revolution.  The  courage  he  had  displayed  in  serv- 
ing the  GPU  he  now  displayed  in  breaking  with  it.  He  wrote  the 
letter  and  delivered  it  at  the  Soviet  Embassy  in  Paris. 


510      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

That  evening  he  sat  in  his  hotel  room.  The  telephone  rang.  He 
answered.  No  one  spoke.  Five  minutes  later  it  rang  again.  He  an- 
swered. Not  a  sound.  This  happened  four  times.  The  GPU  em- 
ployees in  Paris  who  had  opened  Ludwig's  letter  had  had  a  council 
of  war  that  evening  to  decide  on  their  course  of  action.  One  of  them, 
a  friend  of  Ludwig,  left  the  meeting,  walked  down  a  boulevard, 
stopped  in  a  pay  station,  called  Ludwig  and  when  Ludwig  said 
"Hello"  he  hung  up.  He. walked  two  blocks  and  telephoned  again. 
Ludwig  answered  "Hello";  the  friend  slowly  put  down  the  receiver. 
Then  he  called  again  in  another  pay  station,  and  again.  He  wanted 
to  make  Ludwig  uneasy.  But  he  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  him.  How 
did  he  know  whether  Ludwig's  phone  had  been  tapped  by  the  GPU? 
If  his  voice  were  heard  he  would  be  doomed,  for  he  had  just  come 
from  the  meeting  which  determined  the  fate  of  Ludwig.  Or  perhaps 
the  meeting  was  a  trap.  Perhaps  the  GPU  was  testing  him.  Perhaps 
Ludwig  was  a  party  to  the  trap.  If  he  spoke  to  Ludwig  over  the 
telephone  the  GPU  would  know  that  he  revealed  its  secret.  Ludwig 
understood  the  meaning  of  these  telephone  signals.  The  next  morning 
he  took  a  train  for  Switzerland.  He  assumed  he  would  be  safer  there. 

In  Lausanne,  an  old  woman  friend,  Gertrude  Schildbach,  likewise 
a  GPU  agent,  visited  him.  He  had  talked  to  her  about  the  pain  which 
the  Moscow  trials  had  caused  him  and  she  expressed  sympathy  and 
understanding.  He  wanted  to  talk  to  her  now.  He  took  her  out  to 
dinner.  After  dinner  they  walked  down  a  country  road.  An  auto- 
mobile stopped  and  the  men  in  it,  and  Gertrude  Schildbach,  pushed 
Ludwig  into  the  car.  There  they  opened  up  on  him  with  submachine 
guns.  He  struggled,  and  under  his  fingernails  the  Swiss  police  found 
pieces  of  Miss  Schildbach's  hair.  Then  the  murderers  threw  Ludwig's 
body  into  the  road  and  abandoned  the  car. 

I  lived  in  Lutetia  until  after  the  second  World  War  commenced. 
And  every  time  I  passed  the  cafe  downstairs  I  thought  of  Ludwig's 
body  with  bullet  holes  in  it  lying  in  a  Swiss  road. 

So  Vladimir  Romm  knew  he  had  to  go  to  Moscow  when  the  GPU 
in  Washington  told  him  to  go.  If  he  refused  he  would  suffer  the 
consequences.  At  the  trial  Romm  described  in  detail  his  encounter 
with  Trotzky  in  the  Paris  Bois.  But  Trotzky  denied  it.  Trotzky  de- 
nied any  contact  with  Rudolf  Hess,  the  Nazi  leader.  He  denied  any 
contact  with  Japan.  Trotzky  declared  he  was  opposed  to  personal 
terror  and  assassination.  Nor  did  he  wish  the  defeat  of  the  Soviet 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  511 

Union  in  war.  (He  did  not  want  to  see  Russia  defeated  in  Finland.) 
And  of  course  he  was  a  Communist,  anti-Fascist,  and  anti-capitalist, 
and  indignantly  disclaimed  any  wish  to  restore  capitalism  in  the 
Soviet  Union. 

It  was  for  the  Soviet  prosecutor  to  prove  his  charges.  He  sub- 
mitted no  proofs,  no  documents,  no  evidence— except  the  confessions 
of  defendants  and  witnesses.  All  the  trials  were  based  on  the  state- 
ments which  the  accused  made  in  the  preliminary  hearings  in  prison. 
The  procedure  in  court  consisted  in  getting  each  defendant  to  repeat 
publicly  what  he  had  already  said  in  the  secret  investigation  cham- 
bers, and  in  getting  other  defendants  to  corroborate  these  statements. 
Not  one  of  the  witnesses  was  a  free  man.  Even  witnesses  like  Romm 
and  Bukhartsev  had  committed  crimes  against  the  Soviet  state  by 
being  in  touch  with  Trotzky. 

Everything  depends,  therefore,  on  how  one  looks  at  the  confes- 
sions. In  ordinary  jurisprudence,  a  confession  in  itself  is  not  sufficient 
to  convict.  Nevertheless  a  confession  is  not  necessarily  untrue. 

The  men  in  the  dock— not  a  single  woman— had  written  numerous 
bright  pages  in  the  annals  of  Bolshevism.  Forty  years  or  less,  they 
sacrificed  and  labored  for  the  cause,  many  by  the  side  of  Lenin,  many 
in  the  company  of  Stalin.  But  now  they  did  not  merely  blacken  their 
records  with  admission  of  treachery  and  counter-revolution.  They 
assassinated  their  own  characters.  They  spat  on  their  whole  lives  and 
dragged  their  names  through  the  vilest  filth. 

Take  Rakovsky.  An  old  revolutionist  and  recognized  as  such  by 
the  world  and  in  Russia,  he  admitted  at  the  trial  that  he  betrayed  the 
labor  movement  before  1917-  Also,  he  was  a  landlord.  "Well,  of 
course,  I  was  an  exploiter,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  witness  stand.  He* 
further  testified  that  in  1924,  while  Soviet  Ambassador  in  England, 
he  signed  up  as  a  British  spy.  Scotland  Yard  recruited  him  in  a  restau- 
rant. Two  men  just  walked  up  to  him  and  said  he  had  to  work  for 
the  British  intelligence  service  and  he  agreed.  That  is  how  he  de- 
scribed it  in  court.  Then  he  went  into  exile  as  a  Trotzkyist,  first  in 
Saratov,  later  in  Barnaul  In  1934,  he  recanted.  "This  telegram  [of 
recantation],"  he  said  at  the  trial,  "was  insincere.  I  was  lying.  .  .  . 
It  was  my  deliberate  intention  to  hide  from  the  Party  and  the  gov- 
ernment my  association  with  the  [British]  intelligence  service  ever 
since  1924,  and  Trotzky's  association  with  the  [British]  intelligence 
service  since  1926."  After  this  insincere  recantation,  the  Soviet  gov- 
ernment sent  him  on  a  mission  to  Tokio.  There  the  Japanese  intel- 


512      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ligence  service  recruited  him.  "I  returned  from  Tokio,"  he  seemed  to 
boast,  "with  the  credentials  of  a  Japanese  spy  in  my  pocket." 

But  that  was  Rakovsky's  complete  career.  Before  the  Revolution 
he  was  anti-labor  and  an  exploiting  capitalist;  after  the  Revolution 
a  spy  who  conspired  against  his  government  and  the  Revolution. 
Why  did  he  damn  himself  forever  in  this  wise? 

Bukharin  is  testifying  at  the  March,  1938,  trial.  In  the  dock  he  was 
no  less  witty  and  scintillating  than  at  his  desk  or  at  a  mass  meeting. 
Bukharin  denied  complicity  in  the  assassination  of  Kirov.  He  denied 
plotting  to  kill  Lenin  or  Stalin.  He  denied  being  a  foreign  spy  as 
the  indictment  alleged.  But  he  admitted  his  participation  in  a  revolt 
of  rich  peasants  in  the  Kuban  region.  He  did  wish  to  overthrow  the 
Soviet  regime  and  turn  it  over  to  Germany  and  Japan.  For  all  this 
"I  am  responsible,"  he  exclaimed,  "as  one  of  the  leaders  and  not 
merely  as  a  cog."  Heaven  forbid  that  anyone  give  him  too  little 
discredit!  "I  do  not  want  to  minimize  my  guilt,"  he  declared  in  court. 
"I  want  to  aggravate  it." 

Prosecutor  Vishinsky  had  a  difficult  time  with  Bukharin.  He  in- 
sisted that  Bukharin  discuss  what  he  had  done,  not  what  he  had  not 
done. 

BUKHARIN:  "Yes,  but  every  negation  contains  an  affirmation,  Citi- 
zen Procurator.  Spinoza  once  said  that  in  the  sphere  of  determina- 


tion .  .  ." 


VISHINSKY:  "Speak  concretely.  How  were  you  preparing  the  seiz- 
ure of  power?" 

Again,  when  Rykov  confessed  a  certain  crime,  Vishinsky  asked 

Bukharin  for  corroboration. 

BUKHARIN:  "If  Rykov  said  it,  I  have  no  ground  for  not  believing 

him." 

VISHINSKY:  "Can  you  answer  me  without  philosophy?" 
BUKHARIN:  "This  is  not  philosophy." 
VISHINSKY:  "Without  philosophic^  twists  and  turns." 
BUKHARIN:  "I  have  testified  that  I  had  explanations  on  this  ques- 


tion." 


VISHINSKY:  "Answer  me  No." 

BUKHARIN:  "I  cannot  say  No,  and  I  cannot  deny  that  it  did  take 
place." 

VISHINSKY:  "So  the  answer  is  neither  Yes  nor  No." 
BUKHARIN:  "Nothing  of  the  kind.  Because  facts  exist  regardless  of 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  513 

whether  they  are  in  anybody's  mind.  This  is  a  problem  of  the  reality 
of  the  outer  world.  I  am  no  solipsist." 

On  another  occasion  Bukharin  had  admitted  that  he  contemplated 
arresting  Lenin  for  twenty-four  hours  in  1918;  however,  "as  regards 
assassination,  I  know  nothing  whatever." 

VISHINSKY:  "But  the  atmosphere  was  .  .  ." 

BUKHARIN,  interrupting:  "The  atmosphere  was  the  atmosphere." 

Still  another  encounter  between  angry  hunter  and  playful  quarry: 

VISHINSKY:  "I  am  not  asking  you  about  conversations  in  general 
but  about  this  conversation." 

BUKHARIN:  "In  Hegel's  Logic  the  word  'this'  is  considered  to  be 
the  most  difficult  word.  .  .  ." 

VISHINSKY:  "I  ask  the  court  to  explain  to  the  Accused  Bukharin 
that  he  is  here  not  in  the  capacity  of  a  philosopher,  but  a  crimi- 
nal. .  .  ." 

BUKHARIN:  "A  philosopher  may  be  a  criminal.  .  .  ." 

VISHINSKY:  "Yes,  that  is  to  say,  those  who  imagine  themselves  to 
be  philosophers  turn  out  to  be  spies.  Philosophy  is  out  of  place  here. 
I  am  asking  you  about  that  conversation  of  which  Khodjayev  just 
spoke.  Do  you  confirm  it  or  do  you  deny  it?" 

BUKHARIN:  "I  do  not  understand  the  word  'that'  .  .  ." 

At  one  time,  both  gentlemen  began  to  lose  their  tempers.  Said 
Bukharin  to  Vishinsky,  "I  beg  your  pardon.  It  is  I  who  am  speaking 
and  not  you."  The  Chief  Justice  called  Bukharin  to  order.  But  a 
moment  kter,  Bukharin  again  reprimanded  Vishinsky.  "There  is 
nothing  for  you  to  gesticulate  about,"  he  yelled  to  the  federal  prose- 
cutor. Vishinsky  got  his  revenge  when  he  said  a  moment  later,  "You 
are  obviously  a  spy  of  an  intelligence  service.  So  stop  pettifogging." 
BUKHARIN:  "I  never  considered  myself  a  spy,  nor  do  I  now." 
VISHINSKY:  "It  would  be  more  correct  if  you  did." 
BUKHARIN:  "That  is  your  opinion,  but  my  opinion  is  different." 
VISHINSKY:  "We  shall  see  what  the  opinion  of  the  court  is." 

The  accused  were,  for  the  most  part,  men  of  big  caliber  and  great 
intellect  and  they  did  not  show  the  least  sign  of  physical  torture  or 
of  having  been  drugged  or  doped.  They  were  keen  and  quick.  They 
tripped  up  one  another,  made  brilliant  speeches,  and  displayed  good 
memories.  And  always  they  insisted  they  were  traitors  and  criminals. 


514      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Rykov  said  he  worked  for  the  Polish  Intelligence  Service  while 
Prime  Minister  of  the  Soviet  Union.  Krestinsky  said  he  had  been  a 
German  spy  since  1921,  and  that  he  was  in  Germany's  pay  while 
serving  as  Soviet  Ambassador  in  Berlin.  In  return  for  this  he  received 
a  quarter  of  a. million  marks  per  annum  from  General  von  Seeckt,  the 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Reichswehr.  "I  used  to  take  it  to  Moscow 
myself  and  hand  it  to  Trotzky."  (He  said  this  in  the  preliminary 
hearings  but  omitted  it  at  the  trial  and  Vishinsky  himself  failed  to 
bring  out  this  quaint  bit  of  testimony  regarding  the  German  army's 
financing  of  Trotzky.)  Foreign  Trade  Commlftsar  Rosengoltz  said 
he  had  supplied  information  on  the  Soviet  air  force  to  General  von 
Seeckt  in  1922  on  instructions  from  Trotzky.  Other  defendants 
heaped  equally  damaging  admissions  upon  their  heads. 

In  all  this  symphony  of  self -denunciation  and  self-condemnation 
only  one  fully  discordant  note  was  struck.  Krestinsky,  former  envoy 
to  Germany,  former  Assistant  Commissar  for  Foreign  Affairs,  had, 
at  his  first  interrogation  in  prison— June  5  to  9,  1937— within  a  week 
after  his  arrest,  confessed  to  every  crime  of  which  the  preliminary 
investigator  accused  him.  The  public  trial  started  on  the  morning  of 
March  2,  1938.  All  the  defendants  pleaded  guilty.  Except  Krestin- 
sky. He  pleaded  not  guilty.  *• 

Prosecutor  Vishinsky  called  Accused  Bessonov  as  the  first  witness. 
Bessonov  had  been  Krestinsky's  Counselor  in  Berlin.  Under  Vishin- 
sky's  cross-examination,  he  declared  that  he  and  Krestinsky  had  en- 
gaged in  Trotzkyist  activity  in  Germany.  Krestinsky,  summoned  to 
die  side  of  Bessonov  to  testify,  denied  Bessonov's  statements.  Vishin- 
sky reminded  him  that  in  the  preliminary  secret  hearings  he  had 
admitted  his  crimes. 

"My  testimony  of  June  5  or  9,"  Krestinsky  affirmed,  "is  false  from 
beginning  to  end."  He  had  given  false  testimony  in  prison  in  the  first 
week  of  his  GPU  detention.  He  stuck  to  it  all  the  time  he  was  in 
prison.  Why?  Here  is  a  clue  to  the  secret  of  the  trials. 

VISHINSKY:  "And  then  you  stuck  to  it." 

KRESTINSKY:  "And  then  I  stuck  to  it  because  from  personal  experi- 
ence I  had  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  before  the  trial  ...  I 
would  not  succeed  in  refuting  my  testimbny."  Now,  in  court,  he 
declared  he  was  not  a  Trotzkyite  and  not  a  conspirator  or  criminal. 

Vishinsky  called  Rosengoltz  to  the  stand. 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  515 

VISHINSKY:  "Do  you  take  it  that  Krestinsky  was  a  Trotzkyite?" 

ROSENGOLTZ:  "He  is  a  Trotzkyite." 

VISHINSKY:  "Accused  Krestinsky,  I  ask  you  to  listen,  because  you 
will  be  saying  that  you  did  not  hear."  (Krestinsky  had  previously 
complained  that  he  could  not  hear  Bessonov's  testimony.) 

KRESTINSKY:  "I  don't  feel  well." 

VISHINSKY:  "If  the  Accused  declares  that  he  doesn't  feel  well,  I  have 
no  right  to  question  him." 

KRESTINSKY:  "I  have  only  to  take  a  pill  and  I  shall  be  able  to  con- 


tinue." 


VISHINSKY:  "Do  you  request  not  to  be  questioned  for  the  present?" 
KRESTINSKY:  "For  a  few  minutes." 

A  few  minutes  later  Krestinsky  was  back  at  the  stand  denying 
charges  and  making  lengthy  intricate  explanations  in  refutation  of 
accusations  leveled  against  him  by  his  comrades  in  the  dock.  Vishin- 
sky  reverted  to  the  question  of  why  Krestinsky  had  given  false  testi- 
mony in  prison.  Why  did  he  mislead  the  prosecutor? 

KRESTINSKY:  "I  simply  considered  that  if  I  were  to  say  what  I  am 
saying  today—  that  it  [his  early  confession  in  prison]  was  not  in 
accordance  with  the  facts—  my  declaration  would  not  reach  the  lead- 
ers of  the  Party  and  the  Government." 

In  other  words,  he  had  made  his  untrue  confession  in  prison  be- 
cause anything  else  would  have  been  more  difficult,  and  now,  before 
the  eyes  of  the  foreign  and  Soviet  press  he  was  saying  it  was  all  a  lie. 
He  was  not  guilty. 

The  court  adjourned  for  two  hours.  Evening  session,  March  2, 
1938.  More  charges  are  made  against  Krestinsky  and  still  he  disclaims 
all.  "Today  I  am  telling  the  truth,"  he  insists. 

VISHINSKY:  "Since  twelve  o'clock?" 

KRESTINSKY:  "Yes,  in  this  court." 

Court  is  dismissed.  Krestinsky  spends  the  night  in  his  cell..  The 
next  morning,  hearings  are  resumed.  Krestinsky  is  not  called  on  that 
morning.  In  the  evening  session,  Accused  Rakovsky  reports  on  con- 
spiratorial connections  he  had  had  with  Krestinsky  in  the  interests 
of  Trotzkyism.  Krestinsky  thereupon  confirms  Rakovsky's  declara- 
tions. He  adds,  "I  fully  confirm  the  testimony  I  gave  in  the  pre- 
liminary investigation."  But  all  day  yesterday  he  had  denied  that 


516      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

testimony.  What  had  happened?  Vishinsky  also  wanted  to  know.  He 
asked  Krestinsky  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  shift  since  yesterday. 

"Yesterday,"  Krestinsky  replied,  "under  the  influence  of  a  momen- 
tary keen  feeling  of  false  shame  evoked  by  the  atmosphere  of  the 
dock  and  the  painful  impression  created  by  the  public  reading  of  the 
indictment,  which  was  aggravated  by  my  poor  health,  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  tell  the  truth.  ...  In  the  face  of  world  public  opin- 
ion, I  had  not  the  strength  to  admit  the  truth  that  I  had  been  con- 
ducting a  Trotzkyite  struggle  all  along.  ...  I  admit  my  complete 
responsibility  for  the  treason  and  treachery  I  have  committed." 

After  that,  for  the  subsequent  dght  days  of  the  trial,  Krestinsky 
behaved  like  all  the  other  defendants  and  accepted  a  mountainous 
burden  of  guilt. 

When  did  Krestinsky  tell  the  truth,  when  he  retracted  his  confes- 
sion on  the  first  day  of  the  trial  or  when  he  confirmed  it  during  all 
the  remaining  days  of  the  trial?  What  had  happened  to  Krestinsky 
between  the  morning  he  pleaded  not  guilty  in  court  and  the  next 
evening  when  he  accepted  his  guilt  as  he  had  during  the  preliminary 
investigations? 

How  did  the  authorities  extract  the  confessions  from  the  accused? 
The  man  who  knew  was  Yagoda,  the  head  of  the  GPU  for  many 
years.  He  himself  had  staged  numerous  public  trials  including  the 
trial  of  the  Zinoviev-Kamenev  group.  Now  he1  himself  was  on  trial. 
And  he  confessed. 

Imagine  how  much  Yagoda  might  have  disclosed!  But  he'  sat 
through  the  trial  bored  and  listless  and  was  rarely  called  on  to  speak. 
He  did  not  open  his  mouth  until  late  on  the  fifth  day  of  trial  even 
though  others  had  mentioned  him  and  it  is  normal  procedure  in 
Soviet  courts  to  ask  an  accused  person  to  corroborate  or  reject  ac- 
cusations made  against  him  in  the  witness  stand.  Brought  to  his  feet 
on  the  fifth  day  by  Vishinsky  he  helped  Vishinsky  by  disputing 
Bukharin's  and  Rykov's  assertion  of  innocence  in  the  Kirov  murder. 

"Both  Rykov  and  Bukharin  are  telling  lies,"  Yagoda  stated.  "Ry- 
kov and  Yenukidze  were  present  of  the  meeting  of  the  center  where 
the  question  of  the  assassination  of  S.  M.  Kirov  was  discussed." 

VISHINSKY:  "Did  the  Accused  Rykov  and  Bukharin  in  particular 
have  any  relation  to  the  assassination?" 
YAGODA:  "A  direct  relation." 
VISHINSKY:  "Did  you?" 
YAGODA:  "I  did." 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  517 

Then  Yagoda  sat  down  and  was  not  heard  from  again  until  the 
seventh  day  of  the  public  trial.  On  that  day,  Drs.  Levin  and  Kazakov, 
two  Soviet  physicians,  were  testifying  about  their  alleged  efforts  to 
kill  Maxim  Gorky,  revered  Russian  author,  Menzhinsky,  chief  of  the 
GPU,  Kuibishev,  a  member  of  the  Politbureau,  and  Max  Peshkov, 
Gorky's  son.  Levin,  a  venerable  man  past  seventy  who  had  treated 
Lenin  and  who  was  an  honored  figure  in  Moscow,  as  well  as  Kazakov 
testified  that  they  had  acted  on  Yagoda's  instructions. 

Yagoda  said  it  was  true  he  conspired  to  kill  Gorky  and  Kuibishev 
but  not  Peshkov  or  Menzhinsky.  Vishinsky  read  from  Yagoda's  pre- 
liminary evidence  in  prison:  "But  he  (Levin)  said  he  had  no  access 
to  Menzhinsky,  that  the  physician  in  attendance  was  Kazakov  with- 
out whom  nothing  could  be  done.  I  instructed  Levin  to  enlist  Kazakov 
for  this  purpose." 

VISHINSKY:  "Did  you  depose  this,  Accused  Yagoda?" 

YAGODA:  "I  said  that  I  did,  but  it  is  not  true." 

VISHINSKY:  "Why  did  you  make  this  deposition  if  it  is  not  true?" 

YAGODA:  "I  don't  know  why." 

VISHINSKY:  "Be  seated." 

Dr.  Kazakov  in  court  described  in  great  detail  a  conference  he  had 
with  Yagoda  in  Yagoda's  office  and  he  repeated  the  instructions 
Yagoda  had  then  given  him.  In  prison,  Yagoda  had  corroborated 
Kazakov's  information.  "I  summoned  Kazakov  and  confirmed  my 
orders;  ...  He  did  his  work.  Menzhinsky  died,"  Yagoda  had  said. 
But  now  at  the  trial  Yagoda  declared  that  he  had  never  set  eyes  on 
Kazakov  before  he  saw  him  here  in  the  dock.  Vishinsky  read  out 
Yagoda's  statement  in  prison. 

VISHINSKY:  "Did  you  depose  this?" 
YAGODA:  "I  did." 

VISHINSKY:  "Hence  you  met  Kazakov?" 
YAGODA:  "No." 

VISHINSKY:  "Why  did  you  make  a  false  deposition?" 
YAGODA:  "Permit  me  not  to  answer  this  question." 
VISHENSKY:   "So  you  deny  that  you  organized  the  murder  of 
Menzhinsky?" 
YAGODA:  "I  do." 

VISHINSKY:  "Did  you  admit  it  in  the  deposition?" 
YAGODA:  <Tes." 


518      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

The  same  questions  came  up  again.  Vishinsky  said  to  Yagoda,  "At 
the  preliminary  investigation  you  .  .  ." 

YAGODA:  "I  lied." 

VISHINSKY:  "And  now?" 

YAGODA:  "I  am  telling  the  truth." 

VISHINSKY:  "Why  did  you  lie  at  the  preliminary  investigation?" 

YAGODA:  "I  have  already  said:  permit  me  not  to  reply  to  this  ques- 


tion." 


Mystery.  The  man  who  knew  most  said  least.  He  could  have  talked 
as  much  as  he  pleased.  He  could  have  explained  why  he  lied.  Vishin- 
sky asked  him  to  explain.  Yagoda  could  not  have  feared  incriminating 
himself.  He  had  admitted  enough  to  justify  a  death  sentence.  Then 
why  did  he  not  talk  freely? 

A  little  episode  now  occurred  in  court  which  lifts  the  veil  behind 
the  secret  of  the  Moscow  trials  and  confessions.  Doctor  Levin  was 
still  in  the  stand  explaining  how,  on  Yagoda's  orders,  he  killed  Gorky, 
Gorky's  son,  Menzhinsky,  and  Kuibishev.  Any  men  accused  in  a  So- 
viet trial  may  put  questions  at  any  time  to  another  accused  or  to  a 
witness.  Yagoda  rose.  "May  I  put  a  question  to  Levin?"  "When  Le- 
vin finishes  his  testimony,"  the  presiding  Chief  Justice  replied.  Nor- 
mally, Yagoda  could  have  put  his  question  immediately.  Yagoda 
therefore  insists:  "This  concerns  Maxim  Gorky's  death."  "When 
the  Accused  Levin  finishes,  then  by  all  means,"  the  Chief  Justice 
assured  him. 

Levin  continued  with  his  testimony.  When  he  finished,  however, 
the  President  did  not  give  Yagoda  an  opportunity  to  ask  his  ques- 
tion. Instead,  he  adjourned  the  session  for  thirty  minutes.  When  the 
court  reconvened  after  this  interval,  Yagoda  was  permitted  to  put  his 
query  to  Levin.  Yagoda  said,  "I  ask  Levin  to  answer  in  what  year  the 
Kremlin  Medical  Commission  attached  him,  Levin,  to  me  as  my  doc- 
tor, and  to  whom  eke  he  was  attached." 

Levin  did  not  remember.  That  was  the  end  of  Yagoda's  question- 
ing. He  did  not  put  that  question  to  Levin  about  the  death  of  Maxim 
Gorky.  He  substituted  another  irrelevant,  unimportant  question. 

What  happened  in  that  thirty-minute  recess?  Obviously,  Yagoda 
promised  the  authorities  not  to  put  the  question.  This  confirms  my 
belief  that  the  key  to  the  Moscow  trials  and  confessions  is  that  an 
understanding  existed  between  the  accused  and  the  prosecution. 
There  was  an  agreement  between  them  on  how  to  run  the  trial.  All 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  519 

the  defendants  had  turned  state's  witnesses.  They  did  this  for  a  con- 
sideration. They  were  promised  their  lives.  The  court  would  con- 
demn them  to  death.  That  was  necessary  for  the  sake  of  public  opin- 
ion. But  they  would  not  be  shot.  And  I  therefore  do  not  think  that 
all  the  many  leading  Bolsheviks  who  figured  as  confessed  culprits  in 
the  Moscow  trials  were  immediately  executed.  Some  may  still  be 
alive. 

During  the  Bukharin-Rykov-Yagoda  trial  in  March,  1938,  Boris 
Kamkov  and  Vladimir  Karelin  appeared  as  witnesses  against  Buk- 
harin.  Kamkov  and  Karelin  were  the  two  former  leaders  of  the  Left 
Social  Revolutionary  party.  This  party  had  participated  in  the  first 
Soviet  government  in  1917  which  was  a  coalition  government.  Then, 
in  July,  1918,  the  Left  Social  Revolutionaries  killed  Count  Mirbach, 
the  German  Ambassador  in  Moscow,  and  revolted  against  the  Soviets 
as  a  protest  against  the  Brest-Litovsk  peace  with  the  Kaiser.  Kamkov 
and  Karelin  were  arrested  and  sentenced  in  1922.  For  the  next  sixteen 
years,  nobody  ever  heard  of  them  or  from  them.  Then  suddenly 
they  appeared  from  out  of  the  depths,  pallid,  ghost-like  apparitions 
brought  specially  to  the  Hall  of  Columns  from  Siberia,  to  testify  that 
in  1918  Bukharin  wished  to  kill  Lenin  and  Stalin. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  men-  bearing  false  names  could  be  hid- 
den away  for  many  years  in  a  strictly  supervised,  hermetically  sealed 
country  like  the  Soviet  Union.  Few  people  have  ever  escaped  from 
the  Soviet  Union,  and  most  of  the  accused  were  old  men  whose 
families  were  in  Russia. 

What  induced  the  accused  Bolsheviks  to  enter  into  a  bargain  with 
the  authorities? 

They  were  offered  the  alternative:  Confession  or  Death.  Trotzky, 
who  knew  many  of  the  accused  intimately,  and  who  understood 
Soviet  methods  better  than  anyone  outside  Russia,  said  to  the  Ameri- 
can Preliminary  Commission  of  Inquiry— Professor  John  Dewey, 
Carleton  Seals,  Otto  Ruehle,  Benjamin  Stolberg,  and  Suzanne  La 
Follette— which  interrogated  him  in  Mexico  in  April,  1937,  "When 
anybody  has  to  choose  between  death  at  one  hundred  percent  and 
death  at  ninety-nine  percent  when  he  is  in  the  hands  of  the  GPU, 
he  will  choose  the  ninety-nine  percent  against  the  one  hundred  per- 
cent." The  defendants  in  the  Moscow  trials  chose  the  ninety-nine 
percent  of  living  death  because  if  they  had  not  confessed  they  would 
have  been  shot  immediately. 

There  was,  for  instance,  Leo  Karakhan,  former  Vice  Commissar  of 


520      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Foreign  Affairs.  At  the  Bukharin  trial,  several  defendants  stated  that 
Karakhan  was  a  German  spy  and  that  he  conducted  all  the  treason- 
able negotiations  with  the  Nazis.  Then  he  should  have  been  in  the 
dock  with  the  others.  But  he  was  not.  He  had  been  shot  together 
with  Yenukidze,  who,  it  was  alleged  by  the  prosecution  and  by  the 
defendants,  had  been  the  key-man  in  the  entire  conspiracy.  They 
were  executed  in  prison  on  December  19,  1937.  That  was  just  when 
the  defendants  in  the  Bukharin-Rykov  trial  were  being  cross- 
examined  in  the  GPU  prison  for  the  March,  1938,  trial.  If  Karakhan 
and  Yenukidze  had  confessed  they  would  have  been  in  the  dock. 
They  refused  to  confess.  They  were  executed.  This  cannot  have 
been  without  its  effect  on  the  preliminary  prison  cross-examinations. 

Bessonov,  one  of  the  defendants  in  the  March,  1938,  trial,  stated 
in  court  that  he  refused  to  confess  from  February  28,  1937,  to  De- 
cember 30,  1937,  when  he  was  confronted  with  Krestinsky's  confes- 
sion. But  this  is  incorrect.  For  Krestinsky  confessed  in  June,  1937, 
and  had  finished  testifying  by  October.  I  am  sure  it  was  the  execu- 
tion of  Karakhan  and  Yenukidze  on  December  19  which  induced 
Bessonov's  breakdown  on  December  30.  The  publication  of  the  story 
of  the  execution  in  Pravda  was  an  unusual  expedient.  It  served  to 
intimidate  those  who  still  refused  to  confess.  I  can  imagine  what  it 
meant  to  Bessonov  when  a  copy  of  Pravda  with  the  news  of  the 
Karakhan-Yenukidze  execution  was  introduced  into  his  cell.  He 
must  have  read  it  and  said  to  himself,  "This  is  my  last  chance.  If  I  do 
not  confess  now  they  will  shoot  me  as  they  have  Karakhan  and 
Yenukidze.  They  are  promising  me  my  life  if  I  confess.  Maybe  they 
will  keep  the  promise.  I  have  a  one  percent  chance  to  live  if  I  confess 
according  to  dictation." 

Or  take  the  case  of  my  dear  friend  Boris  Mironov,  whom  many 
foreign  correspondents  knew  as  assistant  chief  of  the  Press  Depart- 
ment under  Oumansky.  He  was  witty  and  highly  educated  and  very 
much  in  love  with  his  wife  Celia.  We  used  to  visit  one  another  often. 
Then  he  was  arrested.  At  the  trial,  Krestinsky  asserted  that  he  had 
kept  in  touch  with  Trotzky  through  foreign  correspondents  and  that 
Mironov  had  arranged  all  this.  What  correspondent?  Vishinsky 
asked. 

KRESTINSKY:  "I  cannot  tell  definitely.  He  left  for  America." 

Some  people  thought  it  was  I.  But  I  never  had  anything  to  do 
with  it.  Moreover,  they  assumed  that  there  were  such  activities,  and 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  521 

that  Mironov  engaged  in  conspiracy.  If  he  had,  it  would  have  been 
natural  for  him  to  be  brought  in  as  a  witness  when  Krestinsky  re- 
ferred to  him.  Romm  and  Bukhartsev  who  allegedly  served  similar 
liaison  functions  had  testified.  Why  didn't  Mironov  testify?  Because 
he  refused  to  confess  to  lies.  Mironov  is  dead. 

Innumerable  Bolsheviks  were  shot  without  trials.  Only  those  who 
confessed  were  tried.  Nobody  who  did  not  confess  was  ever  tried. 
In  the  three  big  Moscow  trials,  fifty-five  persons  were  accused.  Of 
these,  only  twenty-five  had  been  important  leaders  and  officials.  They 
constituted  a  small  fraction  of  the  men  who  had  made  and  led  the 
Revolution.  They  constituted  a  small  fraction  of  those  who  were 
arrested  and  who  were  asked  to  confess.  The  confessors  were  far 
fewer  than  the  non-confessors.  It  is  quite  possible  that  even  persons 
who  confessed  were  not  brought  to  public  trial  because  the  GPU 
suspected  that  they  might  use  the  trial  to  deny  their  guilt.  The 
GPU  studies  the  psychology  of  its  victims.  It  put  on  public  trial  only 
those  whom  it  could  fully  trust.  It  almost  made  a  mistake  in  the  case 
of  Krestinsky. 

How  did  the  confessors  know  that  the  Soviet  government  would 
keep  its  part  of  the  compact  and  let  them  live?  They  could  not  be 
sure.  But  there  was  that  one  percent  chance  and  they  grabbed  it. 
Yagoda  must  have  known,  and  others  too,  that  in  Soviet  Russia  many 
state's  witnesses  had  been  spared.  When  I  was  in  Moscow  in  Decem- 
ber, 1936,  a  highly  placed  Bolshevik  intimated  to  me  that  the  German 
Communists  who  had  confessed  in  the  Zinoviev-Kamenev  trial  had 
been  rewarded  with  clemency.  Radek  and  Sokolnikov,  in  the  second 
trial,  were  condemned  to  ten  years'  imprisonment  which  must  have 
encouraged  the  defendants  in  die  third.  In  the  third,  Rakovsky,  Bes- 
sonov,  and  Pletnev  were  officially  given  prison  sentences. 

The  Soviet  government  needed  the  Moscow  trials  and  confessions, 
or  thought  it  did,  and  the  accused  met  the  government's  need.  They 
behaved  in  most  respects  just  as  the  Kremlin  would  have  wanted  them 
to.  In  a  Soviet  court  the  defendant  can  at  one  time  or  another  say 
anything  he  pleases.  But  in  these  trials,  the  defendants  were  inter- 
rupted "on  several  occasions  by  Vishinsky  when  they  approached 
ticklish  subjects— Bukharin's  dispute  with  Stalin,  for  instance— and 
they  never  reverted  to  them.  That  was  part  of  the  bargain. 

From  Stalin's  viewpoint,  the  ideal  result  of  the  trials  would  have 
been  high  praise  of  Stalin,  condemnation  of  Trotzky,  and  acceptance 
by  the  accused  of  the  accidents,  economic  difficulties,  shortages,  and 


522      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

political  disturbances  which  had  occurred  in  the  country  during  the 
past  seven  or  eight  years.  This  was  the  result. 

The  dictator  is  infallible;  the  dictatorship  can  make  no  mistakes. 
That  is  the  official  Stalin  credo.  But  there  had  been  hundreds  of  train 
wrecks.  "We  deliberately  staged  them,"  the  defendants  said.  From 
the  beginning  of  Bolshevik  time  winter  goods  had  been  offered  to 
customers  in  the  summer,  and  summer  goods  in  the  winter.  "That  is," 
said  Vishinsky  at  the  trial,  "the  public  was  offered  felt  boots  in  the 
summer  and  summer  shoes  in  the  winter."  "Yes,"  replied  Accused 
Zelensky,  head  of  the  co-operative  stores.  This,  he  confessed,  was 
part  of  the  conspiracy.  He  thus  absolved  the  Soviet  government  of 
a  shortcoming  for  which  many  citizens  cursed  it.  The  Commissariat 
of  Finance  had  adopted  certain  measures  with  regard  to  savings  banks 
in  which  millions  of  individual  depositors  were  interested.  Commissar 
of  Finance  Grinko,  accused,  declared  that  he  did  it  deliberately  be- 
cause "it  caused  irritation  among  the  broad  masses  of  the  popula- 
tion." Now  the  broad  masses  would  understand  and  no  longer  blame 
Stalin  for  their  irritation.  Stalin  must  be  without  blame.  They  would 
blame  Grinko,  the  puppet  of  Trotzky;  whatever  went  wrong  in 
Russia  was  Trotzky's  doing.  The  peasants  in  collective  farms  had 
complained  that  they  were  underpaid.  Grinko  testified  that  Rykov 
ordered  this  to  sow  discontent.  There  had  been  a  bread  shortage. 
Didn't  you  do  that,  Vishinsky  probed.  Of  course,  Grinko  asserted,  I 
did  it  with  Zelensky.  Tractors  which  served  the  farm  collectives 
broke  down  frequently  and  the  peasants  always  had  trouble  provid- 
ing for  tractor  services.  Ex-Commissar  of  Agriculture  Chernov  re- 
vealed that  he  did  this  purposely  and  put  men  of  his  own  illegal, 
rightist,  Trotzkyist  organizations  in  charge  of  the  tractors  with  a 
view  to  spoiling  the  government's  relations  with  the  peasants.  "As 
regards  stock  breeding,"  he  added,  "the  aim  was  to  kill  pedigree 
breeding  stock  and  to  strive  for  high  cattle  mortality!"  That  should 
satisfy  the  peasants  who  had  complained  that  beasts  in  collectives 
died  too  fast.  There  had  been  a  shortage  of  paper.  Ivanov  testified 
that  he  arranged  that  on  Bukharin's  orders.  Peasant  revolts  in  Siberia 
and  the  Kuban?  Bukharin  did  that  too.  "The  kulaks,"  said  Ivanov, 
"were  in  an  angry  mood."  Bukharin  exploited  this  mood.  The  gov- 
ernment had  distributed  impure  seed  in  the  villages.  "I  did  it,"  af- 
firmed Accused  Zubarev.  In  White  Russia,  the  number  of  livestock 
had  been  disastrously  reduced.  It  was  done  at  the  wish  of  the  Polish 
Secret  Service,  several  defendants  deposed.  Thirty  thousand  horses 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  523 

died  of  anemia  in  1936  in  White  Russia.  "My  work,"  Accused  Sha- 
rangovich  admitted.  This  admission  was  then  headlined  in  White 
Russia's  newspapers  and  radio  broadcasts.  In  a  mining  district,  some 
children  were  digging  in  the  dirt  and  struck  some  dynamite  which 
killed  a  large  number  of  them.  Shestov  took  this  crime  on  his  shoul- 
ders. The  accused  damaged  the  cotton  crop  of  Turkestan  and  the  silk 
production  of  Uzbekistan,  delayed  the  construction  of  a  giant  water- 
power  station  in  Ferghana,  put  nails  and  glass  in  butter,  gave  short 
weight  and  measure  in  retail  stores,  and  committed  hundreds  of  simi- 
lar acts. 

All  right.  The  accused  have  been  removed  forever  from  Soviet 
administration.  But  the  Soviet  press  in  1939  and  1940  continued  to 
announce  arrests  for  train  wrecks,  venality  in  co-operative  stores, 
poisonings.  The  New  York  Times  of  December  14,  1940,  reported 
from  Moscow  that  the  Soviet  newspaper  Soviet  Agriculture  charged 
the  "capitalist  world"  with  "trying  to  send  to  our  country  not  only 
spies  and  terrorists;  the  enemy  is  trying  to  wreck  with  anything  pos- 
sible .  .  .  seeds  infected  with  pink  worms,  lemons  with  larva  of  the 
Mediterranean  fruit  fly,  and  infected  potatoes"  .  .  .  and  diseased 
cotton  had  been  shipped  into  the  country.  The  guilty  nations  this 
time  were  America,  England,  and  the  Netherlands.  Apparently, 
Soviet  farming  had  again  suffered  some  setbacks  for  which  a  scape- 
goat and  explanation  had  to  be  found.  These  setbacks— and  excuses- 
seem  to  be  a  permanent  feature  of  Soviet  life.  In  1936,  1937,  and 
1938  the  Soviet  dictatorship  hoped  to  pass  the  blame  to  those  who 
confessed.  Stalin  must  be  blameless. 

In  court,  Accused  Bukharin  said  they  planned  to  open  the  front 
to  the  Germans  in  case  of  war,  and  then  "it  would  be  expedient  to 
try  those  guilty  of  the  defeat  at  the  front.  This  would  enable  us  to 
win  over  the  masses  by  playing  on  patriotic  slogans." 

Bukharin,  in  other  words,  allegedly  also  intended  to  stage  Moscow 
trials  if  he  and  his  friends  overthrew  Stalin.  The  trials  would  help 
them  rally  the  population  to  their  cause.  Big  Soviet  trials  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  justice.  They  are  forms  of  super-propaganda.  They 
are  not,  primarily  a  product  of  bad  economic  conditions.  They  serve 
to  rewrite  history.  The  Bolsheviks  h*ve  been  very  energetic  in  re- 
writing history.  They  serve  to  alter  the  political  record,  to  white- 
wash Stalin.,  to  blacken  his  enemies,  to  frighten  potential  enemies. 
The  trials  undertook  to  demonstrate  that  the  Soviet  administration  is 
perfect;  the  only  trouble  is  that  some  Trotzkyists  are  still  at  liberty. 


524      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

For  these  purposes  Stalin  needed  the  trials  and  the  confessions.  If 
the  accused  had  been  dangerous  they  could  have  been  removed  with- 
out public  ceremonies.  But  they  were  assets  to  Stalin.  The  only  prob- 
lem was  to  induce  them  to  perform  in  the  required  fashion.  He  paid 
them  for  their  efforts.  He  asked  them  for  confessions  and  promised 
them  their  lives  as  a  reward.  They  hoped  he  would  keep  the  promise. 

The  accused,  accordingly,  were  very  accommodating  throughout 
the  trials.  They  frequently  insisted,  for  instance,  that  the  moment 
any  Soviet  citizen  makes  the  first  short  step  against  the  Soviet  regime 
he  is  bound  to  end  up  as  a  great  criminal  and  traitor.  This  was  a 
warning  to  everybody  against  committing  the  original  sin. 

Above  all,  the  accused,  many  of  them  old  friends  of  Trotzky,  out- 
bid one  another  in  maligning  Trotzky.  This  was  certainly  very  pleas- 
ing to  Stalin.  Thus  Piatakov:  "I  only  deeply  regret  that  he,  the  main 
criminal,  the  unregenerate  and  hardened  offender,  Trotzky,  is  not 
sitting  beside  us  in  the  dock."  Sokolnikov:  "I  express  the  conviction, 
or  at  any  rate  the  hope  that  not  one  person  will  now  be  found  in 
the  Soviet  Union  who  would  attempt  to  take  up  the  Trotzky  banner. 
I  think  that  Trotskyism  in  other  countries  too  has  been  exposed  by 
this  trial,  and  that  Trotzky  himself  has  been  exposed  as  an  ally  of 
capitalism,  as  the  vilest  agent  of  Fascism."  Rakovsky,  for  thirty-four 
years  a  devoted  friend  of  Trotzky:  "I  share  the  State  Prosecutor's 
regret  that  the  enemy  of  the  people,  Trotzky,  is  not  here  in  the  dock 
with  us.  The  picture  of  our  trial  loses  in  completeness  and  depth 
because  of  the  fact  that  the  ataman  of  our  gang  is  not  present  here." 
Rosengoltz:  "Trotzky  .  ,  .  is  the  vilest  agent  of  Fascism.  .  .  Ra- 
kovsky was  right  when  he  said  that  here  in  the  dock  it  is  Trotzky 
in  the  first  place  who  is  missing.  Trotskyism  is  not  a  political  current 
but  an  unscrupulous  dirty  gang  of  murderers,  spies,  provocateurs,  and 
poisoners.  .  .  .  Long  live  the  Bolshevik  party  with  the  best  traditions 
of  enthusiasm,  heroism,  self-sacrifice  which  can  only  be  found  in  the 
world  under  Stalin's  leadership."  Bukharin:  "In  reality  the  whole 
country  stands  behind  Stalin.  He  is  the  hope  of  the  world.  He  is  a 
creator.  ,  .  .  Everybody  perceives  the  wise  leadership  of  the  coun- 
try that  is  ensured  by  Stalin."  That  is  how  Stalin  felt  about  it.  Bulanov, 
Yagoda's  assistant  in  the  GPU,  throws  a  bouquet  to  Yezhov,  Yagoda's 
successor:  "The  Russian  worker,  the  Russian  peasants  are  fortunate 
that  Nicholai  Ivanovitch  Yezhov  caught  us  in  time  and  put  us  in 
the  dock."  Radek:  "We  all  know  of  the  tremendous  work  which 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  525 

the  railways  had  accomplished  under  the  direction  of  Kaganovitch," 
Kaganovitch  was  No.  2,  or  perhaps  No.  3,  Bolshevik. 

These  stuffy  tributes  to  Yezhov  and  Stalin  and  these  denunciations 
of  Trotzky  were  in  the  spirit  of  Pravda  editorials  and  official  propa- 
ganda generally.  The  defendants  were  doing  what  was  expected  of 
them.  If  the  confessions  are  true  these  statements  are  hypocritical. 
Sincere  men  could  not  thus  fawn  on  Stalin  after  they  had  been 
ready  to  kill  him.  They  would  not  condemn  Trotzky  after  they  had 
been  ready  to  commit  murder  and  treason  simply  because  he  asked  it. 

The  Soviet  government  obviously  realized  that  the  confessions 
heavily  taxed  the  credulity  even  of  Soviet  citizens  who  did  not  hear 
the  counter-arguments.  The  state  prosecutor,  and  especially  the  ac- 
cused, used  every  opportunity  to  try  to  make  the  confessions  appear 
more  plausible.  Bukharin,  Radek,  and  many  of  the  accused  obligingly 
devoted  long  impassioned  speeches  to  an  attempt  to  dispel  the  doubts 
about  the  truth  of  their  confessions.  "Please  believe  us,"  they  cried 
in  appeals  directed  to  the  outside  world  and  to  their  own  country. 
But  how  could  one  believe  them?  While  allegedly  serving  as  dupes 
of  Fascism,  while  allegedly  plotting  to  overthrow  the  Soviets  and 
assassinate  Stalin  they  had  written  and  spoken  in  public  in  fulsome 
praise  of  Stalin  and  behaved  as  enemies  of  Fascism  and  staunch  Bol- 
sheviks. Perhaps  they  were  no  less  hypocritical  now. 

The  defendants,  and  others,  have  given  two  unsatisfactory  explana- 
tions of  the  confessions.  It  has  been  said  that  they  confessed  because 
they  were  confronted  by  others  who  had  confessed;  the  weight  of 
the  evidence  broke  them  down.  Not  at  all.  At  the  Zinoviev-Kamenev 
trial,  the  defendants  publicly  accused  Radek,  Sokolnikov,  Piatakov, 
and  Serebyakov  who  figured  in  a  subsequent  trial.  But  when  these 
men  were  arrested  they  did  not  plead  guilty.  On  the  contrary,  they 
denied  their  guilt,  denied  it  for  many  months. 

In  prison,  during  the  preliminary  investigations,  Radek  was  con- 
fronted with  Sokolnikov  who  had  already  confessed.  Yet  Radek  re- 
fused to  confess  for  three  months.  He  did  not  confess  until  a  month 
before  his  public  trial  opened  when  the  authorities  probably  told 
him  that  this  was  his  last  chance:  he  could  confess  or  be  shot.  It  is 
hard  to  say,  "Shoot  me.'*  Krestinsky  confessed  in  his  cell  in  June, 
1937.  Bessonov  was  brought  to  him.  He  accused  Bessonov.  Yet  Bes- 
sonov  remained  adamant  until  December  30,  1937,  after  the  official 
announcement  of  Karakhan's  execution.  Bukharin  resisted  too.  Others 
had  confessed  before  him  and  dragged  his  name  in.  'Tor  three 


526      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

months,"  nevertheless,  he  said  at  the  trial,  "I  refused  to  say  anything. 
Then  I  began  to  testify."  Muralov,  a  commander  in  the  Red  Army, 
the  former  chief  of  the  Moscow  garrison,  refused  to  talk  for  eight 
months  of  imprisonment  and  then  made  an  abject  confession.  Rakov- 
sky  did  not  confess  until  his  ninth  month  of  imprisonment.  So  it  was 
not  that  evidence  was  piling  up  against  them.  It  had  piled  up  long 
before  they  confessed.  Nor  could  it  have  been  physical  torture.  That 
would  get  a  man  down  in  a  week  or  so,  or  two  months  at  most.  It 
was  the  cynical  feeling  that  further  resistance  in  defense  of  one's 
honor  and  name  was  foolish  when  all  the  others  had  submitted  and 
accepted  the  better  end  of  the  Confession  or  Death  offer.  It  is  quite 
likely  that  a  man  like  Bukharin  was  also  motivated  by  other  than 
selfish  considerations.  He  may  have  said  to  himself,  "My  chief  con- 
cern is  to  keep  alive.  Who  knows  what  changes  will  take  place  in 
the  future?"  Perhaps  it  was  with  a  view  to  the  political  role  he  might 
still  be  called  on  to  play  that  he  did  not  wish  to  admit  being  a  spy. 
Overthrow  the  Soviet  regime?  Yes,  that  could  be  interpreted  as  a 
revolutionary  measure  against  Stalin.  But  a  spy  wears  a  black  badge 
forever. 

The  second  unsatisfactory  explanation  of  the  confessions  is  this: 
the  defendants  were  good  revolutionists.  They  were  imprisoned  and 
told  that  they  would  be  shot  for  their  crimes  but  they  could  perform 
one  last  service  to  the  Revolution— admit  guilt  and  error,  glorify 
Stalin,  and  excoriate  Trotzky.  I  think  this  is  downright  rot.  All  the 
leading  defendants  were  highly  intelligent  men  and  every  one  of 
them  knew  that  the  trials  were  doing  the  Revolution  and  Bolshevism 
great  harm  at  home  and  abroad.  If  they  had  all  refused  to  confess 
and  if  there  had  consequently  been  no  trials  it  would  have  been  much 
better  for  the  Revolution.  The  trials  offer  this  choice:  either  many 
of  the  leading  survivors  of  1917— except  Stalin,  of  course— were  base 
traitors  and  Fascists,  or  the  Soviet  government  manufactured  the  evi- 
dence and  extorted  the  confessions.  Neither  choice  is  complimentary 
to  the  Revolution.  No!  If  the  defendants  had  behaved  as  good  rev- 
olutionists they  would  have  refused  to  confess. 

The  confessions  emphasize  the  degradation  of  spirit  caused  by  the 
Stalin  regime.  Some  of  these  Bolsheviks  and  other  revolutionists  had, 
when  arrested  by  the  Czarist  police,  declined  to  open  their  mouths, 
declined  even  to  give  their  names,  Men  spent  their  lives  in  Czarist 
dungeons  because  they  refused  to  budge  one  millimeter  from  their 
ideals.  Was  it  simply  that  the  GPU's  technique  of  torture  was  finer 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  527 

than  the  Okhrana's?  Lengthy  cross-examinations  in  prison,  cruel 
prison  regimes,  no  reading  matter  or  visitors,  threats  of  reprisals 
against  families  certainly  had  something  to  do  with  the  final  decision 
to  confess.  But  these  forms  of  pressure  existed  in  Czarist  times  too,  yet 
true  revolutionists  refused  to  confess.  Moreover,  if  they  had  con- 
fessed under  torture  they  could  have  said  so  to  the  world  at  the 
public  trials.  The  only  way  of  making  sure  that  a  defendant  would 
not  tip  over  the  whole  delicate  applecart  by  revealing  everything  at 
the  public  court  hearings  was  to  promise  him  his  life  if  he  didn't  and 
promise  him  torture  after  the  trial  if  he  did.  I  do  not  think  Krestin- 
sky  would  have  confessed  in  order  to  save  his  wife  who  was  herself 
a  revolutionist.  He  knew  that  she  would  not  have  wished  to  be  saved 
by  an  act  that  would  damn  him  forever  in  revolutionary  history. 

It  was  easy  to  defy  the  Czarist  Okhrana.  It  was  the  hated  enemy. 
But  when  your  own  Soviet  secret  police  asked  you  to.  confess  falsely 
in  order  to  save  Stalin's  face  it  broke  your  heart  first  and  then  broke 
your  will. 

The  spine  of  many  of  the  accused  Bolsheviks  had  been  crushed 
even  before  they  were  arrested.  A  mild  illustration:  Michael  Borodin, 
a  man  of  powerful  build  and  striking  presence,  had  been  sent  by 
Moscow  to  China.  He  quickly  became  die  real  master  of  nationalist 
China.  He  twisted  provincial  war  lords  around  his  little  finger;  the 
big  men  of  China  deferred  to  his  political  sagacity.  In  1927,  he  re- 
turned to  Moscow  and  became  the  scapegoat  for  the  failure  of  Stalin's 
policy  in  China.  He  was  put  in  charge  of  a  Soviet  paper-manufactur- 
ing trust  and,  of  course,  he  made  a  mess  of  it  because  he  lacked  busi- 
ness experience.  Then  he  got  another  but  smaller  economic  job  which 
he  likewise  mishandled.  This  was  all  part  of  a  deliberate  scheme  of 
humiliation.  Finally  he  landed  in  the  editor's  chair  of  the  Moscow 
Daily  News.  Two  little  Communists  were  introduced  into  the  office 
to  hamper  every  step  he  made  and  to  check  and  irritate  him.  Before 
he  could  print  an  editorial  he  had  to  consult  the  Central  Committee 
of  the  party.  He  was  barred  from  any  initiative.  Just  as  a  man  may 
rise  and  grow  when  given  a  big  task  so  he  may  shrink  when  he  is  a 
dismal  misfit  in  a  small  one.  I  was  present  once  in  Borodin's  office 
in  the  Moscow  Daily  News  when  an  American  radical,  a  lad  of 
twenty-three  who  worked  on  the  paper,  came  in.  Borodin  scolded 
him  for  falling  down  on  a  story.  The  American  argued.  Borodin 
became  angry.  The  American  yelled,  <cYou  can't  talk  to  me  that 
way."  Borodin  yelled  back.  They  both  waxed  hot.  Borodin  finally 


528      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

threw  his  hands  above  his  head  and  shouted,  "Get  out  of  here.  You're 
fired."  The  great  statesman  who  had  ruled  millions  at  war  and  molded 
big  Chinese  minds  to  his  will  could  not  manage  a  cub  reporter. 

Magnify  this  many  times.  Rykov  took  Lenin's  job  as  Prime  Min- 
ister and  held  it  from  1924  to  1930.  He  was  under  constant  attack  as 
an  oppositionist,  until  he  was  removed  December  19,  1930.  He  was 
unemployed  for  several  months  and  then  was  appointed  Commissar 
of  Posts  and  Telegraphs,  notoriously  a  Soviet  job  of  no  political  im- 
portance. The  attacks  in  the  press  and  at  meetings  continued.  His 
best  friends  shunned  him.  On  a  vacation  in  the  Caucasus,  he  slipped 
into  a  public  celebration  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Revolution.  People 
moved  away  from  him.  Nobody  talked  to  him.  The  orators  flayed 
him.  In  August,  1936,  his  name  was  mentioned  in  the  Zinoviev- 
Kamenev  trial  as  one  of  the  leading  conspirators.  On  September  27, 
1936,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  Post  Office.  He  sat  home,  did  noth- 
ing, and  waited.  He  waited  for  five  months.  Hie  was  not  arrested 
until  February  27,  1937,  and  arrest  must  have  come  as  a  relief  from 
morose  suspense.  He  stayed  in  prison  for  a  year  before  his  trial 
opened.  After  all  this  he  naturally  had  very  gloomy  and  cynical  ideas 
about  what  had  happened  to  the  Revolution,  and  rather  than  feel 
inspired  to  help  the  Revolution  by  self-flagellation  and  self-immola- 
tion his  mood  was  rather:  "Oh,  what's  the  use.  If  Stalin  wants  me  to 
confess  and  say  thus-and-so,  I'll  do  it.  Why  should  I  die  for  this?" 

When  Rykov  left  the  Commissariat  of  Posts  and  Telegraphs, 
Yagoda  took  his  place.  The  Commissariat  of  Posts  was  a  sort  of  half- 
way house  to  prison.  Soon,  accordingly,  Yagoda  was  ousted  from  it 
and  charged  with  embezzling  funds.  Later  he  was  arrested  and 
charged  with  murder  and  treason.  He  and  Rykov  were  defendants  in 
the  same  trial  in  March,  1938,  and  sentenced  to  death.  The  trial  was 
staged  by  Yezhov,  who  succeeded  Yagoda  as  head  of  the  GPU.  But 
oji  July  25,  1938,  Yezhov  was  dismissed  from  the  GPU  and  ap- 
pointed to  head  the  Commissariat  of  Water  Transport,  which  is 
another  non-political  sideshow  like  the  Commissariat  of  Posts  and 
Telegraphs.  Later  Yezhov  disappeared. 

Stalin's  technique  of  slow-motion  destruction  demoralized  his  vic- 
tims long  before  they  entered  their  prison  cells.  No  ordinary  third- 
degree  would  have  produced  the  confessions.  It  was  a  third-degree 
that  lasted  for  years,  a  third-degree  to  which  the  entire  country  was 
and  is  today  submitted.  The  Moscow  trials  and  confessions  were 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  529 

merely  the  sensational,  highly-silhouetted  shape  of  an  everyday  Soviet 
phenomenon,  and  it  is  only  against  the  background  of  this  phenome- 
non that  the  confessions  can  be  understood.  Millions  of  Soviet  citizens 
live  lies  every  day  to  save  their  lives  and  their  jobs.  They  make  false 
confessions  day  in  and  day  out.  They  write  lies,  speak  lies.  They  lie 
to  one  another  and  know  it.  They  He  to  themselves  and  get  accus- 
tomed to  it.  They  lose  their  illusions  and  succumb  to  the  sole  cynical 
goal  of  self-preservation  until  a  better  day.  The  assassination  of  char- 
acter and  the  annihilation  of  personality  is  the  dictatorship's  chief 
weapon  which  it  never  forgets.  The  further  a  Soviet  citizen  is  from 
the  center  of  the  regime  the  less  he  feels  its  blows.  The  peasants  are 
least  exposed  to  it.  The  workers  more.  The  officials  much  more.  And 
for  the  highest  officials  like  Rykov,  Yagoda,  and  Krestinsky  the 
destruction  of  personality  and  character  took  the  intensified,  tele- 
scoped form  of  trial  and  confession.  The  wonder  of  it  is  that  so  few 
confessed. 

The  Bolshevik  dictatorship  has  become  a  personal  dictatorship.  It 
was  not  that  in  the  beginning.  In  a  personal  dictatorship,  all  persons 
are  effaced  to  save  one  person's  face. 

But  the  eff ect  of  the  Moscow  trials  was  to  undermine  confidence 
in  the  Soviet  regime.  For  years  Yagoda  was  "the  flaming  sword  of 
the  revolution."  He  put  Zinoviev,  Kamenev,  and  others  on  trial.  Now 
he  himself  was  in  the  dock  as  a  traitor.  Could  he  have  staged  the 
trials  to  harm  the  Revolution?  Yagoda  was  succeeded  by  Yezhov, 
and  Yezhov  became  "the  flaming  sword  of  the  revolution."  Then 
Yezhov  disappeared  in  disgrace  from  the  GPU.  Whom  could  one 
trust? 

During  the  many  years  he  had  tortured  Russia  as  head  of  the  GPU, 
Yagoda  executed,  exiled,  and  arrested  millions  of  men,  women,  and 
children.  The  dead  could  not  be  resurrected.  But  were  the  cases  of 
prisoners  and  exiles  reviewed  .after  it  was  allegedly  discovered  and 
proved  that  Yagoda  had  long  been  a  traitor  in  league  with  Fascists? 
Hadn't  he  falsely  accused  and  punished  innocent  people?  A  few 
dozen  individuals  were  granted  clemency  after  Yagoda's  eclipse.  But 
the  vast  bulk  went  on  serving  their  sentences.  How  did  the  wives 
feel  whose  husbands  had  been  sent  away  by  Yagoda?  How  did  the 
families  feel  whose  members  had  been  shot  by  him?  They  got  no 
redress  and  no  comfort. 

Thousands  of  Soviet  authors,  journalists,  party  spealprs,  and  pro- 


530      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

vincial  leaders  had  been  purged  as  "enemies  of  the  people."  Then 
how  could  the  ordinary  Soviet  citizen  know  that  the  man  whose 
article  he  was  reading  in  the  morning's  paper  or  whose  speech  he 
was  listening  to  over  the  radio  would  not  be  annihilated  tomorrow 
as  an  "enemy  of  the  people."  Should  he  believe  what  he  was  reading 
or  hearing? 

The  purges  and  trials  produced  a  serious  crisis  of  faith  in  the  Soviet 
Union  which  continues  .to  this  day.  Since  everybody  is  a  potential 
spy  and  traitor  then  it  is  best  to  distrust  everybody.  This  has  been 
ruinous  to  economic  activity  and  morale.  Keep  as  far  as  possible  from 
responsibility;  do  as  little  as  won't  hurt  you.  Be  a  hypocrite  if  need 
be.  Sauve  qui  peut.  These  became  the  guiding  rules  of  Russian  life. 

The  Soviet  masses  and  intellectuals  took  refuge  in  indifference  and 
passivity.  The  Communist  party  became  more  and  more  of  a  rubber 
stamp.  Citizens  did  not  care  what  happened  as  long  as  they  were  left 
out  of  it  personally.  Stalin's  pact  with  the  Nazis  in  1939?  "Well,  the 
hell  with  it.  I'm  all  mixed  up.  It's  not  my  business.  I'm  taking  care 
of  myself." 

The  trial  of  the  "Trotzkyist  criminals"  who  allegedly  made  a  pact 
with  the  Nazis  led  ultimately  to  Stalin's  pact  with  the  Nazis. 

Why,  instead  of  holding  my  tongue,  did  I  not  come  out  in  1937 
or  1938  as  a  critic  of  the  Soviet  regime?  It  is  not  so  easy  to  throw 
away  the  vision  to  which  one  has  been  attached  for  fifteen  years. 
Moreover,  in  1938,  the  Soviet  government's  foreign  policy  was  still 
effectively  anti-appeasement  and  anti-Fascist,  much  more  so  than 
England's  or  France's  or  America's.  It  helped  China  with  arms  to 
fight  Japanese  aggression.  It  helped  Spain  with  arms  to  fight  the  Nazis 
and  Mussolini.  It  encouraged  Czechoslovakia  to  stand  firm  against 
Hitler.  I  did  not  know  how  long  it  would  last.  But  while  it  lasted, 
I  hesitated  to  throw  stones  in  public.  Even  now  I  think  I  was  right. 
In  private,  if  asked,  I  made  it  clear  that  I  had  cooled  toward  Soviet 
domestic  policy.  My  friends  can  confirm  that  and  so,  if  they  will, 
can  some  of  my  ex-friends. 

Divorce  may  be  a  sudden  rupture  or  a  gradual  estrangement.  My 
divorce  from  Russia  was  gradual.  It  has  caused  me  many  a  heartache 
nevertheless.  When  I  did  begin  criticizing  Russia,  I  was  chided  by 
certain  people,  including  a  great  lady  who  writes  a  syndicated  col- 
umn, for  nrtfthdelaviner  longer. 


THE  MOSCOW  TRIALS  AND  CONFESSIONS  531 

Some  persons  have  whispered  that  I  refrained  from  open  criticism 
of  Soviet  Russia  because  my  wife  and  two  boys  were  still  in  Moscow, 
and  I  feared  reprisals  against  them.  There  would  have  been  nothing 
reprehensible  in  such  restraint  on  my  part.  But  the  whisper  was  un- 
true. 


31.  Mr.  Lloyd  George 

E  America,  as  in  many  other  free  countries,  the  War  in  Spain 
ttracted  the  support  of  many  of  the  finest  men.  During  the 
,  ears  of  the  Spanish  struggle,  I  met  in  Paris  numerous  literary 
men  and  artists  who  were  about  to  go  down  into  Spain.  I  met  most 
of  them  again  in  Spain  and  most  of  them  when  they  came  back  up 
to  Paris.  The  list  of  these  people  is  a  roll  of  honor:  Lillian  Hellman, 
Richard  Watts,  Jr.,  Ernest  Hemingway,  Bennett  Cerf,  Vincent 
Sheean,  Diana  Sheean,  Meyer  Levin,  Ernst  Toller,  Erskine  Caldwell, 
Sylvia  Townsend  Warner,  Martha  Gellhorn,  Dorothy  Parker,  Alan 
Campbell,  Elliot  Paul,  Barbara  Wertheim,  Stephen  Spender,  Waldo 
Frank,  Erika  Mann,  Klaus  Mann,  Richard  Mowrer,  and  Jo  Davidson. 
There  were  more. 

Jo  Davidson  is  pure  American  and  yet  nearly  pure  French.  With 
his  beard,  he  is  die  image  of  Karl  Marx.  He  had  made  busts  of 
Gandhi,  Mussolini,  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  Rockefeller,  Foch,  Per- 
shing,  Litvinov,  Chicherin,  Walt  Whitman,  Shaw,  Wells,  Sinclair 
Lewis,  Radek,  Clemenceau,  Lloyd  George— the  list  is  endless.  He  can 
do  a  head  in  three  hours  if  necessary.  He  went  to  the  front  in  Spain 
and  did  Lister,  Campesino,  and  Modesto  in  almost  no  time.  The 
Loyalist  soldiers  who  watched  the  work  called  him  "Sculptomoton." 
He  also  made  busts  of  President  Azana,  del  Vayo,  Pasionaria,  and 
Constancia  de  la  Mora.  Negrin  would  not  sit  for  him.  (I  once  accom- 
panied Negrin  to  a  rest  home  of  the  International  Brigade.  I  suggested 
he  take  along  a  photographer.  He  said,  "I'd  rather  lose  the  war."  But 
some  of  the  men  had  cameras  and  whenever  they  asked  him  he  stood 
still  and  let  them  take  snapshots.)  In  New  York,  after  the  war, 
Negrin  did  sit  for  him.  Davidson  presented  the  Spanish  busts  to  the 
American  committee  which  was  collecting  money  for  the  Loyalists. 
He  also  collected  money  for  Spain  at  private  gatherings  in  the  United 
States. 

One  morning  in  July,  1938, 1  received  a  letter  in  Paris  from  Ellen 
Wilkinson,  Labor  M.P.,  asking  me  to  come  to  London  to  see  Mr. 
David  Lloyd  George.  Some  one  had  told  him  of  the  meeting  and 

532 


MR.  LLOYD  GEORGE  533 

dinner  I  had  addressed  in  the  House  of  Commons  in  April.  He  was 
inviting  me  to  lunch  at  his  farm  in  Churt. 

I  flew  over  to  London,  and  Ellen  Wilkinson  drove  me  down  in 
her  tiny  car.  My  concern  was  twofold:  to  keep  my  feet  from  going 
through  the  frail  floor  into  the  motor  and  to.  keep  the  windshield  dry, 
for  the  rain  descended  in  sheets.  I  had  met  Lloyd  George  in  Novem- 
ber, 1937,  but  as  we  approached  Churt  the  prospect  of  spending 
several  hours  with  him  excited  me  more  than  the  anticipation  of  any 
encounter  I  had  ever  had  with  a  statesman.  He  was  not  in  office,  had 
no  great  power,  but  a  page  of  world  history  would  always  belong 
to  him,  and  he  looked  the  part. 

At  Churt,  Lloyd  George  has  a  very  big  farm  which  is  tilled  under 
his  expert  direction.  On  the  piano  in  the  reception  room  stood  framed, 
autographed  portraits  of  the  famous  men  of  the  epoch.  We  waited 
a  minute  and  then  he  came  in  with  springy  step.  He  was  dressed  like 
a  young  man  in  bright  fashionable  clothes.  He  is  short  but  stately. 
His  face  is  ruddy  and  sheathed  in  smiles.  He  wears  pince  nez  from 
which  dangles  a  wide  black  ribbon.  His  long  silver  white  hair  falls 
straight  and  lustrous  to  his  collar.  An  electric  current  went  through 
the  air  as  he  entered  the  room, 

He  took  out  a  big  cigar,  bit  off  the  end,  spat  and  offered  me  one. 
I  said  I  didn't  smoke.  There  then  followed  the  colloquy  I  have  had 
ten  thousand  times  in  life,  but  Lloyd  George  gave  it  his  own  ending. 

"Have  some  sherry,"  he  said,  pouring  Ellen  a  glass.  I  told  him  I 
didn't  usually  drink. 

"No  vices,"  he  said. 

"No  visible  ones,"  I  said. 

"Well,  I  have  them  all,  visible  and  invisible,"  he  exclaimed  with  a 
rich  laugh,  "and  that's  why  I  feel  so  good  at  seventy-five." 

He  immediately  asked  about  Spain.  First  about  the  army.  He  put 
questions  on  the  soldiers,  on  the  officers,  on  rifles,  cannon,  machine 
guns,  airplanes,  everything  in  detail.  "What  kind  of  anti-tank  guns 
have  they?"  he  inquired.  I  replied  as  well  as  I  could. 

"When  I  was  Minister  of  Munitions  in  191 5,"  he  recounted,  "I 
could  get  no  money  from  the  government  for  the  anti-tank  gun. 
However,  an  Indian  maharajah  gave  me  a  million  pounds  to  develop 
and  manufacture  it,  and  when  it  proved  a  success  the  Treasury  allo- 
cated funds  for  further  production." 

Captain  Liddell  Hart  says  this  is  the  story  of  the  quick-firing 
trench  mortar.  But  I  am  sure  we  never  mentioned  trench  mortars. 


534      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Liddell  Hart's  facts  are  probably  correct,  however.  Lloyd  George's 
memory  must  have  taken  him  into  the  error. 

Lloyd  George  asked  about  the  Loyalist  officers  and  I  told  him 
that  they  presented  a  great  problem,  for  most  of  the  officers  of  the 
old  regular  army  had  gone  over  to  Franco  and  it  was  difficult  to 
create  an  officers'  corps  quickly. 

He  said,  "General  staffs  are  usually  reactionary.  They  are  built 
on  the  caste  system.  In  the  World  War,  our  generals  endeavored  to 
keep  down  all  high  officers  except  those  of  their  own  class.  The 
only  exception  was  Sir  William  Robertson,  who  was  the  son  of  a 
butler  and  who  rose  from  cavalry  sergeant-major  to  Chief  of  Staff. 
In  the  battle  of  Passchendaele  only  General  Monash  could  have  ex- 
tricated the  British  army.  But  Monash  was  a  Jew  and  the  staff  held 
him  at  arm's  length." 

After  each  one  of  my  answers  he  talked  about  his  own  experi- 
ences in  leading  Britain  during  the  first  World  War.  "But  you  must 
not  let  me  reminisce  in  this  manner.  It  is  the  way  of  an  old  man." 
I  encouraged  it. 

"In  Spain,"  he  declared,  "a  cl^ss  war  is  raging  and  the  upper  classes 
are  fighting  the  people.  I  have  been  in  the  same  fight  here  all  my 
life.  The  landed  aristocracy,  conservative  churchmen,  and  the  vested 
industrial  and  financial  interests  have  always  fought  me.  And  I 
them,"  he  chuckled. 

We  went  in  for  lunch  where  we  were  joined  by  Miss  Stevenson, 
Lloyd  George's  secretary.  First  he  discussed  farming,  and  he  told 
us  how  much  of  the  food  we  ate  he  raised  himself.  Then  he  recalled 
his  meetings  with  Woodrow  Wilson.  I  think  he  did  not  like  Wil- 
son. Later  he  mentioned  a  visit  to  Churt  by  Mahatma  Gandhi.  "All 
the  maids  came  in  to  shake  his  hands,"  Lloyd  George  said.  "As 
Gandhi  sat  on  the  couch  with  his  legs  under  him,  a  black  cat  which 
we  had  never  seen  before  came  in  through  that  window  and  sat  in 
his  lap.  When  he  went  it  disappeared.  Some  weeks  later  Miss  Slade, 
Gandhi's  secretary,  visited  us  and  the  same  black  cat  returned  and 
then  disappeared." 

He  took  an  interest  in  Soviet  Ambassador  Maisky  who,  at  the 
time,  was  on  vacation  in  Russia;  he  hoped  Maisky  would  not  be 
arrested  there.  He  had  high  praise  for  Pablo  Azcarate,  the  Loyalist 
Ambassador  in  London. 

Lloyd  George  said  he  would  wish  to  visit  Loyalist  Spain.  He  was 
going  by  car  to  the  French  Riviera  soon  and  might  connect  the  two 


MR.  LLOYD  GEORGE  535 

trips.  I  explained  that  he  could  enter  Spain  on  a  morning,  go  to 
Barcelona  by  auto  in  three  hours,  and  leave  Spain  again  die  same 
evening.  His  visit  would  mean  a  lot  to  the  Spaniards.  It  would  buoy 
them  up.  "But,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  would  go  to  the  front.  I  would 
stay  more  than  a  day";  and  he  reminisced  on  his  front  experiences  in 
the  World  War. 

Miss  Stevenson  told  me  that  was  the  trouble.  If  he  went  he  would 
stay  too  long  and  place  himself  in  danger.  His  daughter,  Megan, 
and  son,  Gwilym,  she  said,  therefore  objected  to  his  going,  I  turned 
to  Lloyd  George  and  said,  "Miss  Stevenson  and  I  have  just  decided 
that  Negrin  will  arrest  you  after  twenty-four  hours  in  Spain  and 
deport  you."  He  laughed  uproariously.  He  inquired  about  Negrin. 
"The  Continent,  at  last,"  he  declared,  "has  produced  a  fighting  dem- 
ocratic statesman.  How  old  is  he?" 

"Forty-five,"  I  replied. 

He  made  a  calculation  by  visibly  turning  his  eyes  up  and  back- 
ward into  his  memory,  and  said,  "I  was  Prime  Minister  at  fifty-four. 
It  is  a  good  age." 

"Negrin  is  the  only  big  man  who  has  emerged  from  the  Spanish 
War,"  I  commented  a  moment  later. 

"Sometimes,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "it  is  better  when  there  is  only 
one.  I  had  much  trouble  with  the  others." 

On  the  way  back  from  the  dining  room  to  the  parlor  we  passed 
a  large  enlargement  of  a  snapshot  taken  at  the  French  front  in  1916, 
showing  Lloyd  George,  General  Haig,  the  French  General  Joffre, 
and  French  Minister  Albert  Thomas.  Lloyd  George  paused  to  let  us 
look  at  it.  I  said,  "They  seem  to  be  trying  to  sell  you  something." 
On  the  picture,  Lloyd  George  wore  a  skeptical  amused  look. 

He  apparently  did  not  understand  the  connotation  of  "sell."  "No," 
he  replied,  "they  were  trying  to  convince  me  that  in  a  few  days 
they  would  throw  in  the  French  cavalry,  smash  the  German  lines, 
and  drive  the  Germans  out  of  France.  Haig  agreed  with  them  and 
looked  for  victory  in  1916. 1  did  not."  He  pointed  to  Haig's  highly 
polished  boots.  "Haig  was  brilliant,"  Lloyd  George  remarked,  "down 

here." 

It  had  stopped  raining  and  we  went  out  to  see  the  view.  One 
could  see  far  in  the  direction  of  London.  He  drew  in  a  deep  breath 
and  sighed  and  said,  "It  is  beautiful  here.  I  hate  going  down  to  Lon- 
don and  I  do  so  only  when  there  is  a  debate  on  Spain  in  the  House." 
He  was  spending  much  rime  reading  last  proofs  of  his  latest  book 


536      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

of  World  War  memoirs.  He  figured  out  the  number  of  words  he 
had  to  read.  He  was  pleased  that  an  earlier  volume  had  sold  so  well. 
He  turned  to  Ellen  Wilkinson  and  instructed  her  to  call  on  him 
without  hesitation  whenever  he  could  do  something  for  the  Spanish 
Republicans.  "Nothing  is  more  important  for  Great  Britain,"  he 
stated  firmly. 

In  the  house  again  he  showed  us  several  score  of  gold  and  silver 
cases  elaborately  shaped  and  adorned  which  had  been  presented  to 
him  by  British  cities  in  recognition  of  his  war  efforts.  Some  took  the 
form  of  celebrated  municipal  buildings  and  churches.  He  said,  "Not 
one  of  them  is  for  my  work  in  peacetime."  He  mentioned  his  con- 
tributions to  social  reform.  "I  have  been  honored  only  for  killing 
my  fellow-men.  Here,"  he  pointed,  "is  the  war  case  from  the  city 
of  Birmingham.  It  was  given  to  me  in  the  same  hall  where  in  my 
early  years  they  shouted  me  down  and  threatened  me  with  violence 
for  voicing  humanitarian  impulses." 

In.  another  room,  he  stopped  in  front  of  a  painting  of  a  North 
African  town.  "That  was  painted  by  Winston,"  he  said.  Lloyd 
George  and  Churchill  had  gone  on  a  vacation  together.  The  paint- 
ing was  very  good  and  sensitive.  Lloyd  George  talked  about 
Churchill.  He  displayed  a  deep  affection  for  him.  "Winston  also 
plays  the  violin,"  Lloyd  George  said.  "Few  men  in  England  write 
or  speak  as  well  as  he  does."  Turning  to  Ellen,  he  asked,  "Why  do 
we  keep  him  down?"  She  suggested  that  British  people  do  not  ordi- 
narily trust  brilliance. 

Conversation  drifted  to  Harry  Pollitt,  the  leader  of  the  British 
Communist  party.  "The  Communists,"  Lloyd  George  volunteered, 
"are  the  Liberals  of  the  twentieth  century  in  that  they  have  inher- 
ited our  former  capacity  for  indignation." 

He  asked  us  to  sign  his  visitors'  book,  first  showing  us  some  of 
the  interesting  names.  He  bent  over  and  watched  as  I  wrote  my 
name,  and  said,  "Wait.  Write— Louis  Fischer,  Barcelona."  The  idea 
of  having  a  signature  from  Barcelona  delighted  him.  He  was  young 
despite  his  age. 

He  stood  on  the  porch  as  Ellen  went  through  the  long  process 
of  warming  up  the  car.  Then  he  waved  good-by.  He  looked  a  color- 
ful, excitingly  magnetic,  and  beautiful  personality.  It  was  a  stimu- 
lating experience  to  have  met  him. 

Churchill  is  the  political  descendant  of  David  Lloyd  George.  Both 
are  dynamic  and  talented  British  imperialists  yet  they  are  moved 


MR.  LLOYD  GEORGE  537 

by  a  passion  for  freedom.  They  are  isolated  fruit  on  an  old  tree. 
The  late  Chamberlain,  the  late  Lord  Lothian,  Halifax,  Sir  Nevile 
Henderson,  Sir  John  Simon,  Hoare,  and  others  of  the  same  crop 
seem  to  be  made  of  very  inferior  stuff  when  set  beside  Churchill  and 
Lloyd  George.  But  another  tree  is  growing  in  England  which  is  not 
upper  class  and  which  may  yield  a  new,  hardy  fruit. 

Lenin  wrote,  "Mr.  Lloyd  George  is  not  only  a  very  wise  man 
but  one  who  has  learned  much  from  the  Marxists,  It  would  not  hurt 
us  to  learn  something  from  him." 

I  remained  in  London  until  July  12  when  I  addressed  a  meeting 
in  the  House  of  Commons  attended  by  seventy-two  members  of 
Parliament  from  all  parties.  The  next  morning  I  took  the  train  to 
Paris. 

That  same  month,  a  Congress  for  Peace  and  Freedom  met  in 
Paris.  It  illustrated  the  widespread  support  which  the  pro-Loyalist 
movement. had  found  throughout  the  world;  it  also  illustrated  the 
disunity  of  the  Left.  Robert,  Lord  Cecil,  presided  at  most  of  the 
sessions.  He  reminded  the  French  of  the  recent  visit  of  the  British 
royal  sovereigns  to  France  and  thanked  them  for  the  warm  welcome 
which  France  had  accorded  the  monarchs.  The  French  delegates 
knew  that  Daladier  had  wanted  the  royal  visit  to  strengthen  his  hand 
and  that,  as  part  of  the  quid  pro  quo,  London  had  demanded  the 
closing  of  the  French  frontier  with  Loyalist  Spain.  The  French  com- 
plied. 

After  Cecil,  Jawaharlal  Nehru,  Indian  Nationalist  leader,  rose  to 
speak.  "I  come  not  to  speak  in  the  names  of  kings  and  princes,"  he 
began,  "but  on  behalf  of  several  hundred  million  downtrodden  In- 
dians." The  Hindu  revolutionist  was  answering  the  British  lord. 

England  sent  the  Duchess  of  Atholl,  Philip  Noel-Baker,  Wilfrid 
Roberts,  George  Russell  Strauss,  Ellen  Wilkinson,  and  other  M.P.'s. 
Only  one  important  representative  came  from  the  United  States, 
Bishop  Oldham  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  church.  Spain's  delega- 
tion included:  Pasionaria,  Martinez  Barrio,  the  President  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  Madame  Luisy  del  Vayo, 

The  presidium  had  decided  against  an  address  by  Pasionaria.  She 
was  the  best  orator  there,  a  chip  of  Spain,  symbol  of  the  womanhood 
of  suffering  Spain,  but  a  Communist  leader.  The  delegates  demanded 
Pasionaria.  No,  said  the  chairman,  Pierre  Cot.  Interruptions,  ova- 
tions, obstructions.  Loud  cries  for  Pasionaria.  Cot  adjourned  the 


538      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

meeting.  Little  Ellen  Wilkinson  was  hoisted  on  the  platform  to  re- 
open the  meeting  unofficially  and  give  Pasionaria  the  floor.  Two 
attendants  took  her  under  the  arms  and  carried  her  behind  the  stage. 
Then  Nehru  walked  on.  Nobody  would  dare  touch  him.  He  was  ori- 
ental dignity  itself,  olive-skin  face,  dream  eyes,  thin  gray  hair.  But 
he  was  angry.  Cecil  wished  to  demonstrate  that  the  Communists  did 
not  dominate  the  peace  movement.  Nehru  wished  to  assert  the  right 
of  free  speech  for  Communists  fighting  Fascism.  An  attendant  dis- 
connected the  loudspeaker  and  another  extinguished  the  lights. 

At  the  next  session,  Martinez  Barrio  announced  that  the  Spanish 
delegation  would  not  insist  on  making  a  special  statement  of  its 
views,  and  instead,  Madame  del  Vayo,  white  and  shaking— it  was  her 
first  public  performance— read  a  Jong  resolution  drafted  by  the  Loy- 
alist representatives.  Pasionaria  ;had  stepped  down  and  the  Com- 
munists had  agreed  upon  conciliation.  But  under  the  oil  the  sea 
seethed. 

Nehru  is  not  a  Communist  but  in  my  many  years  in  Russia  and 
Europe  I  have  rarely  seen  a  truer  revolutionist.  Privilege  plagues 
his  big  country,  the  privilege  of  caste,  raj,  prince,  and  rich  man. 
He  struggles  against  it.  He  went  to  Spain  and  promised  the  Loyal- 
ists help.  India  sent  help.  I  suggested  to  him  once  that  a  letter  from 
Gandhi  to  the  Spanish  government  would  be  good  propaganda. 
Gandhi  sent  the  letter  to  Negrin. 

I  think  certain  southern  races  take  a  more  tolerant  view  of  cor- 
ruption and  venality  than  northern  puritans  be  they  Christian,  Jew- 
ish, or  Bolshevik.  In  like  manner,  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that 
Hindus  are  more  honest  than  westerners,  more  self-critical  and  hon- 
est with  themselves,  more  selfless.  Nehru  writes  a  pamphlet  and 
says  he  has  not  been  radical  enough,  he  has  made  mistakes,  he  must 
retire  from  politics  for  a  while,  think  things  over,  get  straight  with 
himself.  He  does  it.  It  would  be  funny  if  a  Bonnet  or  Flandin  or 
Sir  Samuel  Hoare  behaved  that  way. 

Georges  Bonnet,  Foreign  Minister  of  France,  gave  a  lunch  to 
several  of  the  people  attending  the  peace  congress  as  delegates  or 
journalists.  About  fifteen  persons  were  present,  among  them  Lord 
Cecil,  Pierre  Cot,  Walter  Lippmann,  Theodore  Dreiser,  Edgar  Ansel 
Mowrer  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  Alexander  Werth,  Paris  cor- 
respondent of  the  Manchester  Guardian,  Pierre  de  Lanux,  French 
lecturer  in  the  United  States,  and  Bishop  G.  Ashton  Oldham.  After 


MR.  LLOYD  GEORGE  539 

food  and  wine  had  been  consumed  in  heavy  volume,  Bonnet  said 
he  would  answer  questions  "off  the  record." 

Theodore  Dreiser  go?  in  his  question  first.  "Mr.  Minister,"  he 
began  in  a  big  booming  midwestern  drawl,  "I  have  a  question.  Would 
you  say  that  France  is  a  democracy?"  Bonnet  would  much  rather 
have  been  asked  about  a  secret  treaty  or  whether  he  got  bribes. 

"Eh,  ah,  s&rement"  Bonnet  muttered,  "of  course,  eh,  ha,  ha." 

"Mr.  Minister,"  Dreiser  kept  on,  and  the  answer  obviously  did 
not  matter  to  him,  "would  you  say*  that  America  is  a  democracy 
and  could  you  prove  it  in  a  court  of  law?" 

General  laughter  made  a  reply  unnecessary.  Dreiser  now  subsided 
into  a  heavy  silence,  while  Werth  and  Edgar,  champion  appease- 
ment-haters, got  after  Bonnet.  Mowrer  made  this  point:  France  was 
not  helping  the  democracies  in  Spain  and  Czechoslovakia.  There  was 
strong  sentiment  in  America  for  both  countries.  The  fall  of  those 
two  countries  would  reinforce  American  isolationism,  and  then, 
perhaps,  when  France  needed  help  the  United  States  would  adopt 
the  same  attitude  as  Mr.  Bonnet  now  does  towards  European  vic- 
tims of  Fascist  attacks  and  threats. 

Bonnet  replied  that  he  was  for  peace.  (But  everyone  is  for  peace. 
Every  scoundrel  is.  Hitler  is.)  The  United  States  talked,  he  said 
politely,  but  did  nothing.  He  cited  the  recent  Brussels  conference 
on  the  Far  East  as  an  example.  Washington  wanted  the  powers  to 
assume  a  firm  attitude  towards  Japan.  "But  we  say  to  your  State 
Department,"  Monsieur  Bonnet  said,  "  "Will  you  help  us  if  we  get 
in  trouble  with  Japan?  Will  you  help  us  if  Japan  seizes  the  island 
of  Hainan?'  Your  State  Department  says,  'No,  pardon  me.'"  Then 
he  spun  beautiful  phrases  about  his  eternal  admiration  and  friendship 
for  the  "great  American  people."  Sadly  enough,  the  minister  won 
that  little  bout.  America  did  not  yet  practice  the  policy  of  collective 
security  by  aiding  countries  which  resisted  Fascist  aggression.  I 
remarked,  "You  could  win  America  for  collective  security  by  prac- 
ticing it  yourself." 

"We  try,  we  try,"  Bonnet  said.  "It  is  tres  difficile,  n'est-ce  pas? 

Ha,  ha." 


32.  Ebro:  River  of  Blood 

FOR  the  Spanish  heart,  or  for  the  pro-Spanish  heart,  there  was 
not  much  balm  in  London  or  Paris.  But  on  the  Ebro  River 
which  marks  off  Catalonia  from  the  rest  of  Spain,  the  Loyalist 
army  had  struck  hard  at  Franco.  If  the  Republicans  held  firm  for  a 
while  longer  perhaps  the  world  would  open  its  eyes  and  see  the 
danger  that  lurked  for  Europe  in  a  Fascist  victory  over  Iberia.  On 
this  hope,  all  Loyalist  resistance  was  predicated;  alone,  the  Republic 
c6iild  never  win.  Would  the  blood  of  Spain  wash  away  the  blindness 
of  the  West? 

At  two  o'clock,  early  on  the  morning  of  July  25— while  Bonnet 
slept  and  the  Paris  Peace  Congress  rested  from  its  talk— Spanish  gov- 
ernment units  started  crossing  the  Ebro  in  the  face  of  an  entrenched 
enemy.  For  two  months  everything  had  been  meticulously  prepared. 
During  the  night,  two  pontoon  bridges  were  silently  slung  above 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  rushing  river.  The  first  soldiers  ran 
over  them  at  full  gallop.  They  met  opposition.  Soldiers  waiting  on 
the  Loyalist  side  listened  to  the  firing  but  were  unable  to  cross  be- 
cause of  the  heavy  traffic  on  the  narrow  bridges.  They  listened  and 
could  not  stand  it.  A  large  number  of  men,  especially  Americans 
in  the  International  Brigade,  waded  in.  They  propelled  themselves 
forward  along  the  pontoons  and  in  places  swam  with  their  thickly- 
oiled  rifles  above  their  necks. 

The  Loyalist  bank  was  low,  the  rebel  shore  steep  and  protected 
by  sand  bags  and  barbed  wire.  But  normally  the  Spanish  War 
was  a  trade-union  war.  The  armies  took  two  hours  off  for  lunch, 
quit  at  five  P.M.  and  slept  tightly  all  night.  If  you  attacked  during 
off-hours,  you  won  the  initial  advantage  of  surprise. 

The  Loyalists  attacked  with  so  much  passion  that  the  rebels 
quickly  abandoned  their  positions  and  surrendered  or  fled.  The  offi- 
cial Franco  bulletin  charged  that  the  military  feat  was  not  as  great 
as  it  sounded  because  disloyal  peasants— disloyal  to  Franco— helped 
to  dislodge  the  Fascist  forces.  Stupid  of  Franco  to  admit  this. 

It  was  a  considerable  victory  and  aroused  great  enthusiasm  among 

540 


EBRO:  RIVER  OF  BLOOD  541 

the  Republicans.  In  six  days  the  offensive  reached  its  maximum  ex- 
pansion with  the  occupation  of  250  square  miles  of  territory.  In 
those  six  days,  the  Loyalists  lost  only  66  dead  and  4,965  wounded, 
most  of  them  light  cases.  The  Loyalists,  on  the  other  hand,  took 
5,000  prisoners  and  inflicted  6,000  casualties  on  the  enemy. 

Then  the  Fascist  aviation  arrived  in  force.  When  I  saw  Prime 
Minister  Negrin  in  Barcelona  in  the  first  week  of  August,  he  told 
me  the  government  had  fewer  than  400  airplanes,  most  of  them 
much-used.  Franco  had  500  Italian  airplanes  and  300  German,  Ne- 
grin estimated.  Franco  concentrated  this  gigantic  armada  on  the 
narrow  Ebro  front.  After  the  initial  surprise,  he  wheeled  his  artillery 
into  position.  He  vowed  to  retake  the  lost  Ebro  ground. 

On  August  7,  I  went  to  the  Ebro  front  in  a  conspicuously  new 
Ford  auto  belonging  to  Joe  North  of  New  Masses.  With  us  were  a 
French  writer  and  a  British  journalist.  We  reached  the  river  at  mid- 
night and  waited  our  turn  to  cross.  Tanks  and  trucks  had  dug  deep 
ruts  in  the  road.  Bombs  from  Fascist  airplanes  made  deep  craters  in 
it.  The  ruts  and  craters  multiplied  as  we  approached  the  river  bank. 
Men  in  shorts  repaired  the  road  during  the  night.  Feverish  work 
also  proceeded  at  the  water  edge  where  the  bridge  ended.  The  Loy- 
alists had  built  three  bridges  across  the  Ebro,  two  on  pontoons,  one 
on  trestles.  They  also  had  put  up  a  sham  bridge  which  looked  like 
a  bridge  from  above  but  wasn't.  The  Fascist  bombers  wasted  their 
ammunition  trying  to  hit  it.  They  dropped  tons  of  bombs  on  the 
river  in  an  effort  to  destroy  the  bridges.  The  river  bank  and  the 
river  beaches  were  pocked  with  deep  bomb  holes  which  sometimes 
filled  with  water.  The  engineers  labored  up  to  the  waist  in  the  river 
fastening  new  tow-ropes  and  replacing  broken  pontoons.  The  work 
proceeded  in  complete  darkness  lest  a  light  attract  hostile  bombers. 

Finally,  our  Ford  rattled  on  to  the  bridge.  The  chauffeur  told  us 
to  watch  through  the  windows  on  either  side.  There  were  not  more 
than  three  inches  between  the  tires  and  the  edges  of  the  bridge.  The 
bridge  consisted  of  isolated,  loosely  fastened  planks  like  the  metal 
strips  of  a  xylophone,  and  as  the  car  rolled  forward  it  struck  a  note 
on  each  plank,  the  same  note  again  and  again  and  again  until,  steer- 
ing clear  of  craters,  and  with  a  helping  push  from  a  few  strong  arms, 
it  climbed  up  on  the  opposite  bank. 

We  took  the  road  to  Corbera,  a  town  at  the  front.  The  night  was 
black  and  quiet.  Occasionally,  we  veered  around  a  truck  covered 
with  huge  tarpaulin— probably  a  gun  going  up  to  the  line.  After  a 


542      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

few  miles,  the  road  became  more  populated  with  vehicles  and  men. 
New  battalions  were  moving  to  the  front.  The  men  walked  without 
much  order.  Officers  shouted  "Keep  together."  The  sand  on  the  hard 
road  crunched  under  their  feet.  Each  time  our  driver  flashed  on  a 
dim  light  to  avoid  hitting  someone,  the  soldiers  yelled,  "Epagar  la 
luz"  They  did  not  want  to  be  discovered  by  bombers  that  might 
be  hovering  above  for  just  such  prey.  Nearer  the  front,  we  encoun- 
tered tired  men  coming  out  of  the  line.  The  road  became  thick  with 
soldiers  and  trucks.  We  heard  foreign  languages  too.  We  stopped 
the  car,  called  a  soldier,  gave  him  a  cigarette,  and  said,  "American?" 
No,  he  was  a  Greek,  had  enlisted  in  Athens,  but  the  Americans  were 
right  behind.  They  were  coming  out  of  the  line  too  tonight,  being 
relieved  by  a  Spanish  brigade. 

Soon  w;e  heard  New  Yorkese  and  Chicagoese  in  the  Spanish  black- 
out. We  picked  up  Milt  Wolf,  the  captain  of  the  Americans.  His 
men  had  been  in  battle  since  the  first  day  of  the  offensive.  Thirteen 
days  of  constant  combat  without  undressing,  without  bathing,  sleep- 
ing on  rocks  and  hard  ground  under  an  unending  rain  of  shells!  Milt 
asked  us  to  look  him  up  later  that  morning.  He  said  the  Americans 
would  be  held  in  reserve  somewhere  in  an  olive  grove  further  down 
the  road. 

We  drove  on.  Spanish  units  were  moving  into  the  line;  others 
were  coming  out.  As  we  proceeded,  the  thud  of  cannon  shells  be- 
came more  pronounced.  Each  thud  answered  itself— thud,  thud. 
Pause.  Then  a  deeper  thud-thud;  Franco's  guns  were  replying.  And 
always  the  crunch  of  boots  on  the  hard  road.  Trucks  and  speeding 
cars  threw  up  clouds  of  dust.  I  felt  the  grit  far  down  in  my  throat. 
Suddenly  I  heard  a  baby  crying.  A  baby  in  the  war?  We  were  at  a 
crossroads  where  the  highway  forked  to  Corbera  and  Flix.  I  got 
out  of  the  car.  A  tall,  thin  Spanish  woman  stood  against  a  post  hold- 
ing a  child  of  about  two.  Near  by,  a  boy  of  four  or  five  sat  on  a 
milestone. 

She  had  left  Barcelona  in  1937  and  gone  to  the  Corbera  region 
where  her  family  lived  in  a  village.  She  would  eat  better  there.  Her 
husband  was  in  the  Loyalist  army.  She  had  been  caught  by  the 
fighting  and  she  wanted  to  get  a  lift  to  Barcelona.  Couldn't  I  help? 
We  were  going  the  other  way.  I  went  back  to  the  car  to  fetch  a  jar 
of  hard  candy  which  I  had  brought  in  from  Paris  to  tide  over  hungry 
hours  between  meals.  She  wanted  no  candy.  She  wanted  to  get  into 
a  truck  and  go  home  to  Barcelona.  Because  the  little  boy  saw  his 


mother  refuse  the  candy  he  would  take  none.  He  relented  when  I 
put  one  into  my  mouth.  I  talked  to  the  soldier  who  regulated  traffic 
in  the  darkness  at  the  crossroads.  He  said  he  was  looking  out  for  the 
family  and  would  try  to  find  place  for  them  in  a  lorry. 

It  was  now  about  two-thirty  in  the  morning  and  we  were  all 
pretty  tired.  The  driver  decided  to  find  the  Anglo-American  cook- 
house. It  was  located  on  a  side  lane.  A  sentry  recognized  our  driver 
and  Joe  North,  and  brought  out  some  blankets.  Joe  North,  the 
Frenchman,  and  the  Englishman  lay  down  on  the  ground  to  sleep. 
The  driver  slept  at  his  wheel— that  was  instructions.  I  slept  in  the 
back  seat  of  the  car. 

I  awoke  several  hours  later  when  day  broke.  A  Franco  recon- 
naissance plane  circled  high  overhead.  A  bird  sang  in  a  near-by  tree. 
A  tall  Spanish  cook  killed  a  lamb  and  drained  the  blood,  into  a  big 
pan.  I  washed  my  teeth  with  some  coffee  and  my  face  with  oily 
water. 

Men  started  to  appear.  They  had  slept  in  personal  air-raid  shelters 
hollowed  out  in  the  brown  earthen  bank  overlooking  the  road.  They 
put  on  their  shoes  and  were  dressed.  The  cookhouse  had  been 
bombed  the  week  before  and  three  men  killed. 

Our  Frenchman  wished  to  find  Modesto,  the  officer  in  command 
of  the  whole  Loyalist  army  on  the  Ebro.  But  Joe  North  preferred 
to  talk  to  the  Americans  and  get  material  for  a  cable  to  the  New 
York  Daily  Worker.  They  had  argued  far  into  the  night  about  this, 
and  now  they  resumed, the  argument.  I  hoped  we  would  do  both. 
I  suggested  we  locate  Modesto  first. 

We  found  him  at  breakfast  in  staff  headquarters  in  a  yellow  house 
which  stood  alone  on  a  hill.  He  ordered  out  more  ham  and  sherry- 
all  captured  from  Franco's  retreating  hosts.  We  had  a  tremendous 
meal  and  more  than  an  hour  of  talk,  Modesto  loved  to  talk  and  curse. 
He  was  a  handsome,  jovial  little  fellow  in  his  thirties,  a  woodworker 
who  had  been  a  corporal  in  Spain's  pre-war  Foreign  Legion  of 
toughs.  Now  he  belonged  to  the  Communist  party;  he  knew  a  few 
words  of  Russian.  At  the  table  sat  Maximov  and  two  Soviet  aides. 
Maximov  was  a  general  in  the  Russian  Red  Army  and  had  succeeded 
Grigorovitch  as  highest  Soviet  military  adviser  in  Loyalist  Spain.  We 
discussed  politics  over  the  meal  and  when  it  was  over  he  told  me 
about  the  war  situation.  I  asked  whether  the  Republican  victory  on 
the  Ebro  could  be  regarded  as  significant  by  purely  military  stand- 
ards. "Decidedly,"  he  said.  To  cross  such  a  river  and  to  hold  a  newly 


544      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

seized  bridgehead  on  the  other  side  against  overwhelming  odds  in 
the  air  was  a  real  achievement.  Loyalist  supplies  all  came  from  across 
the  Ebro  and  that  complicated  the  conduct  of  the  operation.  The 
real  heroes  were  the  engineers  who  maintained  the  bridges  intact. 
Several  times,  he  told  me,  the  bridges  had  been  destroyed.  The  engi- 
neers had  a  pact:  the  moment  a  bridge  was  hit,  whether  it  was  day 
or  night,  whether  the  raid  had  ended  or  not,  they  immediately 
started  rebuilding  it,  for  if  the  Republican  army  in  the  newly  con- 
quered zone  were  cut  off  for  even  a  day  its  very  existence  might  be 
jeopardized.  Maximov  said  the  Loyalists  were  short  of  cannon  and 
anti-aircraft  guns.  But  the  soldiers  had  learned  to  lie  still  under 
bombs.  They  were  becoming  excellent  fighters.  Bombs  rarely  killed, 
he  explained.  Their  worst  effect  is  on  the  nerves. 

I  asked  him  whether  the  Loyalists  could  hold  the  new  territory  on 
the  Ebro.  He  replied,  "No  military  man  would  answer  such  a  ques- 
tion. It  all  depends  on  how  much  Franco  is  ready  to  pay  to  get  it 
back  and  how  much  we  are  ready  to  pay  to  keep  it." 

He  added  that  Franco's  artillery  fire  was  sometimes  as  heavy  as 
in  major  World  War  battles.  Apparently,  Franco  feared  the  effect 
which  an  unretrieved  defeat  might  have  on  his  civilian  and  army 
morale  and  on  the  attitude  of  the  Western  Powers.  If  his  chances  of 
victory  became  dimmed,  the  appeasers  in  London  and  Paris  would 
lose  influence  and  the  Left  would  gain  influence.  To  encourage  the 
appeasers  Hitler  and  Mussolini  threw  more  arms  to  Franco. 

It  was  August,  1938,  a  month  before  Munich,  a  month  before 
the  vivisection  of  Czechoslovakia.  A  setback  for  Fascism  on  the 
Ebro  would  inspire  resistance  to  Fascism  elsewhere.  Fascism  always 
made  capital  out  of  its  invincibility.  No  use  trying  to  stop  us;  we 
are  the  future,  Hitler  and  Mussolini  asserted,  Better  to  come  to  an 
understanding  with  us,  they  told  Chamberlain  and  Daladier.  We 
always  win.  It  is  fate.  It  is  our  strength.  Give  us  what  we  ask  or 
else  .  .  . 

The  crunch  of  bombs,  the  thud  of  shells,  and  the  blood  that  ran 
into  the  Ebro  made  policy  on  the  Thames  and  the  Seine,  on  the  Spree 
and  the  Moldau,  perhaps  even  on  the  Potomac. 

Loyalist  victories  reinforced  the  political  position  of  English- 
men and  Frenchmen  who  wanted  the  Loyalists  to  gain  victories. 
Often  as  I  listened  to  Questions  and  debates  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons it  seemed  to  me  as  though  some  Conservatives  took  a  mis- 
chievous delight  in  the  sinking  of  British  ships  in  Spanish  waters. 


EBRO:  RIVER  OF  BLOOD  545 

For  the  Liberals  and  Laborites  protested  such  sinkings  and  tried  to 
prod  the  unwilling  Chamberlain  into  demanding  compensation  or 
taking  steps  for  safety  on  the  seas.  Anything  that  discomfited  the 
Opposition  or  demonstrated  its  impotence  gave  pleasure  to  many 
supporters  of  Neville  Chamberlain.  They  were  on  Franco's  side  be- 
cause their  political  opponents  in  England  were  on  Negrin's  side. 
They  were  pro-Franco  for  other  reasons  too.  But  Franco  gains  and 
Loyalist  defeats  were  sticks  with  which  to  beat  the  anti-Fascists  of 
Britain. 

The  issue  of  Spain  divided  England.  It  divided  France.  The  fear 
of  a  Left  triumph  in  Spain  made  many  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen 
more  pro-Hitler  and  more  pro-Mussolini.  Spain  split  the  democra- 
cies. Democratic  disunity  was  one  of  the  goals  of  Italo-German  in- 
tervention in  Spain.  Weren't  Hitler  and  Mussolini  fighting  Com- 
munism and  Russia  in  Spain?  Wasn't  that  a  worthy  aim?  Shouldn't 
anti-Communists  everywhere  help?  Shouldn't  anti-Communists  sup- 
port Hitler  and  Mussolini  in  other  things  too?  The  appeasers  fell 
for  this  bunk.  Then  Hitler  thumbed  his  nose  at  them  by  signing  a 
pact  with  Communism  and  Russia. 

The  Ebro  was  the  Marne  of  peace. 

We  went  from  Modesto's  headquarters  to  seek  the  Americans. 
Modesto  had  told  us  it  was  a  quiet  day  in  the  air.  But  we  had  to 
get  out  several  times  and  lie  on  the  ground  while  rebel  planes  hov- 
ered overhead.  We  found  the  Americans  in  an  olive  grove.  Many 
were  still  asleep.  They  slept  in  their  clothes,  and  the  sun  was  now 
high,  and  when  they  got  up  there  was  nothing  to  eat  or  drink,  not 
even  water,  and  one  could  see  them  massaging  the  insides  of  their 
mouths  with  their  tongues.  I  distributed  American  cigarettes.  I  al- 
ways brought  in  a  few  cartons  from  France. 

These  men  had  been  in  the  front  line  for  a  fortnight.  One  would 
expect  them  to  talk  first  of  all  about  women  and  what  they  would 
do  if  they  could  get  to  Barcelona.  "Tell  us  about  Czechoslovakia," 
was  their  greeting  to  me.  They  asked  Joe  North  about  strikes  in 
America.  They  were  tired,  and  everyone  of  them  yearned  to  re- 
turn to  America,  But  they  knew  they  would  be  back  in  the  front 
in  a  few  days.  This  was  only  a  brief  respite.  While  we  sat  on  the 
ground  and  talked,  airplanes  came  over.  The  men  lay  down  on  their 
backs  and  watched.  Others  started  digging  in.  They  told  us  about 
men  who  had  been  killed  and  wounded.  They  talked  about  Jim 
Lardner. 


546      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

I  had  met  Jim  Lardner  in  Paris.  He  was  the  twenty-three-year- 
old  son  of  Ring  Lardner.  He  worked  for  the  Herald  Tribune.  He 
went  to  Barcelona  to  report  on  the  war.  It  gripped  him  as  it  did 
everybody.  I  watched  him  sitting  in  the  lobby  of  the  Hotel  Majes- 
tic. For  days  he  sat  and  didn't  talk.  Then  friends  and  journalistic 
colleagues  started  talking  to  him.  For  he  had  decided  to  join  the 
International  Brigade.  Most  persons  tried  to  dissuade  him.  Even  sol- 
diers of  the  Brigade  told  him  to  write  about  them  instead  of  shooting 
with  them.  He  listened.  Then  he  went  around  the  corner  and  en- 
listed. He  was  wounded  in  battle,  lay  in  the  hospital,  recuperated, 
and  returned  to  the  front.  There  he  was  killed.  He  was  the  essence 
of  America.  He  looked,  thought,  and  wrote  American.  The  pres- 
ence of  Americans  in  the  Loyalist  army  stirred  the  American  in 
him;  they  were  fighting  for  bleeding,  wounded  Spain.  They  were 
also  fighting  for  the  United  States.  America  was  paying  back  Europe 
for  the  Lafayettes,  the  von  Steubens,  the  Kosciuskos.  He  paid  an 
American  debt.  Spain  owes  him  a  debt.  America  owes  him  a  debt. 

I  sat  under  an  olive  tree  and  listened  to  Alvah  Bessie.  I  had  known 
him  in  New  York  where  he  worked  on  the  Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 
He  had  been  in  the  Ebro  offensive  from  the  beginning,  and  kept  a 
diary.  He  read  us  some  pages.  They  later  served  as  material  for  his 
book  on  the  Spanish  War,  Men  m  "Battle. 

The  sun  waxed  hot.  Men  stripped  and  searched  for  lice  in  the 
seams  of  their  clothes.  A  Spanish  barber  made  his  appearance  and 
started  cutting  hair.  Johnny  Gates,  chief  commissar,  promised  water 
soon,  and  even  food.  Some  fellows  were  writing  letters  home.  Others 
daydreamed  and  did  nothing:  life-long  friends  from  Boston  or  Los 
Angeles  had  been  killed  at  their  sides.  "He  might  have  been  here  if 
that  damned  Fascist  had  aimed  different,"  one  said  to  me  when  I 
crouched  and  asked  what  he  was  thinking  about.  "Or  I  might  be 
dead,"  he  added  with  a  philosophical  and  satisfied  wave  of  the  head. 

Human  beings  grow  accustomed  to  death  if  they  see  enough  of  it. 
The  peasant  dreads  death  less  than  the  cultured  urbanite  because  he 
encounters  it  oftener  in  the  animal  world.  The  more  primitive  the 
man  the  less  his  fear  of  death.  The  Moors  were  the  best  soldiers  in 
Spain  because  they  were  so  sure  of  the  hereafter,  I  suppose.  Russian 
tank  drivers  used  to  tell  me  how  astonished  they  were  at  the  bravery 
of  the  Moors.  The  treads  of  their  tanks,  they  said,  were  sometimes 
filled  with  ground  bits  of  human  flesh;  the  Moors  had  stood  still 
and  fought  till  the  iron  caterpillar  monsters  rode  over  them. 


EBRO:  RIVER  OF  BLOOD  547 

The  Moors  fought  well  because  of  a  something  in  their  blood, 
tradition  and  faith.  The  Americans  and  the  other  Internationals 
fought  well  because  of  a  belief  in  peace,  decency,  and  the  human 
rights  of  common  people.  As  I  looked  at  the  Americans  lying  there 
among  olive  trees  as  old,  gnarled,  and  twisted  as  those  I  had  seen 
in  Gethsemane,  I  thought  of  my  own  role  in  the  Brigade.  I  had 
obtained  considerable  sums  of  money  for  the  transportation  of  vol- 
unteers to  Spain.  At  one  public  meeting  in  the  Hippodrome  in  New 
York  I  had  urged  men  to  enlist.  Some  of  those  were  probably  dead 
now.  I  had  helped  to  send  demobilized  and  wounded  Americans 
back  to  the  United  States  at  the  expense  of  the  Spanish  Republic 
and  to  get  them  spending  money  on  board  ship  and  a  $25  bonus 
per  man  to  tide  over  the  difficult  period  immediately  after  landing 
in  America.  It  was  a  responsibility  to  bring  men  out  of  their  homes 
into  a  battlefield,  and  on  the  Ebro  that  day  my  feelings  of  pride  were 
mixed  with  sorrow. 

Joe  North,  the  boss  of  the  Ford  auto,  now  insisted  on  returning 
to  Barcelona,  and  the  Frenchman,  Englishman,  and  I  concurred.  The 
morning  was  gone.  We  pointed  the  car  to  the  river.  Occasionally, 
the  chauffeur  reminded  us  to  crane  our  necks  out  of  the  windows 
to  watch  for  airplanes.  Usually,  one  was  guided  by  the  trucks.  If  a 
truck  ahead  of  you  stopped  with  a  jerk  and  its  occupants  dashed 
out  into  the  fields  you  knew  they  had  sighted  a  plane.  But  the 
road  was  empty  and  we  had  to  keep  a  lookout  ourselves.  As  we 
approached  a  spot  where  a  side  road  intersected  our  main  highway 
I  noticed  that  a  soldier  and  a  boy  who  had  been  sitting  on  a  culvert 
quickly  jumped  up  and  ran.  I  shouted  to  the  driver  and  he  turned 
off  his  motor.  The  moment  he  did  so  we  heard  a  much  bigger  and 
louder  motor  zooming  above  us.  We  threw  open  the  doors  and 
bolted,  hoping  to  get  to  the  open  field,  for  a  road  is  dangerous  be- 
cause it  is  so  clearly  visible  from  the  air  and  offers  no  protection. 
But  we  could  not  get  as  far  as  the  field.  The  plane  had  opened  up 
its  machine  guns  and  was  strafing  us.  I  had  been  under  bombs  many 
times,  but  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  strafed  and  it  was  pretty 
awful.  We  all  lay  in  the  stinking  ditch  by  the  side  of  the  road.  I 
thought  to  myself,  "I  don't  want  to  be  crippled  or  blinded.  It's  bet- 
ter to  die."  The  plane  was  laying  down  a  field  of  fire  around  us. 
We  were  his  lone  target.  I  hunched  my  back,  put  my  head  as  close 
as  possible  to  the  stench,  covered  my  eyes  with  one  hand  and  the 
top  of  my  head  with  the  other.  How  long  did  it  last?  Probably  not 


548      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

more  than  two  minutes.  But  they  can  be  very  long.  He  closed  his 
guns.  We  looked  up.  A  bomb  separated  itself  from  the  fuselage 
of  the  plane  and  fell  with  a  whining  whistle.  It  hit  somewhere  near. 
But  that  was  all  No  explosion.  Another  bomb  dropped  from  the 
plane.  "He  must  be  down  to  about  one  thousand  feet,"  Joe  said. 
The  bomb  whistled,  struck  earth.  Silence.  A  third  bomb  and  a 
fourth  bomb.  He  resumed  altitude  and  made  off.  Two  of  us  ran 
into  the  field.  But  he  was  through  with  us.  He  had  dropped  four 
duds.  We  decided  he  must  have  been  an  Italian.  We  found  all  four 
bombs.  One  had  fallen  on  the  side  road  about  twenty  yards  from 
where  we  lay.  The  other  three  had  fallen  in  the  field  near  the  road. 
If  one  had  exploded  it  would  have  killed  or  maimed  us  all.  One 
bomb  had  imbedded  itself  in  the  ground  and  was  standing  with 
its  point  upward.  A  bomb  is  so  constructed  that  it  should  strike 
point-first.  All  the  bombs  were  defective.  They  were  hundred 
pounders  and  their  shells  were  rusty. 

After  an  experience  like  that  you  have  a  desire  to  get  as  far  from 
the  scene  as  possible.  But  when  we  reached  a  small  town  on  the 
Ebro,  a  sentry  told  us  the  bridge  had  just  been  wrecked  by  bombs 
and  we  would  have  to  retrace  our  steps  and  go  by  way  of  Flix.  The 
sentry  was  covered  with  white  powdery  dust  from  the  buildings 
that  had  been  hit  in  the  bombing.  He  was  the  only  living  soul  to 
be  seen.  The  entire  town  had  been  deserted. 

The  detour  via  Flix  meant  about  two  hours'  more  travel,  and 
our  chauffeur  did  not  have  enough  gasoline  for  the  extra  mileage. 
To  obtain  gasoline  we  needed  a  slip  from  the  military  authorities 
and  so  we  drove  back  to  Modesto's  staff  house  and  reached  it  just 
in  time  for  a  powerful  lunqh  such  as  one  never  got  in  Barcelona.  The 
Russians  had  gone  to  the  river  to  see  the  effects  of  the  bridge  bomb- 
ing, but  Modesto  was  there,  in  fine  shape  and  mood. 

Near  the  gasoline  depot  there  was  a  temporary  prison,  and  the 
official  in  charge  of  the  depot  invited  us  to  interview  two  recently 
captured  Germans.  They  were  surly  and  refused  to  talk.  When  we 
got  back  to  the  car  at  the  gasoline  station,  the  air  throbbed  with 
planes.  We  tried  to  count.  We  lost  count  because  they  were  so 
high— three  miles,  we  estimated  for  some— and  because  they  were 
racing  fast  in  all  directions  across  the  sky.  Apparently,  a  tremen- 
dous squadron  of  Fascist  bombers,  protected  by  fighters,  was  at- 
tempting to  bomb  the  bridges*  and  a  considerable  number  of  Loy- 
alist fighters  was  trying  to  stop  them.  There  must  have  been  at  least 


EBRO:  .RIVER  OF  BLOOD  549 

fifty  all  told.  Twos  or  threes  from  each  side  separated  from  the 
main  bodies,  found  corners  in  the  air  for  themselves  and  circled 
and  circled  looking  for  a  chance  to  attack.  Sometimes  two  would 
head  towards  one  another,  pass  one  another,  corkscrew  to  earth  and 
then  straighten  out  with  their  machine  guns  blazing  at  one  another. 
You  never  knew  which  was  rebel  and  which  Republican.  Mean- 
while the  bombers  "laid  their  eggs."  Where?  Had  they  demolished 
another  bridge? 

The  air  felt  as  though  it  consisted  of  huge  solid  chunks  which 
pounded  each  other  and  sent  solid  air-waves  against  one's  ears. 
The  planes  moved  so  fast  that  the  sky  seemed  full  of  them.  I  had 
been  caught  behind  a  tree  when  the  whole  thing  started.  A  woman 
in  a  little  wooden  shack  called  to  me.  Several  soldiers  had  taken 
refuge  there  too,  but  the  woman  was  anxious  about  an  ancient 
mother  who  kept  going  upstairs  and  coming  downstairs  and  look- 
ing out  and  retiring  into  the  shack.  I  decided  to  go  back  to  the  tree. 
Near  by  lay  two  old  rubber  automobile  tires.  I  sat  down  and  leaned 
them  against  me.  That  was  all  the  protection  I  could  find.  On  this 
occasion  I  timed  the  raid.  It  lasted  twenty-three  minutes.  Then  the 
planes  disappeared. 

We  drove  fast  to  Flix  hoping  the  bridge  was  intact.  Flix  had 
been  bombed  often.  We  stopped  in  one  house  overlooking  the  high 
bank  of  the  river.  A  mother  and  two  children  lived  in  it.  The  mother 
said  she  had  stayed  because  the  food  was  more  plentiful  than  in 
the  big  cities.  Here  the  soldiers  fed  her.  And  the  air-raid  shelter, 
dug  by  the  Fascists  into  the  solid  rock  of  a  hill,  was  the  best  I  ever 
saw  in  Spain.  Rats  ran  around  in  the  streets;  the  raids  had  broken 
up  their  life. 

The  bridge  was  intact.  All  traffic  had  been  diverted  to  it  and  we 
had  to  wait.  Two  little  specks  appeared  in  the  air.  Were  they  com- 
ing to  bomb  the  bridge?  No,  Loyalist  patrol  fighters.  Flix  was  the 
best  bridge;  built  on  supports  in  the  river  bed.  Our  car  dashed  across. 
The  beach  and  the  shores  were  continuous  bomb  craters.  Having 
got  over,  we  again  had  to  jump  out  of  the  Ford  when  bombers 
appeared,  but  it  was  now  beginning  to  grow  dark  and  the  raiding 
ceased.  The  bombing  crews  were  going  home  for  dinner.  We  passed 
a  huge  cave  with  a  wide  mouth  that  had  been  converted  into  a  hos- 
pital. White  nurses  moved  about  inside.  It  afforded  perfect  protec- 
tion against  raids.  Only  shrapnel  from  a  chance  bomb  that  fell  right 
at  the  entrance  could  do  any  damage.  We  did  not  stop  because  it 


550      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

was  late.  We  detoured  at  Falset  which  had  just  been  raided.  The 
chauffeur  was  tired  and  sleepy.  I  swayed  in  the  front  seat  and  slept 
and  woke  and  slept.  The  chauffeur  asked  me  to  talk  to  him  lest  he 
fall  asleep  at  the  wheel.  We  arrived  at  the  Majestic  Hotel  after  two 
in  the  morning. 

That  day  I  lunched  with  Dr.  Negrin  at  his  villa  on  the  outskirts 
of  Barcelona.  I  told  him  about  our  experience  with  the  four  dud 
bombs.  He  said,  "Don't  write  about  that  now.  The  Fascists  might 
be  able  to  trace  the  bombs."  Workingmen  in  factories  in  Italy,  he 
said,  are  deliberately  spoiling  bombs.  "We  have  opened  dud  bombs 
made  for  Franco  in  Portugal  in  which  the  workingmen  inserted 
notes  saying,  'Friend,  this  bomb  won't  hurt  you.' " 

Every  day,  about  an  hour  before  dinner,  the  hotel  lobby  began 
to  fill,  and  everybody  sat  waiting  eagerly  for  the  restaurant  to  start 
serving  dinner.  As  you  took  your  place  at  the  table,  the  headwaiter, 
in  evening  dress,  approached  and  bowed,  greeted  you  amiably  and 
handed  you  the  menu  card.  It  was  made  of  heavy  glazed  paper  with 
embossing  in  gold,  and  on  it  the  names  of  the  dishes  were  typed. 
One  specimen  I  kept  offers:  Potage  Garbour,  Medaillon  Grill6, 
artichauts  Farcies  Provengale,  and  noissetes.  There  was  no  choice, 
but  the  waiter  handed  you  the  card  anyway  and  you  always  said, 
"I'll  take  all  of  it."  Foreigners  supplemented  this  shrunken  fare  with 
imported  delicacies.  This  applied  especially  to  Herbert  L.  Matthews, 
tall,  thin,  silent,  efficient,  hard-working,  much-eating  correspondent 
of  the  New  York  Times,  the  best  journalist  in  Spain.  We  usually 
sat  four  or  five  or  even  eight  at  a  table  and  pooled  our  commis- 
saries. Then  we  had  coffee  in  the  lobby.  The  lights  were  weak  and 
sometimes  they  went  out  completely.  It  was  difficult  to  read.  After 
10  P.M.  the  electric  current  ceased  altogether.  The  regular  corre- 
spondents then  drove  off  to  the  press  department  to  get  the  war 
bulletin  and  phone  the  day's  news  to  Paris. 

The  Loyalist  army  was  holding  the  rebels  on  the  Valencia  front. 
Sagunto,  important  steel  center,  had  been  saved  from  Fascist  cap- 
ture. The  army  also  clutched  to  its  Ebro  gains.  The  Republic  gave 
an  impression  of  calm  and  strength.  The  soldiers,  the  women,  the 
officials  voiced  two  slogans:  our  aims  are  just,  and  the  world  is 
unjust  to  us. 

Catalonia  was  tired.  Mercifully,  Barcelona  experienced  only  six 
air  raids  during  the  fortnight  I  spent  there.  Citizens  had  grown  ac- 
customed to  them.  When  the  sirens  blew  people  walked  to  the  shel- 


EBRO:  RIVER  OF  BLOOD  551 

ters  or  continued  on  their  business.  Once  I  was  caught  in  a  tropical 
downpour  of  rain.  The  Spaniards  ran  faster  than  when  bombs  fell. 
I  bought  an  imported  French  dress  for  Markoosha  who  was  in 
Moscow  and  sent  it  to  her  through  Anna  Louise  Strong.  (I  usually 
bought  Markoosha's  clothes,  even  evening  dresses  and  shoes,  in  Paris 
or  London  or  New  York  and  brought  them  to  her  when  she  could 
not  leave  Russia.)  Normal  life  fought  for  itself.  Despite  the  sharp 
shortage  of  soap,  women  were  fragrantly  clean  and  richly  made-up. 
Jewelry  and  paintings  could  still  be  had  in  the  stores.  On  the  streets, 
couples  smiled  and  laughed.  The  cafes  were  jammed  although  they 
served  no  coffee,  no  food,  and  only  a  few  cheap,  watery  alcoholic 
drinks.  Photographers  did  a  rushing  trade.  Two  foreign  lovers  who 
lived  in  the  Majestic  bought  bunches  of  flowers  for  one  another  on 
the  much-bombed  Rambla  de  Flores.  Cinemas  operated  until  dark. 
Symphonic  orchestras  gave  concerts.  The  newspapers  printed  articles 
on  economic  conditions  in  foreign  countries  and  odes  by  old  poets 
and  warrior  poets,  odes  to  a  sunset,  odes  to  a  fair  maiden.  Beauti- 
fully printed  books  appeared  in  Barcelona.  Along  the  road  back  to 
the  frontier,  government  employees  pruned  the  fat  sycamore  trees. 
The  customs  official  had  washed  his  white  gloves. 

I  remained  in  Paris  three  days.  Paris  was  quiet  in  August  and  I 
wanted  some  relaxation.  So  I  flew  down  to  Cannes  on  the  French 
Mediterranean  Riviera.  Every  day  I  played  tennis  with  an  instructor 
for  two  hours  in  the  broiling  sun,  ate  lunch  on  the  way  home,  took 
a  shower,  and  then  fell  asleep.  When  I  awoke  at  about  three  I  went 
to  the  beach,  rented  a  pedalo,  which  is  a  sort  of  skiff  or  canoe 
equipped  with  foot  paddles,  and  went  out  several  miles  to  sea.  After 
about  an  hour  of  this  strenuous  exercise,  I  swam,  came  home  for 
a  shower,  slept  for  thirty  minutes,  went  out  to  dinner,  roller-skated 
all  evening,  came  home  for  my  third  shower,  and  slept  soundly 
through  the  night.  Several  times  friends  at  San  Ary,  a  near-by  re- 
sort on  the  Riviera,  phoned  and  asked  me  to  visit  them.  Ellen  Wil- 
kinson, Otto  Katz,  and  Friedrich  Wolf  were  there  and  they  could 
not  understand  why  I  wouldn't  come  over.  For  me  a  vacation  is  a 
vacation  from  people.  I  wanted  to  be  alone,  and  throughout  the  stay 
I  never  talked  to  anybody  except  waiters,  my  tennis  teacher,  and 
the  hotel  personnel. 

My  tennis  instructor  told  me  this  one:  Borotra,  the  French  tennis 
ace,  played  as  Swedish  King  Gustav's  doubles  partner.  "More  to  the 


552      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

left,  Your  Majesty,  more  to  the  left,"  Borotra  instructed.  "Yes,  I 
know,  I  know,"  King  Gustav  commented.  "That's  what  my  Social- 
ist ministers  always  say  to  me." 

One  afternoon  I  was  awakened  by  a  phone  call.  My  room  had 
no  phone  and  I  went  out  into  the  corridor.  It  was  a  call  from  Lon- 
don. But  I  told  the  London  operator  it  wasn't  for  me;  the  person 
wanted  had  a  three-pronged  name  which  I  didn't  hear  very  dis- 
tinctly, but  the  first  part  was  Leon  and  not  Louis.  A  few  minutes 
later  I  was  again  summoned  to  the  phone.  The  operator  said  it  was 
for  me.  Was  I  Fischer?  The  call  was  for  Leon  Trotzky  Fischer,  and 
at  the  London  end  was  Vincent  Sheean  who  just  wanted  to  have 
some  fun. 

I  spent  thirteen  happy  days  at  Cannes.  But  I  read  newspapers,  and 
I  began  to  feel  that  something  was  brewing  in  Europe.  I  think  a 
correspondent  develops  a  special  sense  for  political  climate.  His 
bones  feel  coming  crises  and  storms— just  as  a  rheumatic  person  may 
have  a  premonition  of  rain.  I  sensed  approaching  bad  weather,  and 
reluctantly  returned  to  Paris.  In  a  few  days,  the  prelude  to  Munich 
commenced.  Storm  over  Prague.  Tempest  over  Czechoslovakia.  Cy- 
clone in  Germany.  Hitler  over  Europe,  Chamberlain  making 
speeches. 


33-  The  Fall  of  France 

BY  an  infamous  agreement  dated  Munich,  September  29,  1938, 
Chamberlain  and  Daladier  gave  the  Sudetenland  to  Hitler  and 
thus  killed  a  free  nation,  Czechoslovakia.  On  the  thirtieth, 
Mr.  Chamberlain,  pink  and  self-satisfied,  flew  back  to  England. 
When  he  alighted  at  the  Croydon  airdrome  he  was  wreathed  in 
smiles  which  reflected  real  happiness.  He  waved  a  scrap  of  paper 
signed  by  Hitler  and  himself  and  exclaimed,  "I  believe  it  is  peace 
for  our  time."  "Our  time"  lasted  exactly  eleven  months. 

The  appeasers  would  like  to  make  it  appear  that  at  Munich  the 
Anglo-French  yielded  to  superior  force.  They  say:  Hitler  threat- 
ened war  if  he  did  not  get  the  Sudetenland;  France  and  England 
could  not  fight  because  they  were  unprepared.  This  is  a  dishonest 
argument  because  it  is  only  partially  true  and  is  largely  untrue. 

The  British  and  French  governments  actively  assisted  in  bring- 
ing about  Munich.  They  did  so  long  before  the  Czechoslovak  crisis 
arose. 

The  excuse  of  inferiority  was  also  employed  at  the  time  of  Abys- 
sinia. Could  England  have  gone  to  war  on  account  of  Abyssinia,  the 
appeasers  asked.  The  answer  is  Yes.  That  would  have  been  the  best 
time  for  it.  Germany  was  not  yet  rearmed.  In  January,  1935,  Goering 
said  Germany  had  no  air  force.  War  in  1935  might  have  saved  Eu- 
rope from  a  deadlier  war  in  1939.  England  and  France  were  ten 
times  stronger  than  Italy  in  1935.  England  alone  was  stronger. 
Mussolini  would  probably  have  desisted  if  the  British  had  shown 
any  intention  of  resisting  him.  It  was  not  that  the  British  and  French 
could  not  stop  Italy.  They  did  not  wish  to.  Indeed,  Pierre  Laval  told 
Mussolini  to  take  Abyssinia  in  January,  1935,  ten  months  before  the 
invasion  of  Abyssinia  commenced,  and  the  British,  who  knew  all 
along  about  preparations  for  the  conquest,  made  no  effort  to  inter- 
fere. 

The  same  thing  happened  in  regard  to  Czechoslovakia.  In  No- 
vember, 1937,  Lord  Halifax,  who  was  the  King's  "Master  of  Fox- 
hounds," went  to  Berlin  to  see  a  hunting  exhibition.  He  also  visited 

553 


554      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Hitler  at  Berchtesgaden  and  indicated  clearly  to  him  that  England 
had  no  interests  in  the  Danube  area.  That  made  it  open  season  for 
Hitler  in  Austria  and  Czechoslovakia.  Hitler  commenced  to  prepare. 
Yet  he  hesitated.  He  was  merely  beginning  his  career  as  interna- 
tional bandit  and  he  proceeded  cautiously.  He  wanted  to  be  quite 
sure  there  would  be  no  opposition.  So  he  told  the  British  and  French 
what  he  proposed  to  do.  He  announced,  on  February  20,  1938,  that 
he  regarded  himself  the  guardian  of  the  ten  million  Germans  of 
Austria  and  Czechoslovakia. 

How  did  Chamberlain  react?  Did  he  warn  Hitler  to  keep  hands 
off?  No.  He  said  in  the  House  of  Commons  two  days  later,  "If  I 
am  right,  and  I  am  confident  I  am,  in  saying  that  the  League  as  con- 
stituted today  is  unable  to  provide  collective  security  for  anybody, 
then  I  say  we  must  not  try  to  delude  ourselves,  and  still  more,  we 
must  not  try  to  delude  weak  nations  into  thinking  that  they  will  be 
protected  against  aggression  and  acting  accordingly  when  we  know 
that  nothing  of  the  kind  can  be  expected." 

This  was  Chamberlain's  reply  to  Hitler.  Go  ahead,  Mr.  Hitler,  he 
was  saying,  take  those  ten  million  Germans  in  Austria  and  Czecho- 
slovakia. We  will  not  do  a  thing  about  it.  Mr.  Chamberlain  made 
this  statement  in  reply  to  Anthony  Eden  who,  the  day  before,  had 
resigned  as  Foreign  Minister  on  account  of  sharp  differences  of  opin- 
ion with  Chamberlain  about  Spain,  Italy,  and  the  League  of  Nations. 
Eden  would  have  tried  to  prevent  the  rape  of  Austria  and  Czecho- 
slovakia. 

Three  weeks  later,  Hitler,  not  wishing  to  disappoint  Chamber- 
lain, annexed  his  "beloved"  Austria. 

To  any  politically  literate  person  this  signified  that  Czechoslovakia 
was  in  peril.  Hitler  had  taken  seven  of  the  ten  million  Germans. 
The  other  three  million  lived  in  the  Sudetenland.  Czechoslovakia's 
frontier  with  Austria  had  been  unfortified.  Now,  therefore,  it  was 
more  exposed  to  German  attack. 

Accordingly,  the  Soviet  government  on  March  18,  five  days  after 
the  annexation  of  Austria,  proposed  a  conference  of  the  major 
powers  to  consider  the  new  situation.  The  British  and  French  gov- 
ernments rejected  the  proposal;  Chamberlain  announced  in  the 
House  of  Commons  that  Marshal  Goering  had  assured  the  Czechs 
no  harm  would  be  done  to  them.  And  Goering,  Sir  Nevile  Hender- 
son, British  Ambassador  in  Germany,  assured  London,  was  an  hon- 
orable man.  Not  at  all  like  that  maniac  Hitler.  "I  had  a  real  personal 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  555 

liking  for  him,"  wrote  Henderson  of  Goering.  So  everything  was 
all  right. 

England  and  France  neither  protested  against  the  annexation  of 
Austria  nor  admonished  Hitler  for  wiping  out  an  independent  state 
and  member  of  the  League  of  Nations,  nor  warned  him  against  re- 
peating the  stunt.  This  was  encouragement  enough  for  Hitler.  But 
not  enough  for  Chamberlain.  He  was  lavish  in  his  gifts  to  Mussolini 
and  Hitler. 

Lady  Nancy  Astor  gave  a  party  at  her  house  in  May,  1938,  so 
that  Prime  Minister  Chamberlain  might  get  acquainted  with  the 
American  correspondents  in  London  and  they  with  him.  They  asked 
him  questions.  One  journalist  "spilled"  the  story.  It  was  Joseph  Dris- 
coll  of  the  N&w  York  Herald  Tribime,  and  when  Chamberlain  was 
asked  in  the  House  of  Commons  about  DriscolTs  dispatch  he  did 
not  deny  it.-  According  to  Driscoll,  the  correspondents  asked  Cham- 
berlain whether  he  thought  France  and  Russia  would  fight  for  the 
Czechs.  Chamberlain  replied  that  they  would  not  fight  for  the 
Czechs  because  they  had  no  geographical  contact  with  Czechoslo- 
vakia. "Besides,"  Chamberlain  added,  "the  Russians  have  shot  their 
best  generals."  But  Russia  could  send  planes.  Ah,  Chamberlain  re- 
plied, the  Czechs  lack  sufficient  airfields.  "Nothing  seems  clearer," 
Joseph  Driscoll  summarized,  "than  that  the  British  do  not  expect  to 
fight  for  Czechoslovakia  and  do  not  anticipate  that  Russia  or  France 
will  either.  That  being  so,  the  Czechs  must  accede  to  the  German 
demands,  if  reasonable."  With  the  excellent  German  espionage  serv- 
ice in  London  every  word  Chamberlain  uttered  at  Lady  Astor's  was 
very  likely  known  to  Hitler  the  same  day. 

In  the  third  week  of  May,  the  German  army  displayed  consid- 
erable activity.  These  movements,  Berlin  explained,  were  "rou- 
tine." "But,"  comments  Hamilton  Fish  Armstrong  in  his  succinct, 
brilliant  and  useful  litde  book,  When  There  Is  No  Peace,  "Benes 
had  learnt  something  from  watching  the  fate  of  Austria  after  'rou- 
tine' movements  of  German  troops.  .  .  ."  President  Benes  therefore 
ordered  the  full  mobilization  of  the  Czechoslovak  army.  The  Rus- 
sians advised  him  to  do  this. 

The  "routine"  movements  remained  routine.  Hitler  for  once  drew 
in  his  horns. 

Pierre  Cot,  the  former  French  Minister  of  Air,  tells  me  that  be- 
tween this  May  episode  and  the  Munich  crisis  in  September,  the 


556      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Soviet  government  delivered  300  military  planes  to  Czechoslovakia. 
Mr.  Cot  had  this  information  from  high  Czech  authorities. 

The  British  and  the  French,  on  the  other  hand,  continued  to  un- 
dermine the  Czechs'  confidence  and  bolster  up  Hitler's.  Officially, 
the  French  said  they  would  support  Czechoslovakia.  Actually,  Dala- 
dier,  and  especially  Georges  Bonnet,  who.  became  Foreign  Minister 
of  France  just  about  this  time— April  10— the  wrong  time— urged 
Prague  to  yield.  Hitler  was  making  use  of  a  gigantic  Trojan  Horse 
he  had  in  Czechoslovakia,  the  Nazi  party  of  the  Sudeten  Germans 
led  by  Konrad  Henlein.  The  Sudeten  Germans  had  had  their  griev- 
ances in  the  past  as  every  national  minority  may  have.  But  their  com- 
plaints had  been  neither  loud  nor  insistent  until  the  annexation  of 
Austria  when,  under  the  lashing  of  Hitler's  whip,  the  Sudeten  Fas- 
cists commenced  making  impossible  demands.  Benes  was  concilia- 
tory. But  whenever  he  accepted  a  demand,  Konrad  Henlein  asked  for 
more.  In  August,  the  British 'government  delegated  Lord  Runciman 
to  Prague  as  intermediary  between  the  Czech  government  and  the 
Sudeten.  He  never  once  sought  to  moderate  the  pressure  of  Hitler  or 
Henlein  on  Prague.  He  conceived  his  task  as  squeezing  more  con- 
cessions from  Czechoslovakia. 

Frederick  T.  Birchall  wired  the  New  York  Times  on  August  n, 
"In  the  inner  circles  of  the  democratic  governments,  despite  French 
pledges  and  British  sympathy,  the  preservation  of  Czechoslovakia  as 
an  independent  state  has  already  been  virtually  given  up."  High  Brit- 
ish and  French  officials  told  this,  "off  the  record,"  to  numerous  vis- 
itors, and  German  ears  were  wide  open  in  London  and  Paris. 

Meanwhile,  Hitler  accelerated  the  building  of  the  fortifications 
of  the  Western  Wall  facing  France.  From  all  over  Germany,  young 
men  conscripted  into  labor  battalions  were  rushed  down  to  do  this 
job.  Hitler  later  said  they  numbered  462,000.  Hitler  examined  the 
new  forts  on  August  28,  and  appeared  demonstratively  at  Kehl,  op- 
posite the  Maginot  Line.  Throughout  Germany,  the  army  engaged 
in  extensive  maneuvers. 

Was  Hitler  staging  a  gigantic  bluff  or  did  he  intend  to  fight? 

I  believed  throughout  that  Hitler  knew  England  and  France  would 
not  go  to  war  on  behalf  of  Czechoslovakia.  A  fortnight  after  Munich 
I  wrote  defending  the  thesis  that  Germany  had  never  expected  to 
wage  war  with  the  Western  Powers  over  Czechoslovakia.  In  De- 
cember, 1938,  I  wrote  again  on  the  subject,  quoting  these  words 
from  Winston  Churchill  in  the  London  Daily  Telegraph  of  De- 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  557 

cember  i,  1938:  "It  is  now  known  that  during  the  late  crisis  Herr 
Hitler  concentrated  three-quarters  of  his  armies  against  Czechoslo- 
vakia, and  left  on  the  French  frontier,  to  guard  his  uncompleted 
defenses,  a  force  far  inferior  to  the  French  army.  .  .  .  Either  Herr 
Hitler  must  be  a  desperate  gambler  or  he  must  have  been  pretty  sure 
that  he  would  be  let  alone  to  work  his  will  on  the  Czech  republic." 
Hitler  was  more  than  pretty  sure.  He  was  sure. 

Hitler  discounted  every  Anglo-French  gesture  of  support  to  Benes 
because  he  knew  what  went  on  behind  the  scenes.  I  was  at  the  Black- 
pool British  Trade  Union  Congress  in  the  first  days  of  September. 
The  trade  unions  wanted  the  government  to  stand  fast  for  Spain 
and  Czechoslovakia.  Resolutions  to  that  effect  were  adopted  and 
submitted  to  10  Downing  Street.  But  Attlee,  Citrine,  and  others  at 
the  Congress  realized  that  Chamberlain  would  yield.  For  on  Septem- 
ber 7,  an  editorial  in  the  London  Times  urged  the  Czechs  to  give 
up  the  Sudetenland  to  Hitler.  It  was  later  denied  that  this  editorial 
represented  the  view  of  the  British  government.  Every  serious  per- 
son in  England,  Germany,  France,  and  Czechoslovakia  believed  that 
it  did.  Munich  proved  that  it  did.  The  denial  confirmed  the  belief. 

However,  powerful  groups  and  persons  in  the  western  countries 
opposed  the  Chamberlain  policy  of  war-making  appeasement.  Cham- 
berlain walked  the  straight  and  narrow  path  to  Munich.  But  even 
Halifax  and  Daladier  had  their  doubts.  Bonnet  never.  Hitler's 
speeches,  tours,  maneuvers,  blusterings  were  designed  to  break  down 
the  opposition  to  Chamberlain  and  Bonnet  and  to  break  the  heart  of 
the  Czechs. 

In  France,  as  in  England,  the  spokesmen  of  labor  insisted  on  help 
to  Czechoslovakia.  After  Munich,  Jouhaux,  the  leader  of  the  French 
trade  unions— the  C.G.T.— revealed  in  a  published  speech  that  he  had 
visited  Premier  Daladier  during  the  tense  days  before  the  surrender. 
Jouhaux  reminded  Daladier  that  France  had  an  alliance  with  the 
Czechs  and  that  it  had  been  concluded  for  just  such  cases  as  this. 
"Yes,"  replied  Daladier,  "we  are  bound  by  treaties,  but  treaties  can 
be  interpreted." 

"France,"  Jouhaux  objected,  "does  not  interpret  her  signature." 
The  Left  was  more  patriotic  than  the  Right. 

"Listen,"  Daladier  said  finally,  "I  will  read  you  a  report  by  Gen- 
eral Gamelin."  Gamelin  was  then  French  chief  of  staff.  The  Pre- 
mier opened  a  drawer  in  his  desk  and  drew  out  a  thick  document. 
He  read  the  first  page  to  Jouhaux.  It  outlined  the  difficulties  created 


558      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

for  France  by  the  loss  of  the  Saar,  the  remilitarization  of  the  Rhine- 
land,  and  the  annexation  of  Austria  by  Germany. 

"But  read  on,"  Jouhaux  demanded.  "What  does  Gamelin  recom- 
mend?" 

"Despite  these  difficulties,"  Daladier  read,  "it  is  necessary  to  inter- 


vene." 


That  was  the  view  of  the  French  army  staff.  Reserves  had  been 
called  up  and  the  Maginot  Line  was. fully  manned.  It  was  the  view 
of  Georges  Mandel,  Minister  of  Colonies,  Paul  Reynaud,  Minister 
of  Finance,  C6sar  Campinchi,  Minister  of  the  Navy,  Champetier  de 
Ribes,  Minister  of  Pensions,  and  others  in  the  government,  outside 
the  government,  in  the  press,  in  the  public. 

France  was  divided  on  the  question  of  Czechoslovakia.  So  was 
England.  So,  indeed,  was  Czechoslovakia  itself.  And  so  was  Ger- 
many. I  think  this  is  the  essential  clue  to  the  Munich  crisis.  Even 
individuals,  sometimes  key  individuals  in  politics,  were  divided  within 
themselves  counseling  resistance  in  the  evening  and  surrender  the 
next  morning,  or  vice  versa. 

Hitler's  purpose,  Chamberlain's  purpose,  Bonnet's  purpose  during 
the  pre-Munich  crisis  was  to  Bring  the  waverers  off  the  fence  into 
the  surrender  camp  and  to  frighten  the  resisters  into  passivity  or 
flight.  Towards  this  end  it  became  necessary  to  convince  British 
and  French  citizens  that  Czechoslovakia  was  not  so  important,  that 
Germany  was  extremely  powerful,  that  England  and  France  were 
very  weak,  and  that  Russia,  which  advocated  the  defense  of  the 
Czechs,  did  not  mean  it.  Hitler  likewise  faced  opposition  at  home. 
Propaganda  Minister  Goebbels  said  so  in  a  speech  on  October  n, 
after  the  event.  Hitler  subsequently  spoke  in  public  of  the  generals 
who  advised  against  action.  Das  Scfawarze  Korps,  organ  of  the  S.S. 
guards,  on  September  22,  1938,  condemned  as  "short-sighted,  un- 
political ostriches"  those  who  asked,  "Why  now?  Why  the  hurry? 
Did' we  not  wait  in  the  case  of  Austria  until  the  fruit  was  ripe,  and 
cannot  the  Sudeten  Germans  carry  on  a  few  years  longer  until 
Czechoslovakia  falls  apart  of  itself?"  There  must  have  been  many 
"ostriches"  for  this  magazine  to  take  cognizance  of  them.  "Don't  be 
fools,"  the  paper  replied.  "Much  more  is  involved  than  the  Sudeten- 
land."  A  fatal  blow  was  being  struck  at  France.  To  win  over  his 
own  public  and  army  staff,  Hitler  had  to  intimate,  without  saying 
it,  that  there  would  be  no  war.  The  public  and  the  army  feared  war 
for  good  reason,  but  Hitler  was  a  much  better  psychologist  than 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  559 

they;  he  had  a  woman's  intuition  about  old  men's  weaknesses  and 
he  knew  that  by  a  last  moment  "twist,"  as  Germans  called  it,  the 
Nazis  would  win  without  shedding  German  blood.  Munich  was  the 
last  moment  "twist"  which  saved  Hitler  from  the  exposure  of  his 
bluff.  Flabby  German  democracy  which  had  presented  its  own  head 
to  Hitler  on  a  charger  taught  him  to  expect  similar  favors  from 
flabby  foreign  democracies. 

The  game  in  France  and  England,  therefore,  was  to  make  citizens 
quail  before  the  imminence  of  air  raids.  The  authorities  ordered 
inadequate  shelters  dug  in  the  mud  of  city  parks.  Paris  extinguished 
its  lights.  But  Berlin  did  not.  Germany  took  no  precautions.  Hitler 
was  "pretty  sure"  he  would  have  no  need  of  them. 

Bullitt,  the  United  States  Ambassador  in  Paris,  had  revealed  his 
concept  of  the  European  situation  to  many  persons:  it  was  easier 
for  France  to  agree  with  Germany  than  with  Soviet  Russia.  This 
was  also  the  guiding  thought  of  Bonnet  and  of  all  appeasers.  To 
convert  it  into  policy,  reports  of  German  might  and  Soviet  col- 
lapse would  help.  Herein  Colonel  Charles  A.  Lindbergh  played  his 
little  role. 

Lindbergh  had  paid  visits  to  Russia  and  Germany.  In  each  coun- 
try, he  saw  airplanes,  airfields,  and  aviation  factories.  When  he  re- 
turned from  these  investigations,  Americans  in  Paris  and  Americans 
in  London  introduced  Lindbergh  into  the  highest  official  circles. 
For  instance,  Ambassador  Kennedy  saw  to  it  that  he  got  to  Neville 
Chamberlain.  What  Lindbergh  said  to  the  upper  levels  immediately 
filtered  down  to  the  lower  strata.  Lindbergh  said  the  Soviet  air  force 
was  poor  and  that  Germany  had  ten  thousand  first-line  planes  and 
could  turn  out  twenty  thousand  planes  a  year. 

Obviously,  the  Russians  did  not  tell  Lindbergh  that  their  aviation 
was  bad.  Obviously,  the  Germans  did  tell  him  that  they  had  ten 
thousand  planes.  That  is  the  only  way  he  could  have  found  out.  In 
any  country  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain  the  strength  of  an  air  f  dree. 
In  a  dictatorship  it  is  particularly  difficult  except  through  persons 
authorized  by  the  dictatorship  to  talk.  No  stranger  can  count  ten 
thousand  planes  in  different  parts  of  Germany.  Somebody  has  to 
tell  him.  Somebody  told  Lindbergh.  He  believed  it  and  repeated  it. 
But  it  was  not  true.  It  was,  however,  gleefully  accepted  by  the 
appeasers  in  London  and  Paris  because  it  bolstered  their  positions 
against  the  non-appeasers,  against  the  fifty  percent-appeasers  and 
against  the  twenty-five  percent-appeasers. 


560      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

As  the  pre-Munich  crisis  advanced,  the  anti-appeasers  lost  ground. 
Before  going  to  Geneva  for  a  League  of  Nations  session  I  went  to 
see  Georges  Mandel  in  Paris.  He  was  the  arch-enemy  of  the  ap- 
peasers.  He  is  a  swarthy  man,  crafty,  energetic,  and  was  much- 
feared  and  much-hated  because  he  knew  so  much.  He  collected  in- 
formation, mostly  unsavory,  about  French  politicians.  Rumor  has 
it  that  he  kept  these  files  abroad. 

I  interviewed  him  in  the  Ministry  of  Colonies.  Richard  Mowrer, 
born  in  France,  accompanied  me.  I  asked  Mandel  what  he  thought 
would  happen  to  Spain  in  the  event  of  a  European  war.  He  replied 
quite  frankly  that  Germans  and  Italians  in  Spain  would  inconveni- 
ence a  France  that  had  to  bring  African  troops  across  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  the  motherland.  All  anti-appeasers  felt  that  by  saving 
Czechoslovakia  they  would  also  save  the  Spanish  Republic.  That 
constituted  an  additional  reason  for  the  appeasers  not  to  save  Czecho- 
slovakia. I  gathered  the  impression  that  Mandel,  usually  buoyant 
and  confident,  was  depressed.  The  tide  was  going  against  his  kind. 

On  Sunday,  September  it,  French  Foreign  Minister  Bonnet 
dropped  down  on  Geneva  for  a  few  hours.  He  met  Maxim  Litvinov, 
Sefior  Alvarez  del  Vayo,  the  Loyalist  Foreign  Minister,  Nicolas 
Petrescu-Comnen,  the  Rumanian  Foreign  Minister  and  Delegate  to 
Geneva,  and  several  journalists.  Litvinov  told  Bonnet  that  Russia 
was  ready  to  help  Czechoslovakia  with  armed  force.  The  Rumanian 
Foreign  Minister  told  Bonnet  that  Rumania  would  give  transit  rights 
to  the  Soviet  troops  and  weapons.  The  next  day  Bonnet  told  a 
meeting  of  the  French  Cabinet  that  Russia  would  not  help  and  that 
Rumania  opposed  Soviet  transit.  Later  when  it  became  known  that 
Bonnet  had  lied  three  Cabinet  members  threatened  to  resign—but 
did  not.  Hamilton  Fish  Armstrong  states  that  a  faction  of  the  French 
Cabinet  and  the  French  General  Staff  was  believed  to  favor  "strong 
support  of  Czechoslovakia."  He  also  declares  that  the  Soviet  and 
Rumanian  Foreign  Ministers  are  "believed  to  have  reached  an  under- 
standing with  regard  to  the  passage  of  Russian  troops  through  Ru- 
mania in  case  of  a  general  war."  The  London  Times  correspondent 
in  Geneva  telegraphed  his  paper  that  "in  case  of  aggression  against 
Czechoslovakia  neither  Soviet  Russia  nor  Rumania  would  remain 
neutral."  Nevertheless,  Bonnet  gave  the  Cabinet  the  exactly  oppo- 
site impression  because  the  prospect  of  Soviet  aid  might  cause  the 
entire  appeasement  structure  to  totter. 

I  had  snatches  of  conversations  with  Litvinov  in  the  League  cor- 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  561 

ridors  during  the  sessions,  but  on  September  16,  he  received  me  for 
a  real  talk.  I  inquired  particularly  after  his  opinion  of  what  might 
happen  to  Spain  if  a  European  war  broke  out.  He  said  he  hoped  the 
French  would  have  enough  sense  to  send  immediate  help  to  the  Loy- 
alists and  that  England  would  do  likewise.  We  discussed  this  for  a 
while,  but  then  he  brushed  it  all  aside  with  one  of  his  usual  gruff 
explosions,  "All  this  is  not  realistic,"  he  said.  "There  will  be  no  war 
now.  They  have  sold  out  Czechoslovakia."  He  had  a  way  of  smil- 
ing which  showed  his  bitter  contempt.  "I  know  the  Chamberlains," 
his  smile  signified. 

Nevertheless,  I  pursued  the  matter  further  and  asked  what  Rus- 
sia would  do  if  war  came  over  Czechoslovakia.  He  declared  that 
the  Poles  would  not  grant  transit  to  the  Red  Army  because  they 
feared  social  complications.  They  could  not  allow  armed  workers 
and  peasants,  Litvinov  explained,  to  pass  through  Polish  areas  in 
which  Polish  and  Ukrainian  workers  and  peasants  were  oppressed. 
"It  would  take  us  a  month,"  he  estimated,  "to  force  our  way  through 
Poland  in  order  to  help  the  Czechs.  The  Rumanians,  not  so  hostile 
to  the  Czechs,  will  probably  let  us  pass.  But  the  Rumanian  railroads 
are  poor  and  our  heavy  tanks  would  have  difficulty  on  their  poor 
bridges  and  highways.  But  we  could  help  in  the  air,"  he  added. 

"However,"  he  smiled  again,  "this  is  also  unrealistic.  Don't  you 
say  in  America,  'They  have  sold  it  down  the  river'?  Well,  they 
have  already  sold  Czechoslovakia  down  the  river."  That  was  on 
September  16,  1938,  fourteen  days  before  the  Munich  sell-out  was 
signed.  Diplomats  and  journalists  in  Geneva  changed  their  minds 
many  times  during  those  crazy  pre-Munich  days.  One  afternoon,  de- 
pending on  what  Hitler  had  said  in  his  last  speech,  some  would  see 
war  as  certain.  That  same  evening,  having  seen  the  latest  news, 
they  might  predict  peace.  Even  Soviet  ambassadors  attending  the 
League  sessions  reflected  the  gyrations  of  diplomacy  and  events.  But 
Litvinoy  never  shifted  from  his  conviction  that  there  would  be  a 
sell-out. 

The  sell-out  was  complete,  abject  and  useless. 

The  sell-out  operated  on  Hitler's  well-known  technique  of  "rais- 
ing the  ante.*  In  the  beginning  of  the  crisis,  Hitler's  Henlein  pre- 
sented various  plans  for  Sudeten  autonomy  within  Czechoslovakia. 
On  September  12,  Hitler,  addressing  the  annual  Nazi  congress  at 
Nuremberg  in  the  presence  of  several  pro-Nazi  British  lords  who 
told  him  England  would  not  fight  for  the  Czechs,  went  a  step  fur- 


562      WORLD  CRISIS. AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ther.  "I  demand,"  he  shouted,  "that  the  oppression  of  three  and  a 
half  million  Germans  in  Czechoslovakia  shall  cease  and  be  replaced 
by  the  free  right  of  self-determinatoin.  ...  It  is  up  to  the  Czecho- 
slovak government  to  discuss  matters  with  the  authorized  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Sudeten  Germans.  .  .  ."  The  method  proposed 
was  still  that  of  negotiations. 

So  Hitler  raised  the  flag  of  self-determination.  When  Schusch- 
nigg  had  proclaimed  a  plebiscite  whereby  Austria  might  self-deter- 
mine if  she  wished  to  join  the  Reich,  Hitler  seized  Austria  to  pre- 
vent the  balloting.  What  was  he  doing  in  Spain  if  he  believed  in  self- 
determination?  Did  he  believe  in  self-determination  when  he  an- 
nexed Czechs  and  Slovaks,  the  Poles,  the  Norwegians,  Danes,  Dutch, 
Belgians,  and  French?  Yet  people  in  France  and  England  took 
Hitler  at  his  word  when  he  urged  self-determination  for  the  Sude- 
ten. Hitler  is  the  greatest  liar  in  Christendom.  When  he  needed  the 
excuse  he  inveighed  against  Versailles  in  order  to  win  the  soft  hearts 
of  liberals  and  others  who  were  ashamed  of  the  peace  treaty.  When 
he  needed  it  he  proclaimed  himself  an  anti-Communist  so  as  to  win 
the  capitalist  reactionaries  in  the  democracies.  When  he  needed  it 
he  appealed  to  the  West  as  a  "have-not."  When  he  had  more  than 
Germany  or  any  country  had  ever  had  he  still  wanted  more.  Still 
later  he  lied  about  the  "new  order  in  Europe,"  and  again  about  "the 
revolution."  Hitler  has  tanks,  planes,  guns,  and  words.  He  uses  them 
all  in  the  same  way— to  shoot  down  individuals  who  do  not  defend 
themselves. 

So  now  Hitler  asked  self-determination  for  the  Sudeten.  Accord- 
ingly, Neville  Chamberlain,  aged  sixty-nine,  got  into  an  airplane  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  and  flew  to  see  Hitler  at  Berchtesgaden.  The 
leader  of  the  mighty  British  empire  bowed  to  Hitler  who  drew  his 
conclusions.  That  day,  for  the  first  time,  Hitler's  Henlein  announced, 
"We  want  to  go  home  to  the  Reich." 

Chamberlain  took  this  message  back  to  London.  He  would  delib- 
erate with  his  colleagues.  Meanwhile,  messages  went  from  Berlin  to 
the  Sudetenland  where  the  local  Nazis  forthwith  intensified  their 
riots  and  atrocities.  Hitler  also  stirred  up  Poland  and  Hungary  to 
make  demands  on  Czechoslovakia.  Frightened,  London  and  Paris 
decided  to  capitulate.  At  2.15  A.M.  on  the  morning  of  September  21, 
the  British  and  French  Ministers  in  Prague  routed  Benes  out  of  bed 
and  delivered  an  ultimatum  to  him:  If  Czechoslovakia  did  not  sur- 
render the  Sudetenland  it  would  be  "solely  responsible  for  the  war 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  563 

which  will  ensue"  and  in  any  case  neither  England  nor  France  would 
fight.  Benes  had  to  yield  to  this  diplomatic  atrocity. 

Chamberlain,  back  at  Godesburg,  Germany,  on  September  22,  was 
asked  by  Hitler  if  the  British  and  French  governments  had  in  effect 
agreed  to  the  transfer  of  the  Sudeten  territory  to  Germany. 

"Yes,"  Chamberlain  replied. 

"Es  tut  war  furchtbar  leid?  Hitler  said  sharply,  "aber  das  geht 
nicht  mehr."  "I  am  very  sorry,  but  that  is  no  longer  any  good." 
Hitler,  having  made  sure  that  he  was  getting  all  he  had  asked,  asked 
for  more.  He  wanted  more  than  the  Sudetenland  for  himself  and 
he  wanted  Poland  and  Hungary  to  receive  strips  of  Czechoslovakia. 
He,  obviously,  was  breaking  up  Czechoslovakia.  He  had  become  a 
great  idealist.  Self-determination  for  Germans?  That  wasn't  enough. 
There  must  also  be  self-determination  for  Poles  and  Hungarians 
otherwise  the  rump  of  Czechoslovakia  might  be  too  strong.  Cham- 
berlain was  taken  aback  by  the  deceit  of  Hitler.  Powerful  forces  in 
England  and  France  demanded  the  rejection  of  the  Godesberg  terms. 
Soviet  Russia  offered  to  collaborate  against  Germany.  The  Czechs 
remanned  their  fortifications  on  the  German  frontier.  But  Hitler 
pulled  a  few  mote  drastic  tricks.  He  threatened  war,  world  war. 
(Yet  he  never  ordered  a  general  mobilization.  He  did  not  wish 
to  worry  his  own  subjects.)  Again  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  ac- 
quiesced. And  by  the  Munich  dictat,  which  in  substance  and  pro- 
cedure was  more  cruel  than  Versailles,  he  got  everything  he  asked 
at  Godesberg. 

If  I  were  asked  whether  the  Britain  and  French  should  have  fought 
to  prevent  the  break-up  of  Czechoslovakia,  I  would  reply:  first, 
they  should  never  have  allowed  it  to  come  to  Munich.  That  catastro- 
phe was  the  product  of  earlier  appeasement.  The  Rhineland,  Spain, 
China,  Ethiopia,  the  supine  acceptance  of  Austria's  fate,  the  rebuffs 
to  Russia,  the  British  courtship  of  the  Nazis— these  gave  Hitler  the 
insolence  and  strength  to  stage  Munich.  Second,  knowing  what  the 
totalitarian  Japanese-German-Italian  triangle  had  already  done  and 
planned  to  do,  the  democracies  should  have  been  better  armed  at 
the  time  of  Munich.  Third,  the  anti-German  combination  possible 
at  the  time  of  Munich  was  very  probably  much  stronger  than  the 
combination  which  declared  war  on  Germany  eleven  months  later. 

The  day  before  France  declared  war  on  Germany  in  September, 
1939,  Daladier  said  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  "France  and  Eng- 
land cannot  accept  the  destruction  of  a  friendly  nation  which  would 


564      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

presage  new  enterprises  of  violence  directed  against  them.  Is  this, 
in  effect,  only  a  German-Polish  conflict?  No,  gentlemen,  this  is 
only  a  new  phase  in  the  onward  march  of  the  Hitler  dictatorship 
toward  the  domination  of  Europe  and  the  world."  Quite  right.  And 
every  word  of  this  statement  applies  equally  to  the  Czechoslovak 
crisis. 

U.  S.  Ambassador  Joseph  P.  Kennedy  affirmed  in  a  speech  in  sup- 
port of  President  Roosevelt's  election  for  a  third  term  that,  "if 
Mr.  Chamberlain  had  had  five  thousand  first-line  planes  at  home 
when  he  conferred  at  Munich  we  would  have  truly  seen  'peace  in 
our  time.'  "  This  declaration  carries  an  implied  criticism  of  appease- 
ment by  the  No.  r  American  appeaser.  But  apart  from  that,  why 
did  not  Mr.  Chamberlain  have  five  thousand  planes  at  the  time  of 
Munich?  He  could  have  had  them.  British  factories  were  capable 
of  tiirning  them  out.  The  world  had  for  years  been  full  of  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars.  Ambassador  Kennedy's  son,  John  F.  Kennedy,  has 
outlined  the  partial  reply  in  a  book  entitled,  Why  England  Slept. 
England  slept  because  Chamberlain  was  Prime  Minister  and  Cham- 
berlain was  an  appeaser.  Churchill  and  others  had  continually  urged 
the  establishment  of  a  Ministry  of  Supply  with  special  powers  to 
stimulate  the  production  of  munitions  and  airplanes.  But,  said  Mr. 
Chamberlain  on  May  25,  1938— just  after  the  first  Czech  crisis,  "I 
doubt  very  much  whether  we  would  be  justified  in  asking  for  such 
powers,  or  whether,  if  we  did  ask  for  them  Parliament"  (—whose 
majority  he  controlled—)  "would  give  them  to  us  in  time  of  peace. 
The  analogy  of  wartime  is  really  misleading.  We  are  not  at  war." 
Here  is  Chamberlain's  fundamental  error.  They  were  at  war.  Ger- 
many had  been  at  war  for  years.  Europe  was  at  war.  Chamberlain 
refused  to  see  it.  He  thought  he  could  prevent  hostilities  with  words. 

France  was  even  more  neglectful  of  its  armaments.  France,  to  be 
sure,  lacked  the  powerful  industry  of  Britain  and  Germany.  But  it 
could  make  good  planes  and  it  could  have  bought  good  planes.  Who 
is  to  blame  that  it  did  not? 

Some  answer:  The  Popular  Front,  Leon  Blum.  This  is  one  of 
those  accusations  so  easy  to  make  and  so  difficult  to  prove.  God 
forbid  that  the  accusers  look  into  a  table  of  statistics!  Facts  might 
upset  them.  The  Popular  Front  took  office  under  Blum  on  June  6, 
1936,  and  remained  in  office  throughout  1937.  L£on  Blum  himself 
was  Premier  from  June,  1936,  to  June,  1937,  when  he  was  succeeded 
by  Chautemps.  He  returned  for  a  short  interval  in  1938.  During 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  565 

1938,  the  attack  on  the  Popular  Front  succeeded  in  robbing  it  of 
cohesion  and  strength,  and  Blum's  labor  reforms  were  gradually  whit- 
tled down.  But  the  League  of  Nations  annual  almanacs  show  that 
French  production  rose  during  the  Popular  Front  regime.  Thus, 
the  general  index  of  industrial  production  was  75.2  in  1934,  72.5 
in  1935,  78  in  1936,  81.7  in  1937,  but  76.1  in  1938.  Pig  iron  was  62  in 
1934,  58  in  1935,  63  in  1936,  79  in  1937,  but  61  in  1938.  Steel  was 
65  in  1934,  66  in  1935,  71  in  1936,  84  in  1937,  but  66  in  1938.  Out- 
put rose  during  1937,  which  was  the  real  Blum  year,  and  fell  there- 
after. 

No.  The  trouble  was  not  with  the  Popular  Front  or  with  the 
forty-hour  week.  It  lay  elsewhere. 

Pierre  Cot,  French  Minister  of  Air  in  1936  and  1937,  writes  me, 
"In  1936  and  1937,  France  did  not  buy  a  single  airplane  in  the 
United 'States.  I  simply  bought  patents  for  motors,  etc.  Requests 
to  buy  airplanes  in  the  United  States  were  vetoed  by  M.  Georges 
Bonnet,  Minister  of  Finance." 

The  appeasers  also  sabotaged  production  at  home.  Pierre  Cot  has 
given  me  the  copy  of  an  official  letter  which  he,  as  Minister  of  Air, 
wrote  on  December  6,  1937,  to  Premier  Camille  Chautemps.  In  it 
he  reveals  his  sad  experiences  during  his  eighteen  months  as  Air 
Minister.  He  complained  that  the  budget  of  French  aviation  consti- 
tuted only  twenty-two  percent  of  the  national  defense  outlays  com- 
pared to  thirty-four  percent  in  England  and  much  higher  propor- 
tions in  Germany. 

In  June,  1936,  the  French  government  adopted  a  plan  for  the 
manufacture  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  military  planes  per  year  dur- 
ing the  next  five  years.  In  August,  in  view  of  the  rapid  strides  of 
German  aviation,  this  schedule  was  doubled.  The  Cabinet  agreed  to 
make  the  Air  Ministry  a  supplementary  allocation  of  seven  billion 
one  hundred  million  francs.  The  first  yearly  installment  was  to  be 
one  billion  two  hundred  million  francs.  Cot  received  only  five  hun- 
dred million  francs. 

To  finance  the  expansion  of  aviation  plants,  it  had  been  decided 
by  the  government  to  give  credits  to  industry.  Instead  of  releasing 
them  in  June,  1937,  as  agreed,  they  were  made  available  in  Octo- 
ber, 1937.  But  worse.  These  credits  were  cut  in  half  by  the  Min- 
istry of  Finance.  "In  the  coming  year,"  Cot  wrote  to  Chautemps, 
"we  may  accordingly  expect  a  fall  in  production."  Further:  "The 


566      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

credits  which  I  have  received  will  not  permit  me  to  turn  out  five 
hundred  military  planes  in  1938." 

In  1936-37,  Cot  wrote  in  his  letter,  the  budget  for  preliminary 
work  in  the  aviation  industry— making  of  models  and  industrial  mo- 
bilization—was reduced  1,298,000,000  francs  "or  thirty  percent  of 
the  total,"  In  the  same  period,  other  credits  were  reduced  1,852,- 
000,000  francs.  And  this  while  Goering  worked  at  top  speed. 

Depressed  by  Germany's  supreme  air  effort,  Cot  constantly  pressed 
the  government  to  intensify  airplane  production  and  to  grant  a 
three-billion  credit  for  air  raid  defenses.  But  the  General  Staff  of  the 
army  refused.  On  February  15,  1937,  the  Supreme  Military  Com- 
mission decided  "that  there  is  no  intention  to  modify  or  extend  the 
.plan  for  expanding  the  army  of  the  air." 

Why? 

Daladier,  Minister  of  War  and  later  Premier,  frequently  told 
Pierre  Cot  that  "the  Spanish  War  proved  that  the  role  of  aviation 
remained  very  secondary."  And  Bonnet  said  there  was  no  money  in 
the  exchequer. 

The  chief  evil  in  France  was  neither  financial  nor  military.  It 
was  political  and  psychological.  In  1914,  the  general  staffs  of  all 
armies  were  wedded  to  the  idea  of  the  attack,  "always  the  attack." 
That  was  the  Napoleonic  tradition.  The  Kaiser  began  the  war  by 
smashing  into  Belgium,  the  Russians  by  advancing  towards  East 
Prussia,  and  the  French  and  British,  at  the  first  opportunity,  by 
taking  the  offensive  throughout  1915  and  1916  in  France  and 
Flanders.  Then  the  defensive  stage  of  the  first  World  War  inter- 
vened. The  war  descended  into  the  trench.  France  won.  Victory  in 
1918  through  defensive  strategy  made  the  French  nation  and  general 
staff  trench-minded.  Hence  the  Maginot  Line,  which  was  an  enlarged 
and  improved  trench. 

Germany,  on  the  other  hand,  lost  in  1918  because  it  could  not 
continue  the  offensive.  In  another  war,  success  would  have  to  de- 
pend on  sustained  and  rapid  attack.  That  is  why  the  Blitzkrieg  domi- 
nated German  army  psychology.  While  France  sought  to  develop 
the  most  resistant  steel  and  concrete  for  fortifications,  Germany 
concentrated  on  giant  tanks  and  giant  bombers,  weapons,  par  excel- 
lence, of  offense. 

Even  after  the  outbreak  of  the  second  World  War,  as  Pertinax 
testifies,  the  "Maginot  Credo"  persisted.  He  says,  "Since  the  Magi- 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE,  567 

not  fortifications"— according  to  this  credo— "couldn't  be  captured, 
the  French  government  felt  at  liberty  to  take  its  time." 

Cot  shouted,  More  planes.  Colonel  Charles  de  Gaulle  cried, 
Produce  tanks.  The  appeasers,  the  defeatists,  the  defensivists  replied, 
We  have  the  Maginot  Line.  Besides  we  will  come  to  an  agreement 
with  Germany  and  then  all  will  be  well.  Why  should  we,  in  the 
meantime,  waste  our  precious  francs  on  weapons  that  will  never  be 
used? 

Then,  at  least,  their  opponents  insisted,  extend  the  Maginot  Line 
along  the  Belgian  frontier  to  the  sea.  No,  no,  came  the  answer. 
Whenever  this  question  came  up  in  French  Cabinet  deliberations, 
majority  opinion  felt  that  such  a  prolongation  of  the  Maginot  Line 
would  seem  to  serve  notice  on  Belgium  that  France  had  no.  inten- 
tion of  marching  to  her  defense  in  case  of  a  German  attack.  That 
would  throw  Belgium  into  the  arms  of  Germany.  So  France  built  * 
few  pill-boxes  and  gun  emplacements  opposite  the  Belgian  frontier 
but  left  herself  exposed  to  a  repetition  of  the  traditional  German 
Schlieifen  Plan  which  was  her  undoing  in  May,  1940. 

France  and  England  paved  the  way  to  Munich  by  neglecting 
their  rearmament,  by  surrendering  invaluable  strategic  positions  in 
Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe  to  the  aggressors,  and  by  feeding  Hitler's 
contempt  for  the  democracies.  If  Hitler  himself  had  drafted  a 
scheme  of  Anglo-French  behavior  it  could  not  have  been  more 
pro-Nazi. 

Nevertheless,  the  Western  Powers  should  have  stood  by  Czecho- 
slovakia. 

The  reason  the  British  and  French  gave  for  not  doing  so  was  the 
superiority  of  Germany  in  the  air.  Figures  for  airplanes  have  a  uni- 
versal tendency  to  multiply  themselves  in  the  imagination.  The 
Nazis  consciously  encouraged  this  bad  arithmetic.  The  Nazis  are  the 
best  propagandists  in  the  world  because  lying  with  them  is  a  prin- 
ciple. They  lied  to  Colonel  Lindbergh,  to  General  Victor  Vuillemin, 
chief  of  the  French  air  force  who  visited  Germany  at  Goering's  in- 
vitation, and  to  others.  They  lied  about  the  ten  thousand  first-line 
planes  they  were  supposed  to  have.  They  exaggerated  their  strength 
to  frighten  their  victims. 

In  the  official  organ  of  the  Italian  air  force,  UAla  (Pltalia,  pub- 
lished in  Fascist  Rome,  Signor  Mario  Muratori  printed  an  article  on 
the  size  of  the  German  air  force.  He  put  the  front-line  strength  at 
3,000  and  said  it  would  be  6,000  in  1940-41.  The  German  Essener 


568      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

National  Zeitung,  organ  of  Marshal  Goering,  the  creator  of  Nazi 
aviation,  republished  this  article  on  October  25,  1938— after  Munich! 

When  Premier  Chautemps  returned  from  London  late  in  1937,  he 
told  Pierre  Cot  that  England  was  producing  300  planes  a  month. 
Cot's  letter  to  Chautemps  dated  December  6,  1937,  states  that  ac- 
cording to  the  French  secret  service,  "Deuxieme  Bureau,"  the  British 
Royal  Air  Force  in  the  British  Isles  consisted  of  1,550  first-line 
planes,  and  1,450  second-line  older  machines.  France,  Cot  continued, 
had  at  that  moment  1,350  first-line  planes  of  which  450  were  light 
fighters,  170  medium  bombers,  and  730  heavy  bombers  and  1,750 
other  planes. 

In  1938,  the  French  Intelligence  Service,  according  to  a  letter 
which  I  have  from  Pierre  Cot,  reported  that  the  Nazi  Luftwaffe 
numbered  3,600  front-line  planes.  Only  2,500  of  these,  however, 
were  armed  and  manned.  For  the  others,  Goering  had  no  pilots. 

Thus,  even  if  one  takes  the  highest  figure  for  Germany— 3,600 
first-line  machines— and  compare  it  with  the  combined  Franco- 
British  air  fleet— 2,900— the  discrepancy  is  not  overwhelming. 

But  there  was  also  Czechoslovakia.  Hitler  disclosed  in  an  address 
on  April  28,  1939,  after  he  had  seized  all  of  Czechoslovakia,  that  in 
that  country  Germany  had  come  into  possession  of  1,582  Czech 
planes,  501  anti-aircraft  guns,  2,175  light  and  heavy  cannon,  785 
mine  throwers,  469  tanks,  43,875  machine  guns,  114,000  automatic 
pistols,  1,090,000  rifles,  one  billion  rounds  of  rifle  ammunition,  three 
million  artillery  shells  and  vast  quantities  of  searchlights,  bridge- 
building  equipment,  motor  vehicles,  automobiles. 

How  heartbreaking  it  was  to  the  Czechoslovaks  to  lay  down  all 
these  arms  and  to  abandon,  without  fighting,  their  carefully  con- 
structed line  of  fortifications  just  because  the  British  and  French 
forced  them  to  do  so  before  Munich! 

Since  German  airplane  production  exceeded  the  Anglo-French 
aviation  output,  the  gap  between  the  Nazi  Luftwaffe  and  the  com- 
bined air  fleets  of  France  and  England  was  far  greater  in  September, 
1939,  when  the  Allies  went  to  war  than  in  September,  1938,  when 
they  did  not.  Besides,  Hitler  had  the  1,582  Czech  airplanes.  At 
Munich-time,  they  would  have  been,  for  all  purposes,  Anglo-French 
planes.  Pertinax  said  in  the  New  York  Herald  Tribune  of  Novem- 
ber 24,  1940,  "As  is  well-known,  the  relative  military  power  of 
the  Western  democracies  never  did  increase  in  the  twelve  months 
that  elapsed  between  the  Munich  settlement  of  September  29,  1938, 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  569 

and  the  outbreak  of  the  hostilities.  It  shrank  instead."  He,  like  Cot, 
thinks  it  would  have  been  better  to  go  to  war  in  1938. 

But  it  is  not  merely  a  matter  of  counting  planes,  guns,  and  soldiers. 
Munich  demoralized  France  and  made  it  even  more  defeatist.  That 
applied  to  some  extent  to  England  too.  The  small  countries  of 
Europe  had  less  confidence  in  die  stamina  and  courage  of  the  big 
Western  Powers.  Spirit  can  often  be  weighed  against  planes. 

And  then  this  further  consideration.  If  the  democracies  had  forci- 
bly obstructed  the  vivisection  of  Czechoslovakia  it  is  fairly  safe  to 
assume  that  Poland,  which  went  to  war  with  alacrity  against  Ger- 
many in  September,  1939,  would  have  joined  the  anti-Nazi  coali- 
tion. Not  that  Polish  leaders  were  all  anti-Nazi.  Quite  the  contrary. 
But  Warsaw  had  always  regarded  Germany  as  the  great  foe  and  had 
always  indicated  that  it  would  side  with  France  and  England  if  they 
resisted  Germany.  When  they  appeased  Germany,  frail  Poland, 
foolishly  but  pardonably  obedient  to  Hitler,  swallowed  his  bait  and 
cut  itself  a  slice  of  Czechoslovakia  thus  helping  to  seal  its  own  doom. 
If  Poland  had  not  fought  on  the  Allied  side  in  1938,  it  could  easily 
have  been  kept  neutral  by  Russia.  Moscow  had  warned  it  in  Sep- 
tember not  to  move  against  Czechoslovakia.  It  is  more  than  likely, 
too,  that  Rumania  and  even  Yugoslavia  would  have  joined  the 
Allies. 

In  1938,  Loyalist  Spain  would  have  contributed  its  meager  best 
to  the  Allied  cause.  If  Hitler  and  Mussolini  had  continued  to  sup- 
port Franco  that  would  have  drained  their  resources  for  the  struggle 
with  the  major  powers.  If  the  Loyalists  had  won,  the  Allied  position 
in  the  Mediterranean  would  have  been  immeasurably  improved.  In 
September,  1939,  however,  Loyalist  Spain  was  gone. 

Last,  but  of  course  not  least,  Russia. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  second  World  War,  Soviet  Russia  was 
not  with  the  Allies.  If  anything,  it  was  against  the  Allies.  How  would 
Russia  have  behaved  in  September,  1938?  It  is  always  difficult  to 
make  a  precise  statement  about  something  that  did  not  happen. 
There  is  evidence  from  excellent  sources,  however,  to  support  the 
belief  that  Czechoslovakia  would  have  had  Soviet  aid. 

The  Chicago  Daily  News  of  April  18,  1938,  printed  an  interview 
by  Erika  Mann,  daughter  of  Thomas  Mann,  with  Edouard  BeneS, 
the  former  President  of  Czechoslovakia.  Dr.  Benes  was  then  teach- 
ing at  the  University  of  Chicago,  and  the  News  submitted  Miss 


570      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Mann's  text  to  him  for  approval.  He  gave  it.  Dr.  BeneS  said,  "Russia 
was  faithful  to  the  very  last  moment;  I  knew  that." 

"Dr.  BeneS,"  the  interview  proceeds,  "said  he  was  assured  by 
Russia  that  it  would  have  sent  military  assistance  even  though  France 
and  England  failed  to  do  so." 

But  many  Czech  reactionaries,  not  Benes,  were  afraid  of  this 
very  contingency.  Says  Miss  Mann,  "I  was  told  in  Prague  a  few  days 
before  Munich,  by  persons  belonging  to  the  government,  that  they 
feared  Czechoslovakia,  if  she  offered  resistance  with  Russia's  aid 
alone,  would  have  become  a  second  Spain." 

For  further  reference— Communists  later  argued  that  Russia  should 
not  assist  conservative  Britain  and  France— be  it  noted  that  Moscow 
would  have  been  prepared  to  give  help  to  Czechoslovakia  although 
some  of  the  most  powerful  Prague  leaders  were  so  reactionary  that 
they  preferred  their  country  to  die  without  a  struggle  rather  than 
accept  Soviet  help. 

It  is  known  now  that  several  mighty  squadrons  of  Soviet  planes 
were  actually  standing  on  Czechoslpvak  airfields  at  the  time  of 
Munich.  Litvinov  urged  in  his  speech  at  the  League  of  Nations  on 
September  21,  1938,  and  again  and  again  in  diplomatic  encounters, 
that  England,  France,  and  Russia  enter  into  immediate  military  staff 
negotiations  with  a  view  to  joint  action. 

The  British  Foreign  Office  itself  announced  Russia's  readiness  to 
co-operate.  On  September  26,  three  days  before  Munich,  a  Foreign 
Office  communiqu6  asserted  that  "if,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  made  by 
the  British  Prime  Minister,  a  German  attack  is  made  upon  Czecho- 
slovakia, the  immediate  result  must  be  that  France  will  be  bound  to 
come  to  her  assistance  and  that  Great  Britain  and  Russia  will  cer- 
tainly stand  by  France."  The  French  Foreign  Office  inspired  the 
French  press  either  to  deny  the  authenticity  of  this  communiqu£  or 
play  it  down.  But  it  was  true.  Bonnet  and  Daladier  knew  it  was  true. 
Lord  Halifax  would  not  have  made  that  announcement  without 
Moscow's  consent.  The  British  and  French  would  appease  to  the 
very  end,  and  did,  but  if  nothing  worked  and  Hitler  actually  at- 
tacked, Russia  would  fight.  Hamilton  Fish  Armstrong,  a  keen  and 
careful  expert,  takes  for  granted  that  this  official  British  Foreign 
Office  communiqu6  amounted  to  a  "categorical  pledge"  by  England 
and  Russia  to  back  up  France  and  Czechoslovakia.  He  thinks  that 
"so  solid  a  coalition"  would  either  "have  called  Hitler's  bluff"  or 
quickly  defeated  Germany. 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  571 

For  Stalin,  the  situation  at  Munich  in  no  way  resembled  the  situ- 
ation in  September,  1939.  Germany  was  relatively  weaker  at  Munich. 
Moreover,  Russia's  steadfastness  was  required  in  1938  to  instill  some 
courage  into  the  Western  Powers,  and  she  therefore  felt  inclined  to 
act  first,  even  before  they  did,  whereas  in  1939,  the  Allies  had  guar- 
anteed Poland,  appeasement  was  receding,  and  the  Allies  officially 
assured  Stalin  that  they  would  go  to  war  first.  That  being  the  case, 
Stalin  decided  not  to  go  in  at  all.  If  he  wanted  a  war  which  would 
enfeeble  Germany  he  had  to  participate  in  1938  but  did  not  have  to 
participate  in  1939. 

The  European  anti-German  and  anti-Axis  combination  was 
stronger  at  Munich-time  than  it  would  ever  be  again. 

That,  among  other  reasons,  is  why  Munich  was  such  an  unmiti- 
gated calamity.  It  did  no  good  and  did  a  lot  of  harm.  It  changed  the 
entire  course  of  world  history.  It  marks  the  end  of  an  era.  One 
might  call  the  years  before  Munich  A.M.  and  after  Munich  P.M. 

If,  after  Munich,  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  had  at  least  said,  "We 
have  been  defeated  and  now  we  must  get  busy  and  do  something 
about  it,"  some  of  the  lost  ground  might  have  been  retrieved.  But 
Chamberlain  thought  it  was  "peace  for  our  time."  Then  why  hurry 
rearmament?  Under  pressure  from  Churchill  and  like-minded  Eng- 
lishmen, the  defense  program  was  somewhat  accelerated,  but  com- 
pared with  the  pervading  imminent  menace  it  was  ludicrously  slow. 
Anthony  Eden  and  others  said  so  publicly. 

Daladier  apparently  knew  he  had  betrayed  France  at  Munich. 
When  he  flew  back  frpm  that  fateful  conference  he  looked  down 
as  his  plane  circled  over  the  Paris  airfield  at  Le  Bourget  and,  seeing 
the  immense  crowd  awaiting  him,  he  said  to  Etienne  de  Croy,  a 
French  Foreign  Office  official,  "Us  sont  venu  me  conspuer"  "They 
have  come  here  to  hiss  and  abuse  me."  He  expected  a  hostile  recep- 
tion. He  had  sold  out  France  and  he  realized  it. 

But  Daladier  misunderstood;  the  mob  was  not  there  to  lynch  him. 
It  came  to  hail  him  as  a  hero  returning  from  peace.  His  progress 
through  Paris  in  an  open  auto  with  the  grinning  Bonnet  by  his  side 
resembled  a  triumphal  procession.  Vain,  weak  man,  it  turned  his 
head.  Popular  acclaim  is  a  dangerous  potion.  Daladier  now  concen- 
trated on  retaining  the  adulation  of  the  mass. 

One  raucous  discord  marred  this  vast  chorus  of  praise;  the  Com- 
munists reviled  Daladier  for  his  Munich  role.  They  wanted  him  to 


572      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

resist  Hitler.  That  embittered  him.  At  the  first  opportunity  he  re- 
plied with  an  unusual  and  vitriolic  attack.  It  was  at  the  annual  Radical 
Socialist  Congress  in  Marseilles,  October  28,  1938.  The  significance 
of  his  words  transcended  domestic  policy;  they  gave  a  preview  of 
French  policy  towards  Germany  and  Russia. 

He  said,  "One  party  tells  me  that  it  always  advocated  intransi- 
gence even  .at  the  cost  of  war  and  that  it  disapproved  of  the  negotia- 
tions. That  was  the  Communist  party.  .  .  .  The  violence  and  in- 
transigence of  this  party  have  paralyzed  my  work.  Did  it  not. weaken 
,  the  position  of  France  when  Communist  papers  and  orators  rudely 
attacked  Mr.  Neville  Chamberlain  who  toiled  with  such  admirable 
faith  for  peace?" 

Posters  immediately  appeared  throughout  France  demanding  the 
suppression  of  the  Communist  party. 

At  Munich,  Daladier  went  on,  he  could  not  help  feeling  "that 
there  were  strong  reasons  why  France  and  Germany  should  get 
together."  This  statement,  coupled  with  his  attack  on  the  Commun- 
ists, meant  that  the  French  government  would  persist  in  appeasement, 
would  continue  to  court  Germany  and  would  not  court  Russia.  In- 
deed, Nazi  Foreign  Minister  Joachim  von  Ribbentrop  drove  through 
deserted  Paris  streets  on  December  6,  1938,  and  with  Bonnet  signed 
a  Franco-German  pact  of  friendship.  Munich  had  not  taught  the 
French  that  Germany  was  the  enemy.  Therefore,  they  rebuffed  the 
Russians.  Daladier  often  told  Pierre  Cot,  who  in  Cabinet  meetings 
repeatedly  suggested  the  wisdom  of  better  relations  with  Moscow, 
that  "negotiations  with  the  Russians  would  create  difficulties  with 
Germany  and  England."  "This  argument,"  Cot  writes  me,  "was  al- 
ways taken  up  by  M.  Chautemps."  And,  of  course,  it  was  the  one 
thought  in  Bonnet's  head. 

More  appeasement  after  Munich.  How  Hitler  must  have  laughed! 
What  a  spectacle  for  the  gods!  Germany  getting  ready  for  war  on 
France.  France  appeasing  Germany.  France  signing  treaties  of 
"friendship"  with  Germany.  France  refusing  to  try  for  the-  active 
friendship  of  Russia. 

Was  it  merely  stupidity  and  blindness?  Or  madness?  Or  corrup- 
tion? Pertinax  openly  accuses  Bonnet  of  "sinisterly"  engaging  in  de 
facto  underhand  complicity  with  Nazi  imperialism."  I  do  not  know 
at  all  whether  there  is  any  truth  in  charges  that  a  prominent  appeaser'* 
took  direct  bribes  from  French  bankers  and  others,  Pertinax,  the 
most  honest  and  the  most  capable  French  newspaper  commentator, 


THE  FALL  OF  FRANCE  573 

refers,  in  Liberty,  November  2,  1940,  to  a  former  French  minister 
"who  to  the  knowledge  of  the  competent  services,  had  direct  ex- 
changes with  the  enemy."  These  circumstances  and  the  machinations 
of  such  Nazi  agents  as  Otto  Abetz,  later  Nazi  Ambassador  to  the 
Vichy  of  the  Petain  of  Verdun,  undoubtedly  oiled  the  ways  of  ap- 
peasement. 

The  roots  of  the  problem  nevertheless  ran  much  deeper.  And 
again  it  is  Pertinax,  in  the  same  Liberty  article,  who  touches  the  spot. 
"For  huge  sections  of  the  conservative  classes,"  he  writes,  "Hitler's 
warlike  preparations  receded  far  into  the  background  compared  with 
the  social  danger,  and  newspapers  were  paid  by  German  and  Italian 
agents  to  foster  that  outlook."  These  French  conservatives  feared 
Blum  and  the  Communists  more  than  they  feared  Hitler  especially 
since  to  defeat  Hitler  they  would  have  to  work  hand  in  glove  with 
Blum  and  the  Communists.  Without  the  Communist  party,  or  against 
the  Communist  party— one  of  the  most  powerful  in  the  country- 
France's  war-making  capacity  was  circumscribed.  That  is  why  Da- 
ladier  would  never  have  launched  a  verbal  assault  on  the  Communists 
if  he  had  thought  a  war  imminent.  The  French  conservatives  hated 
the  French  Communists  too  much  to  fight  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
them  for  France.  A  real  alliance  with  the  Soviet  Union  would  have 
given  bourgeois  France  the  support  of  the  French  Communists  in  a 
war.  That  was  another  good  reason  for  preferring  even  an  expen- 
sive compromise  with  Hitler.  Only  after  aU  hope  of  appeasing  Hitler 
was  exploded  by  his  seizure  of  Czechoslovakia  in  March,  1939,  did 
England  and  France  become  serious  about  Soviet  collaboration.  Then 
it  was  too  late. 

Neville  Chamberlain  was  a  sincere  pacifist  on  general  religious 
and  humanitarian  grounds  but  chiefly  because  he  feared  the  effects 
of  a  war  on  the  British  social  system.  Somewhere  in  Gone  With  the 
Wind,  Rhett  Butler  says  that  no  matter  who  won  the  war  the 
South  they  loved  would  perish.  It  did.  Chamberlain  feared  the  death 
of  his  England  in  a  war.  He  appeased  to  prolong  its  life.  He  appeased 
until  even  he  saw  that  Hitler  did  not  wish  Chamberlain's  England 
or  any  England  to  live.  In  France,  the  military  collapse  of  1940  re- 
vealed the  true  visage  of  numerous  Frenchmen  who  had  always  pre- 
ferred a  second-class  Fascist  France  dominated  by  Hitler  to  a  France 
free  and  democratic. 

The  appeasers  were  bad  Englishmen  and  bad  Frenchmen.  Hitler, 
in  the  month  of  Munich,  took  a  chance  on  their  victory  over  true 


574      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  who  were  anti-Hitler  for  reasons  of 
social  principle  and  others  who  were  anti-Hitler  for  imperialistic 
and  nationalistic  reasons.  This  combination  forced  Chamberlain  and 
Daladier  to  declare  war  on  Hider  in  September,  1939.  Hitler  was 
not  sure  that  the  bad  democrats  would  give  him  his  Munich.  Goeb- 
bels  revealed  in  a  speech  on  October  1 1,  1938,  that  "the  Fuehrer  and 
his  advisers  pursued  a  risky  policy.  But  nobody  can  win  a  lottery  if 
he  doesn't  buy  a  ticket.  It  was  a  test  of  nerves  for  the  nation  and 
its  leaders."  There  is  the  story  of  Munich.  Hitler  gambled  on  the 
nervous  collapse  of  the  British  and  French  governments.  His  nerves 
held  longer. 

H.  R.  Bruce  Lockhart,  author  of  British  Agent,  tells  this  story:  A 
Yugoslav  diplomat  once  politely  warned  Hermann  Goering  that 
Nazi  tactics  might  some  day  arouse  the  democracies  into  fighting. 

"Bah,"  Goering  scoffed.  "You  have  only  to  bang  your  fist  on  the 
table.  Then  the  democratic  countries  make  a  few  speeches  in  Parlia- 
ment and  nothing  happens." 

Goering  and  Hitler  and  Goebbels  tried  that  procedure  once  too 
often  and  thrust  the  entire  world  into  war. 

Czechoslovakia  and  France  were  allies.  France  and  England  were 
allies.  Whatever  weakened  Czechoslovakia  weakened  France  and 
England.  If  Hitler's  goal  was  an  attack  on  France  he  would  first 
attack  Czechoslovakia  and  thus  deprive  France  of  an  invaluable 
partner. 

Alone  France  was  no  match  for  Germany.  With  Czechoslovakia 
and  England  it  had  a  chance.  That  is  why  Hider  disliked  the  Czech- 
French  alliance.  That  is  why  he  broke  up  Czechoslovakia.  Yet  France 
and  England  did  nothing  to  save  Czechoslovakia.  Indeed,  they  did 
everything  to  kill  it. 

When  the  second  World  War  came,  Daladier,  Bonnet,  and  the 
rest,  looked  for  fifth  columnists  in  France.  Diplomatic  dwarfs 
pointed  to  unhappy  refugees  as  dangerous  enemies  within  the  walls. 
But  Daladier  and  Bonnet  themselves  were  the  fifth  column.  They 
did  more  than  neglect  to  blow  up  a  bridge  over  the  Meuse  or  at 
Sedan.  They  handed  the  enemy  a  whole  line  of  fortifications,  the 
Czech  "Maginot  Line"  which  was  France's  line  too.  They  presented 
Hitler  with  all  of  Czechoslovakia's  arms  and  arms  factories.  It  was 
treason  on  a  huge  scale. 


34-  Just  Before  Christmas:  1938 

RAYMOND  GRAM  SWING,  radio  commentator,  well-known 
correspondent,  composer,  and  authority  on  Mother  Goose 
poetry— he  of  the  calm  voice  and  worried  countenance- 
dropped  in  on  Geneva  during  the  Munich  crisis.  He  was  en  route  to 
Prague.  We  sat  on  the  hotel's  broad  green  sunny  lawn,  which  lies 
in  a  bowl  below  the  Alps,  and  groused  about  the  stupidity  of  world 
leaders.  Geneva  was  a  rialto  and  caravanserai.  Every  evening  at  the 
Bavaria  Caf£,  diplomats  and  journalists  discussed  and  fretted.  Above 
the  din  and  through  the  smoke,  Robert  Dell  of  the  Manchester 
Guardian,  aged  73,  excelled  all  competitors  in  the  vehemence  and 
acidity  of  his  remarks  against  Chamberlain,  Halifax,  Bonnet,  Da- 
ladier.  Dell  had  grown  up  in  the  tradition  of  the  French  revolu- 
tionary syndicalists  and  until  only  a  few  weeks  before  his  death  in 
New  York  his  temper  was  strong  and  unhampered. 

The  League  of  Nations  itself  did  not  even  take  up  the  question 
of  Czechoslovakia,  a  "member  state."  The  League  was  polite  society 
and  never  handled  dirty  linen.  Every  time  Chamberlain  retreated  in 
the  face  of  Hitler's  bluster,  the  delegates  and  officials  breathed  with 
relief;  it  meant  so  much  less  for  them  to  do. 

Alvarez  del  Vayo,  Pablo  Azcarate,  and  other  Loyalist  leaders  at- 
tending the  League  session  were  disconsolate  in  the  realization  that 
the  battle  of  Spain  was  being  lost  at  Berchtesgaden  and  Godesberg. 
They  were  true  internationalists.  They  fought  Fascism  because  it 
had  assailed  their  country.  They  would  have  fought  it  elsewhere  too. 
That  is  why  an  anti-Fascist  lake  myself  was  as  welcome  in  their 
midst  as  a  Spaniard.  Del  Vayo's  speeches  were  patriotic  and  at  the 
same  time  universal. 

At  League  meetings  delegates  tried  hard  to  kill  time  with  dignity. 
They  waited  till  others  elsewhere  made  the  big  decisions  on  Czecho- 
slovakia and  Spain.  It  was  a  humiliating  spectacle.  The  delegates  felt 
like  dry  leaves  in  the  diplomatic  storm.  No  will  of  their  own,  no 
color,  no  life.  Then  suddenly  a  dynamo  was  turned  on.  A  voice 
spoke  with  power,  pride,  and  fight.  The  voice  of  Spain.  The  vo;ce 

575 


576      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

of  Negrin.  He  had  come  from  conducting  the  war.  He  was  dressed 
in  cutaway  and  striped  trousers,  a  cultured,  urbane  scholar  and 
gentleman.  Yet  even  the  blase  Assembly  of  the  League,  with  de 
Valera  presiding,  recognized  Negrin  as  Spanish  Militiaman  No.  i, 
and  the  Latin  American  delegates  especially  thrilled  to  his  words. 

He  made  a  plea  for  Spain.  But  he  also  offered  a  plan  for  justice. 
The  Loyalist  government  was  sending  home  the  members  of  the 
International  Brigade  and  all  foreigners  in  its  service.  It  invited  the 
League  to  dispatch  a  commission  to  count  them  as  they  left  Spain 
and  to  confirm  the  fact  that  none  remained.  The  Loyalists  would  do 
this  no  matter  what  Franco  did.  But  they  hoped  their  action  would 
induce  the  powers  to  insist  on  a  similar  withdrawal  of  the  Germans 
and  Italians  in  Spain. 

Needless  to  say,  Franco  did  not  respond,  nor  did  the  powers.  But 
the  International  Brigade  was  disbanded.  When  its  men  bade  fare- 
well to  Spain  they  left  behind  them,  to  lie  forever  in  Spanish  soil, 
some  of  the  finest  sons  of  our  tormented  modern  age.  They  had 
known  what  it  was  all  about.  They  had  known  that  they  would  get 
nothing  out  of  it.  "The  manner  of  their  death  was  the  crowning 
glory  of  their  lives."  Those  who  came  back  can  be  proud  that  they 
were  able  to  see  when  the  rest  were  blind  and  that  they  acted  under 
no  compulsion  except  that  of  inner  conviction  and  devotion  to  a 
good  cause.  The  Brigade's  life  stands  as  an  untarnished  epic. 

The  official  report  of  the  League  of  Nations  Commission  sent  to 
Spain  stated  that  on  January  12,  1939,  when  it  finished  its  labors,  it 
had  counted  12,673  foreigners  in  the  service  of  the  Loyalists!  This 
number  included  male  and  female  nurses  and  doctors,  foreign  per- 
sonnel in  units  other  than  the  International  Brigade,  and  more  than 
3,000  wounded  Internationals.  The  effective  soldiers  in  the  Interna- 
tional Brigade  when  Negrin  spoke  at  Geneva  thus  numbered  ap- 
proximately 7,000. 

About  40,000  foreigners  entered  Spain  during  the  war  to  join  the 
International  Brigade.  Of  those  no  less  than  3,000  were  from  the 
United  States.  I  estimate,  roughly,  that  almost  half  the  Americans 
were  killed  in  action  or  died  from  wounds  received  in  action.  The 
percentage  of  casualties  for  the  entire  Brigade  was  high  because  in 
the  beginning  of  the  war  they  bore  the  brunt  of  the  fighting  while 
the  Loyalists  trained  Spaniards  for  the  army. 

Sir  Arnold  Wilson,  M.P.,  wrote  in  the  London  Observer  of 
October  23,  1938,  that  Franco  had  captured  50,000  foreign  prisoners 


JUST  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS:  1938  577 

of  whom  25,000  were  French.  Since  he  had  been  my  neighbor  at 
dinner  a  few  months  back  I  sent  him  a  letter  saying  these  figures 
were  impossible  and  asking  for  his  source.  He  mailed  me  a  Franco 
throw-out  published  in  England  which  stated  that  "over  47,000  are 
foreigners  and  of  those  more  than  half  are  French."  Sir  Arnold 
added  three  thousand  for  good  measure.  Franco  could  not  have  taken 
more  foreigners  than  ever  entered  the  Loyalist  army.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Franco  has  now  released  all  his  foreign  prisoners— with  the 
possible  exception  of  a  dozen.  Their  total  was  several  hundred,  cer- 
tainly under  one  thousand. 

I  had  had  some  awkward  experiences  at  the  front  and  in  bombings 
in  Spain  and  escaped  without  a  scratch.  But  in  Geneva,  during  the 
Munich  month,  I  was  playing  tennis  one  afternoon  when  a  ball  hit 
my  right  eye  and  injured  the  cornea.  The  oculist  told  me  not  to 
read,  not  to  move,  not  to  bathe,  not  to  get  excited,  and  to  stay  in 
bed.  And  this  was  a  week  before  Munich.  The  Vayos  lent  me  their 
radio.  A  girl  friend  came  in  to  read  the  French  papers  to  me  and 
another  to  read  the  English  press,  and  friendly  colleagues  telephoned 
regularly  to  give  me  the  news.  I  missed  the  smoke,  gossip,  and  noise 
of  the  Bavaria. 

On  September  27,  Geneva  was  blacked-out.  Chamberlain,  speaking 
over  the  radio  that  evening,  had  sounded  as  if  he  were  weeping. 
"How  horrible,  fantastic,  incredible  it  is  that  we  should  be  digging 
trenches  and  trying  on  gas  masks  here  because  of  a  quarrel  in  a 
far-away  country  between  people  of  whom  we  know  nothing!" 
What  a  statement  from  a  British  statesman!  England's  great  leaders  of 
the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  must  have  revolved  in  their 
graves.  (Did  Chamberlain  know  more  about  Poland  a  year  later?) 
He  was  resolved  not  to  fight.  He  begged  Hitler  not  to  fight. 

Throughout  the  month  of  October,  1938,  all  Europe  suffered 
from  a  "hangover."  It  was  the  morning  after  the  Munich  before. 
Europe  smelled  like  a  noisome  swamp.  People  like  Edgar  Mowrer 
and  myself  who  had  grown  attached  to  Europe  from  years  of  life 
with  it  got  together  and  simply  mourned.  We  said  it  was  no  use 
staying  abroad  any  longer.  Europe  was  entering  a  hideous,  dark  age. 

When  my  eye  healed,  I  went  down  to  Spain.  By  a  gigantic  ex- 
penditure of  materials  and  men,  Franco  had  driven  the  Loyalists  back 
over  the  Ebro.  Bombs  fell  daily  and  nightly  on  Barcelona.  Yet  for 
some  reason  Spain  seemed  healthier  than  the  rest  of  the  worlcLRe- 


578      WORtD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

publican  Spain  stood  and  took  it.  The  others  groveled  before  the 
Fascist  tyrants.  Spain  was  a  light  in  the  universal  gloom.  But  the 
light  was  soon  to  go  out.  It  is  hard  to  take  it  for  two  and  a  half 
years.  President  Azafia,  weakest  of  Loyalist  chiefs,  nevertheless  re- 
flected the  spirit  of  Spain  in  a  phrase,  "The  important  thing  is  to  be 
right."  But  how  many  outside  Spain  cared  about  that? 

The  end  of  November,  1938.  "Do  your  Christmas  shopping  early," 
Americans  were  being  told.  "Gifts  for  HIM,"  the  stores  advertised. 
Barcelona  was  getting  gifts  from  HIM,  from  Benito  Mussolini.— 
Sunday:  Good  Barcelona  Catholics  had  gone  to  church.  In  the  pre- 
vious week  the  city  had  been  bombed  forty  times.  They  prayed 
for  some  peace  and  good  will.  Then  the  sirens  sounded  and  the 
bombers  came,  and  they  cursed  HIM. 

Wednesday  morning:  During  the  night  two  raids  had  taken  place, 
they  told  me.  I  slept  through  one.  But  an  anti-aircraft  gun  on  a  roof 
near-by  had  pumped  so  insistently  in  the  second  attack  that  I  awoke 
and  put  on  a  robe  and  went  downstairs  into  the  lobby.  I  slept  late  in 
the  morning,  came  down  for  substitute  coffee  and  dry  rolls  and 
then  walked  out,  coadess,  into  the  bright  warm  sun  of  the  boule- 
vard. Nobody  looked  up.  If  the  planes  came,  they  came.  Faces  were 
haggard  but  relaxed.  Girls  laughed  and  soldiers  on  leave  flirted.  Sud- 
dently,  the  siren.  Unless  you  are  hit,  the  siren  is  much  the  worse 
part  of  an  air  raid.  I  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  hotel.  The  invading 
bombers  were  behind  us  and  we  could  not  see  them.  We  could  only 
hear  the  anti-aircraft  guns  booming  overhead.  But  the  people  across 
the  street  could  see  the  squadron,  and  I  watched  the  raid  through 
their  reactions.  They  hung  from  balconies  and  out  of  windows  cran- 
ing their  necks  and  making  excited  exclamations.  Presently  they  be- 
gan to  point.  They  waved  their  fists  in  evident  pleasure.  A  group  of 
us  rushed  across  the  broad  Paseo  de  Gracia.  "See  it,"  they  said  to  us, 
"see,  there  are  five  and  one  is  lagging  behind.  It  has  been  hit."  The 
Spaniards  pranced  and  forgot  about  their  safety.  The  eyes  of  one 
young  fellow  were  almost  popping.  The  evening  communique  said, 
"One  bomber  visibly  lost  height  and  speed  and  may  have  descended 


at  sea." 


Barcelona  had  had  many  months  of  air  murder.  But  it  still  thrilled 
to  the  discomfiture  of  the  enemy.  Many  people  never  went  into  an 
underground  shelter.  Except  to  inspect  them,  I  was  never  in  one 
during  the  entire  war  period.  The  Spaniards  were  so  frivolous  and 
so  eager  to  see  the  bullfight  of  the  air  that  the  government  issued 


JUST  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS:  1938  579 

instructions  to  ministers  and  important  officials  threatening  reprisals 
if  they  did  not  betake  themselves  to  a  shelter  the  moment  an  alarm 
sounded.  The  War  Office  had  a  shelter  equipped  with  telephone, 
electric  light  from  an  independent  motor,  desk,  chairs,  and  other 
conveniences,  and  the  minister  could  descend  into  it  by  special  ele- 
vator from  his  private  office. 

The  five  bombers  disappeared  out  to  sea,  and  ambulances,  clang- 
ing fiercely,  dashed  by  to  the  scenes  where  the  bombs  had  fallen. 
The  wartime  grapevine  was  perfect,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  knew 
at  the  hotel  that  a  4Oo-pound  bomb  had  hit  the  Via  Durutti.  Several 
correspondents  drove  to  it.  Not  more  than  five  minutes  had  elapsed 
from  the  time  the  bomb  crashed.  A  police  cordon  surrounded  the 
area.  Women  were  sweeping  up  the  splintered  glass  into  neat  piles. 
A  fire-engine  ladder  rested  against  a  third-floor  window,  and  firemen 
were  carrying  down  wounded  and  dead.  The  rungs  were  slippery 
with  blood.  One  room  in  another  building  had  been  exposed  to  view 
when  its  front  wall  fell  in  bits  to  the  pavement;  a  dressmaker's 
fitting  figure  was  whole  and  upright;  a  picture  remained  hanging; 
a  child  had  been  killed. 

We  drove  to  the  morgue.  Two  Englishmen  with  us  squeamishly 
refused  to  go  in  unless  the  Swedish  woman  in  our  group  stayed  out. 
She  withdrew.  Stretchers  red  with  blood  lined  the  courtyard.  We 
brushed  past  the  stockinged  feet  of  a  dead  woman.  Two  children 
about  five  years  old  lay  on  an  inclined  plane  covered  with  tin.  The 
little  boy  had  on  a  polka-dotted-blouse.  An  attendant  in  white  apron 
moved  one  finger  to  the  right  and  left  indicating  that  these  were  not 
victims  of  today's  bombing.  "They've  been  there  for  three  days," 
he  said.  Nobody  had  claimed  them.  He  beckoned  us  into  a  deeper 
chamber.  It  was  dimly  lighted.  The  dead  lay  side  by  side  on  a  stone 
floor.  Assuming  that  we  were  in  search  of  relatives  he  lit  his  cigarette 
lighter,  stopped  and  threw  a  few  rays  on  the  face  of  the  victim. 
Where  the  body  was  headless  or  the  face  smashed  back  into  the 
skull  beyond  recognition  he  tried  to  bring  the  light  on  a  conspicuous 
article  of  clothing.  Each  body  had  a  number.  The  last  number  was 
thirty-nine.  Thirty-nine  dead  in  a  single  morning  raid.  One  girl,  as 
far  as  I  could  see,  was  intact.  Her  face  now  had  a  greenish  pallor. 
She  was  a  Catalan  beauty  and  twenty  minutes  ago  soldiers  home  from 
leave  and  men  out  on  a  stroll  had  probably  called  her  "guapa"  and 
flirted  with  her.  Another  girl's  stockingless  legs  had  been  broken  be- 
low the  knees  and  above  the  ankles.  A  man  in  a  cheap  brown  suit 


580      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

with  his  thighs  shattered.  An  attendant  entered  carrying  in  front  of 
him  a  shallow  wicker  basket;  its  contents  had  been  a  human  being  this 
morning.  Number  forty. 

These  victims  of  Rome  had  left  their  homes  to  go  to  work,  to 
shop,  to  go  to  school,  or  to  pay  a  friendly  visit.  Their  families  would 
not  miss  them  until  the  evening.  We  went  back  into  the  street.  The 
same  sort  of  people  were  going  about  their  business,  carrying  food 
bundles,  gossiping  on  corners,  smiling,  flirting.  Before  long  they 
might  be  stretched  out  on  the  marble  slabs  of  the  morgue.  And  we 
too.  Civilization. 

I  spent  the  morning  with  the  two  Englishmen.  One  was  the  brother 
of  a  member  of  the  Chamberlain  government,  and  the  other  a  Con- 
servative party  Parliamentary  candidate  named  Michael  Weaver.  In 
May,  they  had  spent  three  weeks  in  Franco  territory.  "This  morn- 
ing," they  announced  when  we  left  the  morgue,  "has  made  us  pro- 
Loyalists."  Weaver  went  back  to  England  and  made  propaganda  for 
the  Republic.  The  alternative  would  have  been  to  support  and  love 
the  regimes  that  had  sent  those  innocent  men  and  women  into  the 
morgue.  Many  Britons  did  that. 

This  raid,  the  government  announced,  had  lasted  three  minutes. 
Forty  dead  in  three  minutes.  A  second  raid  at  12.45  P.M.  A  third  at 
7.20  P.M.  That  day  alone— 325  dead  and  several  hundred  wounded. 
Throughout  the  night  there  were  so  many  sirens  that  I  did  not  know, 
lying  in  bed,  whether  they  were  coming  or  going.  Breakfast  the  next 
morning.  The  planes  attacked  twice  again.  Eleven  raids  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  This  was  unusual.  It  was  November  23,  and  Neville 
Chamberlain  was  due  in  Paris  that  day  to  discuss  Spain  with  Da- 
ladier,  Mussolini  wished  to  make  himself  felt  in  those  Paris  discus- 
sions. "I  will  dictate  the  outcome  of  the  Spanish  struggle,"  Musso- 
lini was  saying.  But  he  did  not  say  it  in  a  diplomatic  note;  he  said 
it  with  bombs,  and  325  persons  were  stretched  on  marble  slabs. 

That  evening  I  dined  at  the  Ritz  with  the  League  of  Nations  Com- 
mission which  was  evacuating  the  International  Brigaders.  A  bellboy 
brought  in  two  objects  and  showed  them  to  the  members  of  the  com- 
mission: one,  a  part  of  an  Italian  bomb,  two,  the  time-delay  fuse  of 
an  anti-aircraft  gun  stamped  with  Russian  letters.  Both  influenced 
Spanish  domestic  politics. 

On  every  visit  to  Spain,  I  went  to  see  Luis  Araquistain  and  his 
wife  Trudi.  Both  were  violently  anti-Negrin  and  pro-appeasement, 
but  somehow  we  got  along  well. 


JUST  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS:  1938  581 

Araquistain,  Negrin,  and  del  Vayo  had  been  gay  young  men  to- 
gether and  had  frequented  the  Madrid  night  clubs  and  cabarets. 
Araquistain,  I  think,  could  never  rid  his  mind  of  this  memory,  and 
he  never  thought  highly  of  Negrin.  How  could  a  Lothario  conduct 
a  war?  It  was  like  saying,  "That  fellow  can't  be  a  good  surgeon.  I 
remember  him  when  he  wet  his  diapers."  Negrin  had  been  a  frivo- 
lous youth  and  was  all  the  more  serious  now. 

Araquistain  and  del  Vayo,  brothers-in-law,  had  worked  closely 
with  Caballero  when  he  was  the  undisputed  leader  of  the  Spanish 
workers.  Araquistain  always  considered  himself  del  Vayo's  superior. 
He  swung  a  mighty  pen.  Del  Vayo  was  the  better  orator,  despite  his 
teeth.  Araquistain  had  been  Ambassador  to  Berlin;  del  Vayo,  Am- 
bassador to  Mexico.  But  when  Caballero  became  Prime  Minister  in 
September,  1936,  he  appointed  del  Vayo  Foreign  Minister  and  Ara- 
quistain Ambassador  to  Paris.  Trudi  was  with  her  sister,  Luisy  del 
Vayo,  in  Biarritz  when  this  news  reached  them  and  Trudi  was 
shocked;  del  Vayo  would  be  Araquistain's  boss.  Araquistain  never- 
theless took  the  job  and  did  it  well.  When  Caballero  fell,  Araquistain 
quit  in  protest,  and  thereafter,  throughout  the  civil  "war,  he  was  un- 
employed. Able  men  were  few.  He  sulked  and  did  not  serve  the 
cause.  I  never  understood  that  and  said  so  each  time  I  saw  him  and 
Trudi. 

Our  meetings  always  followed  the  same  pattern:  they  would  say  I 
had  had  Araquistain  appointed  to  Paris.  "Yes,  you  and  Marcel  Rosen- 
berg," Trudi  would  emphasize  with  a  beautiful  smile.  I  invariably 
protested;  I  was  not  even  in  Spain  when  the  appointments  were 
made!  I  gave  them  my  opinion  of  the  real  reason;  Prieto  and  Ara- 
quistain could  not  bear  the  sight  of  one  another.  Prieto  was  too  im- 
portant to  keep  out  of  Caballero's  Cabinet.  Therefore  Araquistain 
had  to  stay  out.  They  did  not  refute  this  interpretation.  It  was  com- 
mon knowledge. 

Trudi  and  Luisy  no  longer  spoke  to  one  another.  Once  they  met 
at  a  dressmaker's  in  Barcelona.  They  kissed  one  another  and  cried 
but  did  not  talk.  Both  of  them  would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  the 
Loyalist  cause,  and  they  still  loved  each  other.  But  party  politics  had 
torn  them  apart.  I  was  very  welcome  in  both  households  because  I 
could  tell  Trudi  about  Luisy  and  Luisy  about  Trudi.  Each  wanted 
to  know  everything  about  the  other-  The  children  visited  their 

aunts. 
Then  Araquistain  used  to  say  to  me  that  I  had  helped  to  over- 


582      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

throw  Caballero!  I  was  sick  with  arthritis  in  the  Hotel  Mayflower 
in  New  York  when  it  happened.  I  could  scarcely  have  done  it  had 
I  been  well  in  Valencia.  Because  of  my  access  to  key-men  in  Spain 
and  Moscow,  people  attributed  to  me  powers  and  designs  which  I 
did  not  have.  My  contacts  enriched  my  life.  I  cultivated  those  con- 
tacts zealously  and  refrained  from  spoiling  them  by  indiscretions  or 
boasts.  My  experiences  with  men  of  stature  helped  me  grow  and  I 
look  back  on  them  with  great  pleasure  and  gratitude.  I  think  I  en- 
joyed the  confidence  of  Communists,  non-Communists,  and  anti- 
Communists  because  I  resisted  party  cliches  and  narrow  loyalties. 
There  is  nothing  heavier  than  a  party  card  and  I  never  carried  one. 
Araquistain  was  violently  anti-Communist.  But  his  denunciations 
of  the  "Reds"  sounded  like  love  hymns  when  Trudi  launched  into  an 
anti-Communist  tirade.  They  argued  that  Moscow  was  prolonging 
the  war  in  Spain.  They  wanted  it  to  end.  How?  Would  you  sur- 
render? Would  you  beg  Mussolini  and  Hitler  for  a  truce?  They  did 
not  know  how;  it  was  not  in  their  hands.  But  once  they  had  had  a 
plan.  To  wit:  When  Araquistain  was  ambassador  in  Paris,  he  em- 
ployed an  intermediary  named  Shapiro  to  approach  Hjalmar  Schacht, 
the  Nazi  financier,  with  a  view  to  buying  Hitler  out  of  Spain.  The 
Loyalists  would  pay  Germany  and  Italy  several  hundred  million  dol- 
lars to  get  out.  L6on  Blum  also  knew  of  the  scheme  and,  according 
to  Araquistain,  approved  it.  I  always  thought  it  was  childish  and  told 
them  so.  Regimes  bent  on  world  conquest  cannot  be  bribed  with 
cash.  They  were  not  even  bribed  with  Abyssinia,  Spain,  Austria, 
Czechoslovakia,  Albania,  Memel,  and  Manchuria.  They  want  more, 
more,  more. 

The  Araquistains'  son  Finki  worked  as  a  physician  in  the  big 
Barcelona  hospital.  He  invited  me  to  visit  it.  I  entered  a  room  occu- 
pied by  a  single  patient.  He  had  thick,  shining  black  hair— Spanish 
hair— then  two  eyes  without  expression,  a  nose  and  an  upper  lip. 
Below  the  upper  lip  was  a  gaping  red  hole.  The  entire  mouth  and 
lower  jaw  had  been  shot  away  by  an  explosive  bullet  in  the  Ebro 
battle.  When  you  see  something  like  that  you  know  what  war  means 
and  you  do  not  make  up  your  mind  lightly  about  wanting  your 
country  to  go  to  war.  This  man  could  neither  talk,  smile,  smoke  nor 
eat.  He  would  undergo  plastic  surgery.  Trudi  Araquistain's  London 
friends  had  contributed  very  expensive  and  modern  surgical  equip- 
ment to  this  institution.  In  another  room,  a  doctor  was  dressing  a 


JUST  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS:  1938  583 

wound:  shrapnel  had  torn  away  the  soldier's  nose.  Everywhere  I  saw 
hideous  human  faces  without  cheeks,  without  chins,  without  eyes. 

The  hospital  cared  for  2,000  patients.  A  corporal  wounded  at 
Teruel,  in  December,  1937,  still  lay  there  helpless  in  December,  1938. 
His  left  leg  had  been  amputated  up  to  the  hip  and  the  stump  was 
gangrenous.  The  doctor  said  it  had  to  be  exposed  to  the  air.  Many 
other  amputations  were  due  to  feet  freezing  in  the  battle  of  Teruel; 
Loyalist  soldiers  in  rope-soled  canvas  shoes  had  fought  in  the  moun- 
tain ice  and  snow  for  days  without  relief.  In  the  corridor  a  man  with 
broad  shoulders  and  big  frame  was  learning  to  walk  again.  He  had 
lost  both  legs.  I  thought  of  myself  in  such  a  situation;  how  would  I 
feel?  The  specialist  told  me  that  legless  and  armless  men  developed 
neuroses.  The  legless  men  sometimes  refused  to  leave  their  beds.  The 
armless  men  looked  darkly  into  a  future  where  they  would  have  to 
be  fed,  clothed,  and  taken  to  the  lavatory. 

I  was  in  New  York  for  Christmas  and  peace  and  good  will. 


35-  The  Death  of  a  Nation 

I  SPOKE  on  Russia  at  Ford  Hall,  Boston,  on  January  i,  1939,  and 
began  the  year  auspiciously  by  surprising  both  Trotzkyists  and 
Stalinites.  "FISCHER  SHOCKS  FAITHFUL  BY  SWING  FROM  STALIN 
LINE,"  the  Trotzkyist  Socialist  Review  said  in  a  crudely  sensational 
headline.  The  story  announced  that  I  had  "developed  a  new  orienta- 
tion." It  recorded  that  when  a  member  of  the  audience  asked  me  why 
the  Soviet  government  did  not  admit  refugees  from  Hitler-ruled 
countries,  I  replied,  "I  have  not  heard  a  satisfactory  explanation  why 
the  Soviet  government  does  not  admit  them."  I  was  asked  about  the 
Moscow  trials.  I  replied,  "I  do  not  approve  of  everything  that  is 
going  on  in  the  Soviet  Union."  I  was  asked  about  the  settlement  of 
Jews  in  Biro-bijan,  the  Far  East  Siberian  territory.  I  expressed  pes- 
simism about  its  prospects. 

"During  the  question  period,"  continued  the  Socialist  Review, 
"Dwyer,  of  the  Daily  Worker,  took  the  floor  and  bitterly  attacked 
Fischer." 

Much  against  her  own  wish  and  mine,  Markoosha  was  still  in  Rus- 
sia. I  had  written  to  Yezhov,  chief  of  the  GPU,  in  May,  1938,  asking 
him  to  allow  my  family  to  leave  the  Soviet  Union.  No  answer.  I  had 
spoken  to  Litvinov  about  it  in  Geneva  in  September,  1938.  He  said 
he  could  do  nothing  and  advised  me  to  write  to  Stalin.  I  wrote  to 
Stalin,  by  registered  letter  from  Paris,  in  November,  1938.  He  got 
the  letter.  No  reply.  All  Soviet  channels  were  thus  exhausted.  I  kept 
receiving  letters  and  then  cables  from  Markoosha  in  Moscow  which 
showed  her  mounting  desperation.  I  had  to  do  something  and  quickly. 
Markoosha's  nerves  had  been  under  a  severe  strain.  She  had  applied 
for  a  passport  and  received  a  refusal.  I  was  worried. 

I  knew  that  if  I  asked  the  State  Department  to  intercede  it  would 
act  through  the  United  States  Embassy  in  Moscow  or  get  in  touch 
with  Soviet  Ambassador  Oumansky  in  Washington.  Such  demarches 
could  be  easily  rejected  by  the  Soviets,  and  then  Markoosha  would 
be  in  worse  plight  because  a  foreign  government  had  intervened  on 

584 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  585 

her  behalf.  The  approach  to  the  Soviets  had  to  be  made  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  could  not  be  repulsed. 

On  January  3,  1939,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Eleanor  Roosevelt 
begging  her  to  receive  me  "on  a  purely  private  matter  which  is 
urgent  and  very  important  to  me."  I  got  a  wire  soon  saying  that 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  would  see  me  at  the  White  House  at  four-thirty  P.M. 
on  January  6. 

Mrs.  Roosevelt  had  been  showing  several  visitors  through  the 
rooms  of  the  lower  floor  of  the  house  and  when  they  left  I  could 
hear  her  say  to  the  Chief  Usher,  "Has  Mr.  Fischer  arrived  yet?"  We 
sat  down  on  a  sofa  and  I  quickly  explained  my  family's  predicament 
to  her.  What  impressed  me  most  was  the  way  in  which  she  immedi- 
ately grasped  all  the  implications  of  the  situation.  "The  older  boy  is 
sixteen.  That  means  he  will  soon  be  of  military  age,"  she  remarked, 
for  instance.  She  had  studied  in  Germany  and  lived  abroad,  but  the 
Soviet  regime  was  a  very  distant  phenomenon  to  her  and  yet  she 
understood.  I  felt  grateful  and  warm  towards  her  for  her  instant  and 
profound  human  comprehension.  Mrs.  Roosevelt  said  she  would  do 
what  she  could. 

On  January  18,  I  received  an  urgent  telephone  message  to  call 
Oumansky  at  the  Soviet  Consulate  in  New  York.  He  wanted  to  see 
me.  I  went  over.  We  talked  for  an  hour  about  everything  on  the  . 
map  but  not  about  Markoosha  and  the  boys.  When  I  brought  up  the 
question  he  said,  "Why  haven't  you  mentioned  it  to  me  before?" 

"Listen,"  I  replied,  "if  your  boss  can't  do  anything  why  should  I 
suppose  you  could! " 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "let's  drop  the  subject.  But  tell  me,  why  don't 
you  write  something  about  the  Soviet  Union?"  It  was  the  same 
subject. 

I  told  him  Spain  monopolized  my  attention  and  I  didn't  feel  like 
writing  about  Russia.  He  argued,  coaxed,  and  complimented.  He 
suggested  that  many  Americans  were  wondering  why  I  didn't  write 
about  the  Soviet  Union.  They  waited  for  a  word  from  me  about 
recent  developments.  I  replied  that  I  wouldn't  write. 

"Moscow  will  be  very  interested  to  learn  that  Louis  Fischer  re- 
fuses to  write  about  the  Soviet  Union,"  Oumansky  hinted. 

"You  can  report  anything  you  like,"  I  declared.  I  wrote  nothing. 

The  morning  of  January  21  brought  a  radiant  telegram  from  Mar- 
koosha to  the  effect  that  she  had  been  promised  passports  for  three. 
I  immediately  sent  the  news  to  Mrs.  Roosevelt.  She  wrote  back  sug- 


586      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

gesting  I  inform  her  when  the  whole  family  was  reunited  in  the 
United  States.  (I  did  so  in  May,  and  Markoosha,  George,  Victor,  and 
I  were  invited  for  a  private  dinner  in  the  White  House  with  Mrs. 
Roosevelt  and  the  President.  Eleanor  Roosevelt  would  be  the  first 
lady  of  the  land  even  if  she  were  not  First  Lady.) 

By  cable  I  made  an  appointment  to  meet  my  family  in  London, 
and  sailed  for  England  on  the  Queen  Mary  on  February  10.  Lord 
Lothian  and  U.  S.  Ambassador  Joseph  P.  Kennedy  were  on  board. 
They  spent  much  time  together.  I  had  one  good  talk  with  Lothian. 
We  discussed  many  phases  of  the  international  situation.  He  was  still 
an  appeaser.  I  said,  "After  traveling  through  the  country  for  lectures 
and  talking  to  people  in  New  York,  I  have  the  definite  impression 
that  most  Americans  are  anti-Chamberlain  and  anti-appeasement." 
He  said  he  too  had  traversed  the  country  in  recent  months.  But  he 
had  found  that  the  only  persons  opposed  to  Chamberlain  were  the 
"Jews  and  radicals."  After  the  war  commenced,  when  he  was  Am- 
bassador in  Washington,  Lothian  expressed  the  same  view  to  Maurice 
Hindus.  To  him,  Lothian  said  that  the  only  people  who  disliked 
Chamberlain  were  "radicals,  Jews,  and  lecturers."  There  must  be 
millions  of  lecturers  in  America. 

Lothian  and  I  also  wrangled  about  Spain.  Lothian  said,  "In  April, 
1936,  Bullitt  came  to  us  from  Moscow  and  told  us  that  the  Bolsheviks 
were  preparing  a  revolution  in  Spain." 

I  did  not  inquire  about  the  identity  of  "us."  It  might  have  meant 
the  so-called  "Cliveden  set"  of  which  Lothian  was  a  member— the 
Astors,  the  Observer  and  Times  people,  and  a  number  of  outstanding 
British  aristocrats.  Or  it  might  have  meant  British  official  circles. 
Bullitt,  having  broken  with  Russia  and  switched  to  an  anti-Soviet 
position,  informed  important  responsible  persons  in  England,  accord- 
ing to  Lothian,  that  Moscow  was  preparing  trouble  in  Spain.  When 
the  trouble  came  the  British  appeasers  naturally  concluded  that  it  was 
this  which  Bullitt  had  foreseen.  Bullitt  thus  made  ample  contribution 
to  the  Fascist  victory  in  Spain. 

"There  are  two  answers  to  Bullitt's  statement,"  I  argued  with 
Lothian.  "One  is  that  the  war  in  Spain  was  started  by  Franco  and 
not  by  the  Communists  or  the  Republicans.  In  the  second  place,  if 
the  Russians  had  been  preparing  a  rebellion,  how  would  they  have 
prepared?  They  would  have  shipped  arms  to  Spain.  But  the  fact  is 
that  the  Loyalists  started  the  war  with  no  arms  at  all." 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  587 

Lothian  did  not  say  a  word  in  reply.  He  asked  me  to  come  see 
him  in  London,  which  I  did. 

Two  days  after  my  arrival  in  England,  I  went  to  Harwich  to  meet 
the  family,  en  route  from  Denmark.  They  had  seen  Helsingfors, 
Stockholm,  and  Copenhagen.  The  boys  liked  Helsingfors  especially. 
They  bought  some  good  clothes  there.  Capitalism  didn't  seem  as  bad 
as  it  was  painted  in  Moscow.  Markoosha  was  sad  for  the  friends  she 
had  left  behind.  Her  own  experiences  had  been  more  harrowing  than 
I  suspected.  The  GPU  did  not  like  the  idea  of  her  leaving;  it  resented 
the  necessity  of  opening  a  little  breach  in  the  Chinese  wall  that  sur- 
rounded the  country. 

On  their  third  day  in  England,  George  and  Victor,  age  sixteen 
and  fifteen,  went  to  a  Sunday  afternoon  open-air  meeting  in  Trafal- 
gar Square.  Under  the  statue  of  Nelson,  workingmen  and  others 
gathered  to  advance  the  cause  of  the  anti-Fascist  Popular  Front.  This 
movement  was  led  by  Sir  Stafford  Cripps.  When  the  boys  got  back 
to  our  hotel  room,  they  reported  to  me  about  the  meeting.  In  a  whis- 
per they  said,  "Papa,  the  people  yelled,  'Chamberlain  Must  Go/  " 
They  translated  that  into  their  own  backgrounds;  it  was  the 'equiv- 
alent of  a  demonstration  on  the  Moscow  Red  Square  shouting, 
"Stalin  Must  Go."  No  wonder  they  were  surprised. 

The  next  Sunday,  Trafaglar  Square  saw  another  labor  meeting, 
this  time  for  Loyalist  Spain.  Attlee  and  Herbert  Morrison  addressed 
the  thousands  who  assembled.  The  meeting  adopted  a  resolution  of 
protest  against  Chamberlain's  Non-intervention  policy.  The  Labor 
leaders,  followed  by  bands  and  sympathizers,  then  walked  down 
Whitehall  to  deliver  the  resolution  at  Chamberlain's  residence  in  10 
Downing  Street.  At  this  point,  I  went  back  to  the  hotel,  but  my  kids 
got  to  the  very  door  of  the  Prime  Minister's  home.  Democracy  was 
fun. 

To  tell  the  next  story  about  the  boys,  I  must  first  state  that  I  have 
a  reputation  with  them  for  mischief -making  and  pranks.  We  had 
guests  one  evening  for  dinner.  At  the  end  of  the  meal,  the  waiter 
brought  finger  bowls  with  water  and  a  slice  of  lemon  in  them.  I  put 
my  hand  in  the  bowl.  George  laughed  and  said,  "Just  like  papa." 
This  was  his  first  encounter  with  the  bourgeois  institution  of  wash- 
ing hands  in  lemonade! 

Markoosha  and  the  boys  had  booked  passage  on  the  Queen  Mary, 
sailing  for  New  York  on  April  15.  But  Victor  wanted  the  excitement 


588      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

of  making  the  trip  alone  even  though  he  knew  only  a  few  words  of 
English.  We  let  them  have  most  of  their  wishes.  So  he  went  alone. 
I  saw  him  off  on  the  Queen  Mary  at  Southampton,  put  his  tip  money 
for  the  ship  personnel  in  separate  envelopes,  and  bade  him  a  calm 
farewell.  Friends  met  him  at  the  pier  in  New  York.  Markoosha 
caught  up  with  him  in  New  York  a  fortnight  later,  and  I  caught  up 
with  them  another  fortnight  later. 

On  March  17,  Markoosha  and  I  were  sitting  in  our  London  hotel 
when  Ellen  Wilkinson  telephoned  and  said,  "Chamberlain's  making 
an  important  speech.  D'you  want  to  hear  it?" 

"Yes,  how?"  I  replied. 

"Just  listen,"  she  said.  She  put  her  telephone  to  her  radio  and  I 
sat  for  at  least  half  an  hour  listening  to  an  address  in  Birmingham  by 
Prime  Minister  Neville  Chamberlain.  It  was  important;  it  was  his 
first  step  away  from  appeasement.  On  March  15,  Hitler  had  invaded 
and  annexed  what  remained  of  Czechoslovakia  after  Munich.  This 
violated  Hitler's  own  pledges.  It  shattered  his  oft-repeated  assurances. 
"We  are  not  interested  in  suppressing  other  nations,"  Hitler  said  in 
Berlin  on  September  26,  1938— four  days  before  Munich.  Why  did 
he  say  it?  To  make  Munich  easier.  To  fool  Chamberlain.  "The  Su- 
detenland  is  the  last  territorial  claim  which  I  have  to  make  in  Eu- 
rope," he  declared  in  the  same  speech  for  the  same  reason.  "I  have 
assured  Mr.  Chamberlain,"  Hitler  continued,  "and  I  emphasize  it 
now,  when  this  problem  is  solved,  Germany  has  no  more  territorial 
problems  in  Europe.  We  don't  want  any  Czechs." 

So!  And  now  he  had  taken  all  of  Czechoslovakia.  How  did  Cham- 
berlain react?  The  day  of  the  violent  occupation  of  Czechoslovakia, 
Chamberlain  rose  in  the  House  of  Commons  and  made  a  statement. 
In  the  Birmingham  speech  forty-eight  hours  later— the  one  which  I 
heard  over  Ellen  Wilkinson's  telephone— he  himself  described  that 
first  statement  as  "cool  and  objective."  He  called  it  "a  very -restrained 
and  cautious  exposition."  At  Birmingham  he  apologized  for  it.  "I 
hope  to  correct  that  mistake  tonight,"  he  said. 

The  forty-eight  hours  had  altered  Chamberlain's  reaction.  His 
Birmingham  speech  was  firm,  and  critical  of  Hitler.  But  the  change 
in  Chamberlain  had  been  induced  by  events  near  home;  active  revolt 
brewed  in  the  Conservative  party.  "His  speech  at'  Birmingham  on 
Friday,"  wrote  the  New  Statesman,  "was  a  political  necessity."  Eng- 
lishmen and  upper-class  Englishwomen  picketed  the  House  of  Com- 
mons wearing  cardboard  placards  front  and  back.  The  placards  car- 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  589 

ried  one  word,  "Churchill."  The  press  demanded  Churchill.  The 
Labor  party  demanded  action.  The  people  cried,  "Stop  Hitler." 
Chamberlain  could  not  see  very  far.  But  his  hearing  was  excellent. 
A  politician  thinks  first  about  his  own  political  backing.  Chamberlain 
heard  the  warning.  In  Birmingham  he  bent  to  the  violent  anti- 
appeasement  tempest  that  raged  over  Britain.  The  country  felt  con- 
vinced that  "that  man"  Hitler  would  have  to  be  destroyed  some  day 
and  it  was  better  not  to  wait.  So  Chamberlain  now  asked  "what  reli- 
ance can  be  placed  upon  other  assurances"  by  Hitler?  "Is  this  the 
end  of  an  old  adventure,  or  is  it  the  beginning  of  the  new?"  he  won- 
dered. He  wasn't  sure  yet.  "Is  this,  in  fact,  a  step  in  the  direction  of 
an  attempt  to  dominate  the  world  by  force?"  He  should  have  asked 
a  Nazi  high-school  boy  or  a  newspaper  vendor  on  the  Strand. 
Churchill  had  been  answering  those  questions  for  years. 

Chamberlain,  however,  had  learned.  He  had  learned  that  "we  are 
not  disinterested  in  what  goes  on  in  southeastern  Europe,"  in  the 
Balkans.  He  reminded  Hitler  that  England  would  fight.  He  went  so 
far  as  to  suggest  that  "appeasement"  was  "not  ...  a  very  happy 


term." 


In  a  democracy,  neither  death  nor  birth  is  instantaneous.  An  old 
policy  dies  slowly.  The  pregnant  period  of  a  new  one  is  prolonged. 
The  policy  of  any  government,  sometimes  even  of  a  dictatorship,  is 
like  a  moving  ticker  tape.  The  new  policy  comes  in  when  the  old  is 
still  visible.  For  a  time  both  are  valid.  (Unlike  the  usual  telegraph 
ticker  tape,  the  ribbon  of  policy  may  travel  in  two  directions.) 

When  Chamberlain  spoke  on  March  17  at  Birmingham,  the  ticker 
started  typing  out  a  new  policy.  The  old  policy  had  not  yet  been 
torn  off.  Some  officials  and  some  sections  of  the  public  still  fought 
for  appeasement.  The  type  in  which  the  new  was  printed  seemed 
pale.  But  I  have  a  wider  circle  of  acquaintances  in  England  than  in 
any  other  country,  and  I  felt  certain  that  appeasement  was  on  the 
decline.  "This  year,"  I  wired  to  The  Nation  from  London  on  March 
4,  before  Chamberlain  spoke  in  Birmingham,  "marks  the  end  of  the 
era  of  map-carving  by  blackmail."  After  1939  it  would  be  too  late 
for  more  Munichs.  I  therefore  expected  new  demands  from  Ger- 
many and  Italy  in  1939,  and  since  England  and  France  would  be 
stiffer,  I  expected  trouble.  Where?  "Germany,"  I  cabled,  "is  looking 
westward.  The  Ukraine  has  dropped  out  of  die  headlines." 

Most  observers  predicted  that  after  Munich  Hitler  would  turn 
East.  Drmg  nach  Osten.  I  always  thought  this  an  illusion.  On  Janu- 


590      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ary  30,  1939,  speaking  in  the  Reichstag,  Hitler  demanded  colonies. 
In  Mem  Kampf  he  had  derided  the  idea  of  colonies.  They  had  never 
done  Germany  any  good,  he  stated  correctly.  He  wanted  the  Ukraine 
instead.  But  now  he  turned  westward.  It  was  from  England  that  he 
could  get  colonies.  On  January  30,  likewise,  Hitler  promised  that  "a 
war  against  Italy,  from  whatever  motive,  will  find  Germany  at  her 
side."  This  meant  that  Hitler  would  support  Mussolini  in  an  offensive 
war  too.  Hitler,  departing  from  his  custom,  refrained  from  anti-Soviet 
abuse  in  that  speech. 

It  was  when  France  and  England  awoke  to  the  fact  that  Hitler 
was  aiming  at  them,  and  not  at  Russia,  that  the  ticker  tape  of  appease- 
ment started  moving  out.  Simultaneously,  Moscow  said,  "Hitler  is 
looking  West.  We  can  breathe  more  freely.  We  don't  need  England 
and  France  as  badly  as  before."  Ivan  Maisky,  the  astute  Soviet  Am- 
bassador in  London,  told  me  in  March,  1939,  that  the  Soviet  Union 
was  in  an  "isolationist"  mood.  It  leaned  to  neither  side.  I  could  see 
that  between  the  lines  of  the  Moscow  newspapers  which  I  read  in 
London.  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  had  believed  Hitler's  "anti-Com- 
intern" and  "anti-Communist"  bluff.  Suddenly,  poor  dear  Neville 
Chamberlain  discovered  that  he  was  the  "Comintern,"  that  Hitler 
meant  him.  No  British  Prime  Minister  had  ever  gone  to  a  reception 
in  the  Soviet  Embassy  in  London.  On  March  i,  Chamberlain  did,  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  endlessly  photographed  in  Maisky's  parlors. 

Things  were  happening. 

Hitler  was  turning  his  "attention"— that  meant  his  army— to  Poland. 
Rumors  of  an  impending  invasion  of  Poland  circulated  widely.  Prime 
Minister  Chamberlain  announced  in  the  House  of  Commons  on 
March  31,  1939,  that  if  Poland  resisted  "His  Majesty's  Government 
would  feel  themselves  bound  at  once  to  lend  the  Polish  government 
all  support  in  their  power."  For  England  to  give  such  a  guarantee 
was  a  striking  departure  both  from  precedent  and  from  appeasement. 
The  policy  of  appeasement  was  not  yet  dead.  It  was  merely  dying. 
Attempts  would  be  made  to  save  it.  But  the  guarantee  to  Poland 
showed  how  far  Chamberlain  and  his  Tory  party  had  traveled  since 
Munich,  indeed  since  March  15.  Communists,  Laborites,  Liberals, 
and,  on  the  Right,  imperialists  of  the  Churchill-Amery-Eden-Duff 
Cooper  type  continued  to  press  the  appeasers  to  abandon  the  vestiges 
of  appeasement  and  make  no  more  concessions  to  Hitler,  Mussolini, 
and  Japan. 

I  went  to  Paris,  and  on  April  20, 1  saw  Ambassador  Bullitt  in  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  591 

U.  S.  Embassy  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  He  was,  as  usual,  very 
affable. 

Premier  Daladier  had  warned  the  French  Chamber  of  Deputies 
on  February  24,  "The  next  few  months  or  even  weeks  would  bring 
some  redoubtable  reefs  to  be  faced,  and  peace  would  have  to  be 
defended  with  vigilance."  The  French  were  worried.  The  French 
government  had  great  confidence  in  Bullitt  and  listened  to  his  views. 
He  felt  very  close  to  the  French  government.  He  exercised  much 
more  influence  than  any  ambassador  in  Paris.  Bullitt,  being  the  sensi- 
tive artist,  reacts  to  atmosphere  and  is  influenced  while  he  influences. 

Bullitt  devoted  most  of  his  conversation  with  me  to  an  analysis 
and  praise  of  Daladier.  We  didn't  understand  Daladier  and  under- 
estimated him.  He  had  been  firm  at  Munich.  At  least  in  the  morning. 
The  deliberations  at  Munich,  Bullitt  told  me,  began  with  a  speech 
by  Hitler  -w;hich  was  in  the  nature  of  an  ultimatum.  Daladier  didn't 
like  it  and  left  the  room.  He  said  he  had  not  come  to  Munich  to  hear 
ultimatums.  Goering  went  out  to  calm  Daladier  and  bring  him  back. 
Daladier  resisted.  (In  other  words,  Daladier  grasped  the  terrible  sig- 
nificance of  Hitler's  demand.) 

So  far  Bullitt.  But  in  the  evening,  Daladier  relented  and  surren- 
dered. A  tale  gained  currency  that  Daladier  was  drunk  in  the  eve- 
ning. Some  people  believed  the  story  because  they  knew  that  Daladier 
occasionally  did  get  drunk  in  the  latter  part  of  the  day.  But  Cham- 
berlain was  not  drunk  at  Munich;  he  probably  was  incapable  of  get- 
ting drunk.  Yet  he  surrendered  too,  and  he  played  the  main  appease- 
ment role. 

Bullitt  indicated  in  his  conversation  with  me  that  France  would  be 
firm.  "Louis,"  he  said  to  me,  "why  don't  you  go  to  London  and  tell 
your  British  Labor  friends  to  stop  opposing  peacetime  conscription?" 
In  a  conference  with  Sir  Eric  Phipps,  the  British  Ambassador  in  Paris, 
Daladier  hact  officially  requested  Britain  to  introduce  conscription. 
France  expected  war.  Bullitt  knew  it. 

Three  days  before  my  talk  with  Bullitt,  President  Roosevelt  had 
issued  a  peace  appeal  to  Hitler  and  Mussolini.  "Did  you  see  the  Presi- 
dent's definition  of  Munich?"  I  said  to  Bullitt. 

"No,  where?"  he  replied. 

I  pulled  from  my  pocket  a  clipping  from  the  London  Times  of 
April  17  on  which  I  had  marked  these  words  in  the  peace  appeal: 
".  .  .  international  problems  can  be  solved  at  the  council  table.  It  is 
therefore  not  necessary  to  the  plea  for  peaceful  discussion  for  one 


592      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

side  to  plead  that  unless  they  receive  assurances  beforehand  that  the 
verdict  will  be  theirs  they  will  not  lay  aside  their  arms."  This  had 
been  one  feature  of  Munich;  Chamberlain  had  undertaken  in  advance 
to  give  Hitler  what  he  asked. 

"In  conference  rooms,  as  in  courts,"  Mr.  Roosevelt  continued,  "it 
is  necessary  that  both  sides  enter  upon  discussion  in  good  faith,  as- 
suming that  substantial  justice  will  accrue  to  both,  and  it  is  customary 
and  necessary  that  they  leave  their  arms  outside  the  room  where 
they  confer."  Hitler  had  taken  his  planes,  machine  guns,  and  bombs 
into  the  room  where  he  conferred  with  Chamberlain  and  Daladier 
at  Munich. 

Bullitt  read  the  marked  passage  and  said,  "Yes." 

Munichism  was  on  the  way  out  as  the  official  French  policy,  and 
as  the  official  British  policy.  Bullitt's  attitude  too  had  changed.  With 
customary  felicity  of  phrase,  he  formulated  his  new  attitude  in  a 
speech  on  May  28,  1939,  at  the  American  Legion  monument  in 
Neuilly  Cemetery,  "To  Americans  the  acceptance  of  war  is  a  less 
horrible  alternative  than  the  acceptance  of  enslavement."  And  Czech- 
oslovakia? "We  therefore  understand  and  sympathize  with  nations 
which,  whatever  the  odds,  prefer  to  fight  for  their  freedom  rather 
than  to  submit  to  the  heel  of  the  conqueror."  Bravo!  And  Czecho- 
slovakia? And  Spain? 

Spain  was  finished.  Just  about  the  week  it  died,  Hitler  seized  the 
rump  of  Czechoslovakia. 

Dr.  Juan  Negrin,  Julio  Alvarez  del  Vayo,  President  Azafia,  and 
many  other  Loyalist  leaders  now  resided  in  France  as  refugees— they 
and  almost  half  a  million  more  Spaniards  who  had  fled  from  Catalonia 
shortly  after  Barcelona  fell  on  January  26,  1939.  Franco's  Catalan 
forces  attacked  late  in  December  with  an  unprecedented  weight  of 
arms.  In  his  book,  Freedowfs  Battle,  Alvarez  del  Vayo  recounts  a 
visit  to  the  Catalan  front  which  he  made  with  Prime  Minister  Negrin 
at  the  height  of  the  offensive.  They  held  a  conference  with  General 
Rojo,  Chief  of  Staff,  and  General  Sarabia,  commander.  Negrin  asked 
how  many  rifles  the  Loyalist  army  in  Catalonia  possessed. 

"Thirty-seven  thousand,"  Sarabia  replied. 

.  Thirty-seven  thousand  rifles  for  over  a  hundred  thousand  men.  At 
Igualada,  del  Vayo  records,  two  battalions  of  highly  trained  machine- 
gunners  stood  idle  "for  want  of  a  single  machine  gun  or  rifle." 
The  rebels,  he  reports,  had  from  ten  to  twenty  times  as  many  planes 
as  the  Republic  and  thirty  times  as  many  tanks.  The  disproportion 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  593 

in  all  other  branches  was  no  less  heartbreaking.  No  wonder  Franco 
reached  Barcelona  and  then  the  French  frontier. 

Madrid  and  the  central  Loyalist  zone  still  held.  For  more  than  two 
years  Madrid  had  been  a  crown  on  the  head  of  the  Spanish  Republic 
and  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  Franco.  Suppose  Madrid  and  the  territory 
around  it  could  have  stood  off  Franco  until  September  3,  when  France 
and  England  went  to  war.  Would  France  and  England  have  saved  it? 
Maybe.  Maybe  not. 

The  alternative  was  to  surrender  at  once  to  Franco.  That  meant 
delivering  to  him  many  thousands  of  Republican  heads.  Franco  had 
personally  told  James  I.  Miller,  director  of  the  United  Press,  in  an  inter- 
view printed  in  the  New  York  World-Telegram  of  November  7, 193  8, 
"We  have  more  than  two  million  persons  card-indexed  with  proofs 
of  their  crimes  and  the  names  of  witnesses."  Commented  Mr.  Miller: 
Franco  "revealed  that  the  Republicans  would  not  escape  scot  free 
after  the  war." 

Negrin  and  Vayo  could  not  hand  over  two  million  people  to  the 
Fascist  executioner.  But  Madrid  and  its  hinterland  were  exhausted. 
Thirty  months  of  shells,  bombs,  encircling  peril,  and  hunger!  It  was 
too  much  to  ask  human  beings  to  go  on  when  they  could  see  no 
chance  of  victory. 

It  was  a  cruel  dilemma.  Negrin  and  del  Vayo  hoped,  by  holding 
out  a  little  while  longer,  to  extract  a  promise  of  mercy  and  clemency 
from  Franco  and  to  win  time  for  the  flight  of  those  with  a  price  on 
their  heads.  But  their  slogan  was  "Resist,  resist,  resist,"  and  that  had 
been  the  slogan  from  the  beginning  of  the  war.  The  people  wanted 
peace.  The  Communists  nevertheless  favored  resistance  until  the  end 
of  their  strength.  Negrin  and  del  Vayo  agreed  to  carry  on  in  the 
hope  that,  with  the  intervention  of  the  British  and  French  which 
they  had  requested,  Loyalists  trapped  in  the  central  zone  would  be 
able  to  escape  abroad. 

The  Communists  occupied  a  commanding  position  in  the  central 
zone.  Army  Chief  General  Miaja  was  under  Communist  influence 
and  carried  a  Communist  party  card  though  he  probably  knew  as 
much  about  Communism  as  Francisco  Franco.  Communist  propa- 
ganda had  inflated  him  into  a  myth.  Jesus  Hernandez  served  as  Com- 
munist party  leader  in  Madrid  and  he  wielded  real  power. 

But  the  domination  of  the  Communists  weakened  their  popularity. 
This,  to  me,  was  the  proof  of  the  irrepressible  democracy  of  the 
Spaniards.  As  soon  as  one  group  acquired  a  political  monopoly  in  a 


594      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1?30  TO  1940 

certain  region  it  lost  influence  with  the  people  and  was  booted  out. 
This  happened  to  the  Anarchists  in  the  Aragon  in  1937,  and  now  to 
the  Communists  in  the  Madrid  area. 

From  France,  after  the  Catalan  debacle,  Negrin  and  del  Vayo  flew 
to  Alicante  where  Negrin  phoned  Colonel  Casado,  the  military  com- 
mander at  Madrid.  Casado  said,  "I  have  revolted." 

"Against  whom?"  Negrin  asked. 

"Against  you,"  Casado  replied. 

Negrin  phoned  Valencia,  Murcia,  Albacete,  and  Estremadura. 
They  replied  in  much  the  same  manner.  Miaja  stood  with  Casado. 

Negrin  and  del  Vayo  wanted  no  blood  shed  and  they  flew  back 
to  France.  But  the  Communists  in  Madrid  fought  against  the  forces 
under  Casado.  Individual  Socialists  and  bourgeois  Republicans  also 
opposed  Casado  with  arms.  For  many  days,  men  who  had  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  resisting  Franco  fired  upon  one  another.  The 
few  remaining  Loyalist  planes  dropped  bombs  on  Loyalists.  The 
streets  of  Madrid,  which  no  rebel  had  trod,  ran  with  Republican 
blood.  Victorious,  Casado  and  the  Socialist  leader  Besteiro  surren- 
dered Madrid  to  Franco.  Franco  immediately  took  reprisals.  The  first 
victim  was  Besteiro  who  died  in  a  Fascist  prison.  Casado  fled  to 
London. 

It  was  a  miserable  close  for  a  saga  of  national  heroism.  The  Spanish 
people  rose  to  great  heights  in  the  great  struggle.  It  showed  that  cen- 
turies of  poverty  had  not  killed  its  pride,  honor,  and  self-respect. 
Now  Franco  would  undertake  to  eradicate  these  through  Fascism. 

In  Paris,  after  the  heartrending  final  episode  of  the  Casado-Besteiro 
revolt,  I  had  tea  in  a  Champs  Elys6es  caf 6  with  Trudi  Araquistain, 
Madame  del  Vayo's  sister.  She  approved  of  Casado.  She  was  passion- 
ately anti-Communist.  "Oh,  I'm  sorry  Pasionaria  escaped,"  Trudi 
said  about  the  Spanish  woman  Communist  leader.  "I'm  sorry  she 
wasn't  shot  in  Madrid." 

This  is  a  measure  of  the  bitterness  engendered  among  Spanish  anti- 
Fascists  by  the  fight  against  Fascism.  The  Loyalists  in  exile  now 
entered  upon  the  sad  role  of  6migres.  The  law  of  all  emigrations  is: 
Man  Eats  Man,  Friend  Assails  Friend.  Parties  split  into  fractions, 
the  fractions  into  factions,  the  factions  into  groups,  the  groups  into 
grouplets.  In  the  Daily  Worker,  Andr6  Marty  called  del  Vayo  a 
"wretch"  while  Pasionaria  attacked  Negrin  from  Moscow  for  his 
pro-British  sentiments.  More  conservative  Loyalists  criticized  Negrin 
for  collaborating  with  Communists  at  a  time  when  they  did  too. 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  NATION  595 

Everybody  blamed  everybody  else  for  the  defeat.  Everybody  made 
wild  accusations.  Everyone  thinks  the  Spain  of  the  future  is  his. 
Meanwhile  many  must  fret  about  their  permit  to  stay  in  the  country 
of  asylum  and  worry  about  the  next  meal. 
A  nation  died  when  Franco  won.  But  nations  have  been  reborn. 


36.  A  Yachtful  of  Diamonds  and  Pearls 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  1938,  the  Spanish  Republican  govern- 
ment rented  a  handsome  villa  in  Deauville,  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  seashore  resorts  in  France.  In  the  villa  lived  several 
well-dressed  men  and  several  beautiful  Spanish  ladies.  They  led  the 
life  of  rich  South  Americans  spending  the  season  at  the  playground 
of  Europe's  high  society. 

As  Franco's  army  pushed  closer  to  Barcelona  in  December,  1938, 
Negrin,  Loyalist  Prime  Minister,  started  worrying  about  the  govern- 
ment's treasures.  When  the  civil  war  started  in  1936,  many  wealthy 
Spanish  aristocrats,  landlords,  and  industrial  magnates  fled  Republi- 
can territory  precipitously  and  could  not  smuggle  out  their  jewels. 
The  Republic  gathered  up  these  fabulously  valuable  gems.  It  ran- 
sacked private  mansions  and  palaces  in  the  mountains.  Its  agents 
tapped  walls  to  find  secret  safes.  In  the  deserted  house  of  a  countess 
of  ancient  lineage  in  Madrid  they  confiscated  a  cache  including  a 
necklace  of  black  pearls,  a  diamond  tiara,  and  other  like  knickknacks 
worth  several  million  dollars.  Similar  finery  left  in  bank  vaults  by 
Fascists  who  had  been  executed  or  imprisoned  were  added  to  the 
government  hoard.  Some  of  the  jewels  were  family  heirlooms  that 
had  been  brought  from  the  Golconda  in  India  when  sixteenth-cen- 
tury Spanish  explorers  sailed  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in 
search  of  the  wealth  of  the  East. 

Each  piece  of  jewelry  was  carefully  catalogued  and  described.  A 
special  guard  responsible  to  Negrin  was  put  in  charge.  Negrin  told 
them  they  would  pay  with  their  lives  for  any  theft  or  loss. 

The  entire  treasure  was  kept  in  Figueras,  near  the  French  border. 
It  had  been  transferred  to  that  city  shortly  after  the  beginning  of  the 
siege  of  Madrid.  There  was  a  hoary  fortress  at  Figueras  with  several 
subterranean  levels  which  no  aerial  bomb  could  demolish. 

No  one  person  ever  had  access  to  the  treasure.  Nothing  could  be 
taken  from  it  without  the  written  permission  of  the  entire  Board  of 
Custody  which  consisted  of  officials  of  the  Finance  Ministry.  When 
the  League  of  Nations  Commission  which  counted  the  foreign  vol- 

596 


A  YACHTFUL  OF  DIAMONDS  AND  PEARLS  597 

unteers  in  Loyalist  Spain  had  finished  its  labors,  Negrin  and  Foreign 
Minister  del  Vayo  wished  to  show  their  appreciation  of  the  impartial 
efforts  of  the  Commission  by  giving  its  Chairman,«*he  Finnish  Gen- 
eral Jalander,  and  its  Secretary,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Basch  of  France, 
two  small  presents  in  the  form  of  inexpensive  trinkets.  They  had  to 
make  a  special  request  of  the  Board  of  Custody  which  voted  to  grant 
it. 

As  the  front  crept  nearer  to  Figueras,  Negrin  gave  orders  to  have 
the  entire  treasure  transported  to  the  chic  villa  in  Deauville.  But  this 
was  merely  a  temporary  expedient.  For  if  the  Loyalist  regime  col- 
lapsed the  jewels  would  not  be  safe  from  the  French  authorities  or 
from  Franco  spies.  Spanish  Fascists  had  been  reported  loitering  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  villa.  There  were  spies  everywhere.  Negrin  ac- 
cordingly gave  instructions  for  the  purchase  of  an  ocean-going  yacht. 

Catalonia  fell.  France  was  hostile  to  the  Loyalists.  Negrin  immedi- 
ately ordered  his  officials  to  remove  the  jewels  from  France  to  the 
Western  Hemisphere. 

One  night  in  the  second  week  of  February,  1939,  the  well-dressed 
inhabitants  of  the  Deauville  villa  put  on  working  clothes  and  carried 
huge  cases  filled  with  diamonds,  sapphires,  emeralds,  pearls,  and  gold 
and  platinum  jewelry  down  to  the  sea  and  loaded  them  on  the  yacht 
Vita.  The  estimated  value  of  the  jewels  was  $50,000,000.  The  cargo 
also  contained  strong  boxes  packed  tight  with  stocks  and  bonds. 

The  treasure  on  the  Vita  was  in  charge  of  Sefior  Puente,  a  young 
officer  in  the  Carabineros  who  had  just  been  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  colonel.  He  belonged  to  the  Spanish  Socialist  party,  and  Negrin 
trusted  him.  Negrin  told  Colonel  Puente  to  place  the  jewels  in  the 
safe-keeping  of  President  Cardenas  of  Mexico.  They  would  remain 
in  Mexico  until  a  favorable  turn  in  the  wheel  of  history  made  it  pos- 
sible for  the  anti-Fascist  Republicans  to  return  to  Spain  and  set  up  a 
govei^irnent.  Then  the  treasure  would  constitute  the  Republic's  finan- 
cial foundation  stone. 

The  Vita  under  Colonel  Puente  left  Deauville  at  full  speed.  Its 
swift  engines  carried  it  quickly  away  from  the  shores  of  Europe 
toward  America.  Then  it  slackened  its  pace  and  cruised  leisurely. 
It  stopped  in  a  West  Indies  port  to  refuel  and  take  on  fresh  water 
and  food.  Meanwhile,  Dr.  Jose  Puche,  Chief  of  the  Health  Service  of 
the  Republic  army,  was  racing  from  Europe  to  Mexico  to  act  as 
Negrin's  contact  man  with  President  Cardenas. 

But  Colonel  Puente  was  an  old  admirer  of  Indalecio  Prieto,  veteran 


598      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

Socialist  leader  and  former  Loyalist  Minister  of  War.  Prieto  had 
been  ousted  from  the  government  by  Negrin  and  sent  as  Spain's  spe- 
cial plenipotentiary  to  the  inauguration  of  Pedro  Aguirre  Cerda,  the 
new  Chilean  Popular  Front  president.  That  decorative  mission  com- 
pleted, Prieto,  filled  with  resentment  against  Negrin  for  having  super- 
seded him  and  eliminated  him  from  active  participation  in  Spanish 
politics,  took  up  residence  in  Mexico  City. 

From  the  high  seas,  Colonel  Puente  sent  a  radio  to  Prieto  in  Mex- 
ico. When  the  yacht  Vita  anchored  at  a  Mexican  port,  its  jewels  were 
turned  over  to  Prieto.  Negrin's  special  emissary,  Dr.  Puche,  arrived 
too  late. 

When  the  Spanish  War  ended,  Negrin  himself  went  to  Mexico 
and  saw  President  Cardenas.  He  also  tried  to  see  Prieto.  However, 
Prieto  refused  to  meet  Negrin.  An  acrimonious  exchange  of  letters 
took  place  between  Prieto  and  Negrin.  One  of  Negrin's  letters  was 
diirty-eight  pages  long.  Nothing  helped.  Technically,  the  Vitifs 
treasure  is  in  the  custody  of  the  Mexican  state.  Actually,  Prieto  has 
access  to  it  and  can  from  time  to  time  attempt  to  market  its  gems 
and  valuable  papers.  Negrin  has  lost  it.  Prieto  could  use  the  money 
to  assist  Spanish  refugees. 

The  beautiful  Vita,  flying  the  flag  of  Panama,  rides  at  anchor  in 
the  harbor  of  Acapulco,  Mexico. 


37-  Settling  Down  in  America 

Tk  4TY  friends  have  always  predicted  that  some  day  I  would 
|\/|  "settle  down"— and  I  suppose  gather  moss.  I  arrived  in  New 
-i- T  A  York  on  May  i,  aboard  the  S.S.  Normandie,  which  also 
carried  Negrin  and  a  party  of  Loyalists  who  were  en  route  to  Mexico 
to  see  about  the  Vita  treasure.  I  love  the  heat  of  summer.  I  played 
tennis,  swam,  canoed,  and  thought  of  settling  down.  Meanwhile,  I 
scampered  about  America  delivering  lectures. 

What  would  I  have  to  do  to  settle  down?  Live  in  one  pkce  and 
take  a  job?  My  record  was  still  pretty  good.  My  last  steady  job  was 
in  1921.  In  1928,  Frederick  R.  Kuh,  in  charge  of  the  United  Press 
bureau  in  Berlin,  summoned  me  from  Moscow  to  substitute  for  him, 
at  an  enormous  salary,  while  he  went  on  vacation  to  Chicago.  I  stayed 
in  his  office  for  three  days  and  found  it  intolerable.  So  I  took  the 
night  train  to  Heidelberg,  my  favorite  spot  in  Germany,  rowed  on 
the  Neckar,  walked  on  Philosophenhoehe,  and  expanded  in  the  sun 
for  two  weeks.  That  supplied  me  with  the  necessary  Sitzfleisch  to 
occupy  Kuh's  chair  for  the  next  two  months. 

I  like  to  impose  discipline  on  myself.  I  hate  others  to  impose  it  on 
me.  I  can  work  hard  if  nobody  drives  me.  I  would  never  take  steady 
work  just  to  earn  money.  I  don't  need  money  that  badly.  I  spend 
freely  when  I  have  the  means,  but  I  can  also  reduce  my  standards  to 
my  means.  I  have  nd  possessions  and  few  clothes.  My  most  expensive 
vice  is  taxis.  I  spend  no  money  on  tobacco  or  drink— and  very  little 
on  women.  Come  to  think  of  it,  that  is  not  quite  true— since  1929  I 
have  been  contributing  to  the  support  of  my  wife.  But  that  should 
end  soon.  She  is  writing  a  book. 

In  June,  the  second  month  of  my  settling-down,  I  delivered  an 
address  at  the  annual  conference  of  Settlement  Workers  which  met 
in  Jamestown,  New  York,  under  the  presidency  of  Helen  Hall.  A 
few  days  later  I  repeated  it  at  the  annual  conference  of  Social  Work- 
ers which  met  in  Buffalo  under  the  presidency  of  her  husband,  Paul 
Kellogg.  It  was  a  general  survey  of  the  international  scene.  But  I  also 

599 


600      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

revealed  changes  that  were  taking  place  inside  me.  I  discussed  Fas- 
cism and  Sovietism.  Russia  had  demonstrated  that  "an  economy  from 
which  private  capitalism  has  been  eliminated  can  build  up  a  country 
and  produce  on  a  large  scale.  .  .  .  On  the  other  hand,  Soviet  produc- 
tion for  the  daily  use  of  the  population  is  woefully  inadequate.  The 
flow  of  consumers'  goods  is  irregular  and  insufficient  and  has  shown 
no  tendency  to  satisfy  the  nation's  requirements.  Above  all,  the  Soviet 
government's  significant  economic  and  social  progress  and  the  suc- 
cessful defense  of  its  territories  in  a  hostile  environment  have  been 
achieved  at  great  expense  to  the  liberties  of  men  and  to  intellectual 
and  artistic  freedom.  The  restrictions,  far  from  being  relaxed  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  promise  of  the  1936  Constitution,  and  as  domestic 
stability  and  invulnerability  against  foreign  attack  grew,  have  actu- 
ally been  tightened." 

Then  my  true  confession:  "These  aspects  of  the  world  situation 
.  .  .  have  radically  altered  our  sense  of  values.  .  .  .  Those  who  once 
said,  'Yes,  we  have  the  freedom  of  the  press  but  .  .  .  ,'  those  who 
daily  argued  about  the  weaknesses  of  parliamentary  regimes  have 
been  educated  by  bitter  events.  The  operations  of  dictatorships  have 
taught  anti-capitalists  and  leftists  to  treasure  freedom  above  all  else. 
Without  civil  rights  there  is  no  economic  security  even  when  unem- 
ployment has  disappeared,  and  peace  and  national  security  are  tenu- 
ous where  the  will  of  the  people  is  ignored.  The  dictatorships  have 
made  us  love  democracy  more." 

Further  in  my  address  to  the  conferences  in  June,  I  declared,  "It 
looks  as  if  we  are  today  approaching  another  major  international 
crisis  reminiscent  of  September,  1938.  .  .  .  Russia  holds  the  key  to 
the  war-or-peace  situation.  I  do  not  know  whether  the  Anglo-Soviet 
pact  will  be  concluded.  But  if  the  negotiations  fail,  world  peace  will 
be  in  grave  danger.  The  Fascists  will  take  advantage  of  the  dis- 
unity. .  .  .  The  Russians  are  torn  between  the  wisdom  of  isolation 
and  the  necessity  of  co-operation.  The  British  are  torn  between  their 
passionate  dislike  of  the,  Bolsheviks  and  the  imperative  need  of  an- 
other mighty  ally.  ...  If  Russia  stays  out  the  responsibilities  of  the 
United  States  will  be  greater."  I  felt  that  the  question  of  war  or 
peace  hung  by  the  outcome  of  Russia's  talks  with  the  powers.  The 
role  of  Russia  was  paramount. 

Dashiell  Hanunett,  Mary  van  Kleeck,  Vincent  Sheean,  Corliss 
Lamont,  Donald  Ogden  Stewart  and  several  others  addressed  an  open 
letter  in  July,  1939,  to  "all  active  friends  of  democracy  and  peace" 


SETTLING  DOWN  IN  AMERICA  601 

asking  them  to  sign,  for  publication,  a  statement  setting  forth  the 
differences  between  the  Soviet  Union  and  Fascist  states.  I  looked 
down  the  list  of  the  ten  who  initiated  the  open  letter  and  found  that 
at  least  half  of  them  knew  nothing  or  little  about  Soviet  conditions. 
Then  I  read  the  ten  pages  of  text  elaborating  the  contrast  between 
Bolshevist  Russia  and  Fascist  countries,  and  I  writhed.  I  discussed  it 
with  Markoosha  in  a  New  York  apartment  we  had  rented  for  the 
summer.  Her  reaction  was  the  same  as  mine.  I  would  not  sign.  I 
started  to  write  my  reply.  I  kept  the  rough  draft,  "After  careful  con- 
sideration, I  have  decided  not  to  sign  your  letter  because  it  contains 
a  number  of  statements  whose  categorical  nature  results  in  a  depar- 
ture from  the  complicated  truth."  July  17,  1939.  I  didn't  like  the 
formulation  very  much  and  let  it  lie  and  in  the  end  sent  nothing. 
Four  hundred  Americans,  mostly  liberals,  did  sign.  Max  Lerner  sub- 
sequently said  to  me  that  I  should  have  protested  publicly  at  the 
time.  He  was  probably  right.  But  I  still  hesitated;  Russia  had  not  yet 
aligned  itself  with  Hitler. 

I  could  have  accepted  the  Open  Letter's  declaration  that  the  Soviet 
Union  "has  eliminated  racial  and  national  prejudice  within  its  bor- 
ders." But  the  proposition  that  trade  unions  in  the  Soviet  Union  are 
free  is  ridiculous  and  untrue.  They  are  passive,  unprotesting  instru- 
ments of  the  government  and  the  Communist  party.  Point  Nine  sang 
a  hymn  to  Soviet  democracy  and  the  Constitution.  How  could  I  sub- 
scribe to  that  after  the  purges  and  trials  and  the  terror?  "The  Soviet 
Union  has  emancipated  woman  and  the  family."  Yes,  but  part  of  that 
was  on  paper.  The  compulsion  to  raise  large  families— since  abortions 
had  been  prohibited  and  sufficient  contraceptives  were  not  available- 
fettered  women  anew,  and  difficult  material  conditions  which  neces- 
sitated long  standing  in  queues,  hard  housework  in  badly  built  and 
badly  equipped  apartments  and  a  constant  struggle  with  shortages 
vitiated  many  of  the  benefits  of  progressive  legislation.  A  frigidaire, 
an  electric  washing  machine,  green  vegetables,  a  doctor  for  the  chil- 
dren when  you  want  him,  easy  shopping,  a  pleasant  bathroom,  and  a 
home  and  political  atmosphere  without  excessive  tension  also  make 
women  free.  Economic  conditions  in  Russia  were  not  improving.  On 
the  contrary. 

Above  all,  my  mind  protested  against  the  implications  of  the  Open 
Letter.  The  Soviet  regime  was  founded  to  produce  a  better  human 
being.  Now  it  was  assassinating  the  human  being— sometimes  with 
bullets,  sometimes  with  lies  and  false  confessions. 


602      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

(The  Open  Letter  with  its  four  hundred  signatures  was  published 
in  the  press  the  day  before  the  news  of  the  Soviet-Nazi  pact  shocked 
the  world!) 

And  now  all  my  thoughts  about  settling  down  were  interrupted. 
The  radio  and  the  newspapers  recorded  the  rising  temperature  of  a 
patient  I  had  known  for  a  long  time:  Europe.  On  August  9,  I  sailed 
for  Europe  on  the  Queen  Mary.  I  did  not  know  that  the  second 
World  War  was  three  weeks  off .  But  I  felt  that  something  was  com- 
ing which  I  must  not  miss. 


38.  Europe  Slips  into  War 

MONDAY,  August  14,  1939,  the  day  of  my  arrival  in  Paris, 
I  had  dinner  with  the  H.  R.  Knickerbockers.  Walter 
Duranty  was  there.  We  discussed  Bullitt.  I  said  he  had, 
until  lately,  been  an  appeaser.  He  was  the  only  important  foreign 
diplomat  present  at  Le  Bourget  when  Daladier  landed  there  from 
Munich.  He  had  defended  Munich  in  conversation  with  me.  Knick- 
erbocker said  he  didn't  believe  Bullitt  had  been  at  Le  Bourget.  I  said, 
"Call  and  find  out."  Knick  phoned  and  asked  for  Bullitt's  secretary. 
"He  is  out,"  the  answer  came.  "Is  there  any  message?" 
"Please  tell  him  Knickerbocker  telephoned." 
"Hello,  Knick,  this  is  BUI." 

Knickerbocker  told  Bullitt  our  conversation  and  asked  about  Le 
Bourget.  Bullitt  confirmed  it. 

A  few  days  later,  I  called  on  Soviet  Ambassador  Suritz.  I  had 
known  Suritz  for  many  years.  When  he  was  in  the  Berlin  Embassy 
in  1934,  I  had  lunch  with  him  one  day  and  talked  about  the  possi- 
bility of  a  close  alliance  between  Germany,  Italy,  and  Japan.  It  is 
one  of  my  regrets  that  I  failed  to  write  an  article  along  these  lines 
at  that  time.  I  sketched  for  Suritz  what  the  three  self-styled  "Have- 
nots"  might  gain  by  co-operating  in  Europe,  in  the  Mediterranean, 
and  against  India.  Suritz  disagreed.  After  lunch  he  called  in  Bessonov, 
his  Counselor,  who  also  disagreed,  and  a  debate  went  on  for  another 
hour.  When  the  Fascist  triangle  actually  emerged  in  1936,  I  rose  in 
Suritz's  estimation,  and  in  Paris,  during  the  Spanish  struggle,  we  used 
to  have  long  intimate  conversations  about  international  events. 

Now  I  went  to  him  to  ask  about  the  situation.  Did  he  think  Hitler 
would  attack  Poland?  He  did  not  know.  "But  in  any  case,"  he  said 
with  emphasis,  "the  line  should  be  clear.  If  France  and  England  want 
to  stop  Hitler  from  going  into  Poland  they  should  sign  an  agreement 
with  the  Soviet  government.  If  he  goes  into  Poland,  they  should  of 
course  reach  an  understanding  with  the  Soviet  government." 

That  was  August  19. 

603 


604      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

I  had  gone  to  bed  when  Knickerbocker  telephoned  at  midnight  on 
the  twenty-first  to  tell  me  that  Ribbentrop  was  flying  to  Moscow.  I 
immediately  saw  'a  picture  of  the  Nazi  who  had  fashioned  the  anti- 
Comintern  pact  being  welcomed  in  the  Kremlin  where  the  Comin- 
tern was  wont  to  meet.  Ten  minutes  later  the  telephone  rang  again. 
A  friend  was  calling  from  New  York  to  ask  whether  Ribbentrop's 
flight  to  Russia  meant  war  in  Europe.  I  walked  my  room  for  an 
hour  after  that.  It  seemed  a  day  of  doom. 

Suritz  had  been  perfectly  sincere.  Soviet  embassies  are  rarely  in- 
formed about  goings-on  in  Moscow.  The  negotiations  between  the 
Soviets  and  the  democracies  had  proceeded  in  parallel  with  the  nego- 
tiations between  the  Soviets  and  Hitler.  Stalin  did  not  tell  his  left 
fingers  what  his  right  hand  was  doing. 

Colonel  Charles  Sweeny,  professional  soldier,  lover  of  France, 
anti-appeaser  and  staunch  pro-Loyalist  by  healthy  instinct,  took  me 
on  August  23  to  the  Anglo-American  Press  Club  luncheon.  The  per- 
manent British  and  American  correspondents  in  Paris  met  regularly 
at  lunch  for  comradeship  and  exchange  of  views.  On  this  occasion, 
I  remember  among  those  present  P.  J.  Philip,  Englishman,  corre- 
spondent of  the  New  York  Times,  Jo  Davidson,  Edmond  Taylor,  of 
the  Chicago  Tribune  and  author,  subsequently,  of  that  sensitive,  in- 
telligent book,  The  Strategy  of  Terror,  and  John  Elliott  of  the  New 
York  Herald  Tribune.  Arthur  Sweetser  was  the  guest  speaker.  He 
was  a  high  American  official  of  the  League  of  Nations  and  had  just 
returned  from  America.  He  spoke  on  conditions  at  home.  Then  the 
chairman  asked  me  to  say  a  few  words  on  the  Nazi-Soviet  pact.  I 
was  surprised;  I  had  not  expected  to  be  called  upon.  I  was  in  no  mood 
to  say  anything.  The  text  of  the  pact  had  not  yet  appeared  in  the 
Paris  press.  The  purpose  and  general  contents  of  the  document,  how- 
ever, were  known. 

Ed  Taylor  records  the  following  in  his  book,  "Louis  Fischer  also 
spoke  at  the  Press  Club,  said  German-Soviet  pact  was  a  terrible  blow, 
terrible  encouragement  to  aggression.  Even  said  it  was  'criminal*  to 
make  such  an  alliance  at  such  a  time.  Seemed  very  despondent."  I 
recall  my  concluding  sentence,  "I  see  only  unrelieved  blackness."  I 
expected  the  worst.  Two  days  kter  I  wrote  an  article  analyzing  and 
assailing  the  pact. 

The  Soviet-Nazi  pact  of  August  23,  1939,  was  not  merely  an  ar- 
rangement for  future  deeds.  Every  diplomatic  agreement  is  of  the 
future,  present,  and  past.  Stalin's  agreement  with  Hitler  was  a  prod- 


EUROPE  SLIPS  INTO  WAR  605 

uct  of  the  Moscow  trials  and  purges  and  of  the  deep  social  phe- 
nomena which  brought  them  about.  The  pact  was  the  beginning  of 
something  but  also  the  end  of  something.  Russia  ceased  struggling 
with  itself. 

The  young  rebel  because  they  have  much  time.  The  old  say,  "We 
will  not  see  the  results  anyway."  Youth,  with  a  whole  life  to  spend, 
chucks  it  into  the  fight.  The  aged,  who  have  least  to  lose,  count  costs. 
The  Bolshevik  Revolution  was  a  revolt  against  Russia.  Its  primary 
purpose  was  to  overcome  Russia  by  destroying  the  ugly  material, 
psychological,  and  cultural  heritage  of  Czarism.  But  revolution  is  the 
line  of  most  resistance.  Revolutions  may  grow  old  and  tired.  Then 
they  sign  an  armistice  with  the  enemy.  Bolshevism's  enemy  was 
Russia. 

Stalin  is  a  mixture  of  revolution  and  Russia.  He  is  Karl  Marx 
superimposed  on  Peter  the  Great.  They  are  in  conflict  within  him 
as  they  are  in  conflict  within  the  country.  There  were  times  when 
Marx's  pull  was  stronger.  Now  Peter  is  on  top. 

Stalin  had  led  a  vigorous  crusade  against  the  physical  vestiges  of 
Russia's  past;  he  introduced  the  five-year  plans  and  agrarian  reorgan- 
ization. But  he  succumbed  to  the  spirit  of  old  Russia.  He  surrendered 
to  Russian  nationalism.  He  has  adopted,  and  perfected,  some  of 
Czarism's  worst  methods  of  repression.  If  the  revolution  had  de- 
stroyed more  of  Russia,  Stalin  could  have  destroyed  less  of  the 
revolution. 

The  Nazi-Soviet  pact  was  prepared  by  the  years  of  revolutionary 
ebb  in  Russia  between  1936  and  1939.  The  pact  was  a  symptom  of 
the  advanced  state  of  corruption  resulting  from  Stalin's  personal  dic- 
tatorship. But  that  only  partially  explains  it.  It  took  three  to  make 
that  agreement:  Stalin,  Hitler,  and  Chamberlain-Daladier. 

The  case  of  Hitler  is  very 'simple.  He  contemplated  an  assault  on 
Poland  which  might  result  in  a  major  war.  He  knew,  and  every  Ger- 
man knew,  that  Germany  lost  the  first  World  War  because  it  fought 
Russia  in  the  East  and  England  and  France  in  the  West.  In  another 
two-front  war,  Germany  was  sure  to  lose  again.  Hitler  wanted  a  war 
on  one  front.  The  pact  with  Stalin  gave  it  to  him. 

The  French  Yellow  Book,  published  by  the  French  Foreign  Office 
after  the  outbreak  of  war,  contains  a  striking  report  sent  by  Robert 
Coulondre,  the  French  Ambassador,  from  Berlin  to  Paris  on  June  "i, 
1939.  His  reporting  was  reliable  and  most  of  his  prognostications 
proved  correct.  He  passed  on,  as  "positively  truthful  information,'1 


606      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

this:  "It  is  believed  in  the  upper  circle  here  that  if  there  is  an  armed 
conflict  with  Poland  on  account  of  Danzig  the  result  will  be  a  gen- 
eral war.  Hitler  asked  General  Keitel,  chief  of  the  staff,  and  General 
von  Brauchitsch,  commander-in-chief  of  the  Reichswehr,  if,  under 
present  conditions,  Germany  could  win  a  general  war.  Both  said  it 
depended  on  whether  Russia  stayed  out  or  came  into  the  war.  In 
case  she  stayed  out  KeiteFs  answer  was  'Yes,*  while  Brauchitsch 
(whose  opinion  is  worth  more)  answered  'Probably.'  Both  generals 
stated  that  if  Germany  had  to  fight  against  Russia  too  it  would  have 
little  chance  of  victory." 

Hitler  accordingly  bent  every  effort  towards  keeping  Russia  out  of 
the  war.  It  is  possible  that  but  for  the  pact  with  Stalin,  Hitler  would 
not  have  gone  to  war  in  1939.  Hitler  probably  hoped  that  a  pact  with 
Stalin  would  frighten  the  Western  Powers  out  of  going  to  war  when 
he  invaded  Poland.  Stalin  may  have  had  similar  expectations.  The 
Nazi-Bolshevik  pact  was  a  maneuver  designed  to  restore  appeasement 
to  full  power  in  England  and  France.  Its  primary  purpose  was  to 
bring  about  a  Polish  Munich.  When  that  failed  to  eventuate,  it 
brought  about  the  second  World  War  in  which,  however,  Germany 
had  no  eastern  front. 

Although  the  Soviets  and  Germany  were  the  only  two  govern- 
ments to  sign  the  pact  of  August  23,  1939,  others  helped  to  make  it. 
Chamberlain  and  Daladier,  personal  symbols  of  the  reactionary  ap- 
peasers  of  their  democratic  countries,  made  a  twofold  contribution: 
first,  they  contributed  to  it  by  appeasing,  and  then,  they  contributed 
to  it  by  ceasing  to  appease.  The  attitude  of  Great  Britain  and  France 
in  crises  affecting  Ethiopia,  China,  Spain,  and  Czechoslovakia  dis- 
gusted everybody  in  the  Soviet  Union— and  particularly  Maxim  Lit- 
vinov.  The  cold  rebuffs  administered  to  Moscow  by  London  and 
Paris  irritated  the  Soviet  government.  Stalin  had  preached  collective 
security  as  the  only  hopeful  alternative  to  Hitler's  bi-lateral  treaties 
which  led  to  aggression.  But  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  rejected  all 
of  Stalin's  and  Litvinov's  offers.  The  Kremlin,  chagrined,  neverthe- 
less hoped  stubbornly  for  an  understanding  with  the  Western  Powers 
against  the  Fascist  Powers.  Stalin  pursued  the  policy  of  courting  Eng- 
land and  France  long  after  Munich.  Russia  feared  the  Fascist  Powers. 
Russia  feared  an  attack,  by  Germany  with  the  connivance  or  en- 
couragement of  England  and  France.  The  friends  of  Russia  in  Eng- 
land and  France,  the  friends  of  peace,  and  the  friends  of  the  British 


EUROPE  SLIPS  INTO  WAR  607 

and  French  empires  directed  their  efforts  towards  the  abandonment 
of  appeasement;  they  urged  aid  to  the  victims  of  Fascist  attack. 

Then,  gradually,  the  British  and  French  started  abandoning  ap- 
peasement. The  friends  of  Russia,  the  enemies  of  Fascism,  and  the 
orthodox  British  and  French  imperialists  were  winning  the  day 
against  Chamberlain  and  Daladier.  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  them- 
selves began  to  realize  that  Hitler  could  never  be  appeased.  Appease- 
ment was  going  out  the  window.  England  and  France  were  generat- 
ing a  mood  of  resistance  to  further  totalitarian  violence.  In  March, 
1939,  England  gave  a  guarantee  to  Poland.  This  made  good  news  in 
Moscow.  If  England  and  France  would  fight  over  Poland  then  Russia 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  Germany.  Germany,  after  eating  up  Poland, 
would  have  to  turn  around  against  France.  In  that  case,  Germany 
needed  Russia's  friendship  to  insure  against  a  two-front  war.  Hence 
the  pact. 

The  end  of  appeasement,  which  was  the  beginning  of  the  second 
World  War,  meant  that  Germany  would  be  busy  fighting  the  Allies 
and  would  not  be  in  a  position  to  concentrate  on  Russia.  For  the 
first  time  in  years,  therefore,  Stalin  had  a  choice  in  foreign  affairs. 
Formerly,  he  could  not  have  been  pro-German  because  Hitler  did 
not  want  him.  Hitler  wanted  the  anti-Communist  slogan  which  lulled 
Chamberlain  and  Daladier  into  appeasement.  Stalin,  accordingly, 
could  only  have  been  pro-Ally.  But  now  he  could  be  pro-Ally  or 
pro-German. 

This  was  a  wonderful  opportunity  to  remain  truly  neutral.  Europe 
would  be  engaged  in  war  and  Russia  could  stay  out.  I  criticize  Stalin's 
new  foreign  policy  because  he  threw  away  this  opportunity.  Instead 
of  remaining  at  peace,  he  went  to  war  in  Poland  and  Finland.  Instead 
of  remaining  neutral,  he  rebuffed  one  belligerent  group  and  made  a 
compact  with  the  other.  Instead  of  keeping  aloof  he  smiled  on  Hitler 
and  engaged  in  aggression. 

Soviet  Russia  helped  Hitler  by  giving  him  access  to  its  meager  sur- 
pluses of  oil,  fodder,  cotton,  iron,  and  other  materials.  It  helped  Hit- 
ler, as  the  Pravda  editorial  boasted  on  August  23,  1940,  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  signature  of  the  pact,  by  "guaranteeing  Germany  un- 
disturbed security  in  the  East."  It  helped  Germany  by  inducing  Com- 
munists in  England,  France,  the  United  States,  and  smaller  countries 
to  sabotage  the  war  effort  against  Hitler.  It  helped  Germany  by  act- 
ing as  a  transit  country  for  German  imports. 

Since  the  signing  of  the  Soviet-Nazi  pact,  Soviet  newspapers  and 


608      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

spokesmen  have  refrained  from  condemning  Hitler  and  Mussolini. 
Anti-Fascist  agitation  has  been  curbed  in  the  Soviet  Union.  The 
country  had  been  taught  to  abhor  every  manifestation  of  Fascism. 
This  propaganda  then  ceased,  and  in  its  place  came  virulent  diatribes 
against  France,  England,  and  the  United  States. 

Nazi  aggression  was  not  merely  passively  condoned.  The  Bolshe- 
viks justified  it.  The  N&w  York  Sunday  Worker  of  May  12,  1940, 
printed  a  two-page  article  by  George  Dimitrov,  secretary-general  of 
the  Comintern,  on  the  war  situation.  It  is  one  long  attack  on  the 
Western  Powers.  It  contains  only  two  references  to  Germany:  the 
first,  a  factual  mention  of  the  conclusion  of  the  Nazi-Bolshevik  pact; 
the  second,  "The  French  and  British  war  incendiaries  are  exerting 
unparalleled  pressure  on  the  small  neutral  states  and  have  openly 
trampled  the  neutrality  of  the  Scandinavian  countries  underfoot. 
Germany  has  retaliated  by  occupying  Denmark  and  a  large  part  of 
Norway."  Dimitrov  exculpating  Hitler  and  Goering!  What  a  spec- 
tacle! 

The  same  issue  of  the  same  paper  carried  an  article  wired  from 
Moscow  the  previous  day  by  Andre  Marty,  French  Communist 
leader.  "Already,"  he  complains,  "the  Lofoten  Isles  and  Iceland  are 
'under  the  protection'  of  Chamberlain."  The  Lofoten  Isles  are  dots  in 
the  harbor  of  Narvik.  This  is  the  greatest  of  all  crimes.  The  Lofoten 
Isles!  But  Marty  does  not  even  mention  the  Nazi  occupation  of 
Holland,  Belgium,  Norway,  and  Denmark.  That  was  all  right.  That 
was  done  by  Hitler.  Later  the  Communists  similarly  contended  that 
the  Greeks  had  provoked  Mussolini  into  attacking  them.  Sweet  Mus- 
solini. He  never  attacks  unless  provoked.  Ask  the  Loyalists.  Ask  the 
Abyssinians.  Ask  the  Albanians.  Ask  the  Italians. 

For  me,  the  essential  and  shocking  incongruity  of  the  Nazi-Soviet 
pact  was  the  intimacy  it  inaugurated  between  a  state  founded  as  a 
workers'  regime  and  a  state  that  had  smashed  workers'  political  par- 
ties and  trade  unions  and  imprisoned,  tortured,  and  murdered  many 
thousands  of  Communists  and  Socialists;  between  a  state  that  gave 
equality  to  nationalities  and  a  state  based  on  the  principle  of  the 
supremacy  of  one  Aryan  race;  between  a  state  that  spoke  in  the 
name  of  a  new  culture  and  a  state  that  behaved  like  a  mechanized 
barbarian.  The  pact,  moreover,  denies  the  most  fundamental  idea  of 
world  peace— that  only  a  union  of  non-aggressors  can  guarantee  indi- 
vidual nations  against  aggression.  This  is  what  Litvinov  had  always 
preached.  This  is  what  Stalin  had  preached. 


EUROPE  SLIPS  INTO  WAR  609 

I  felt  immediately  that  Moscow's  treaty  with  Fascist  Germany  was 
bad  for  Russia  as  a  country  and  bad  for  the  labor  movement  abroad. 
"We  are  back  to  zero,"  Andre  Malraux  said  to  me  in  Paris. 

"It  is  the  war,"  the  cashier  in  my  hotel  sighed  when  she  read  the 
news  of  the  pact.  She  had  lived  in  Russia  before  1914  and  spoke  a  few 
words  of  Russian  still  and  had  some  sympathy  with  the  Left.  Thou- 
sands of  Frenchmen  called  to  the  colors  within  two  days  after  Rib- 
bentrop  and  Molotov  affixed  their  signatures  to  the  document  natur- 
ally blamed  it  for  their  personal  misfortune.  Communists  were  con- 
fused and  waited  for  a  cue  from  Moscow.  When  the  Soviet  Ambas- 
sador in  London  heard  of  Ribbentrop's  flight  to  Moscow  he  said  it 
couldn't  be  true.  When  it  was  confirmed,  the  Communists  said  the 
treaty  would  contain  an  escape  clause  making  the  whole  treaty  in- 
valid in  case  Germany  went  to  war.  But  it  contained  no  escape  clause. 
The  Communists  defended  the  pact  nevertheless,  and  found  virtues 
in  it  and  in  the  reprehensible  acts  that  flowed  from  it.  If  a  single 
Communist  had  advocated  such  a  Nazi-Soviet  arrangement  before  it 
was  concluded  I  might  have  respected  the  Communist  defense  of  it 
later  on.  But  all  Communists  condemned  anybody  who  suggested  the 
remote  likelihood  of  an  agreement  between  Moscow  and  Berlin.  In 
June,  1939,  at  the  University  of  Virginia  Institute  of  Politics,  Earl 
Browder  said  publicly  that  there  was  as  much  chance  of  such  a  pact 
as  there  was  of  his  becoming  President  of  the  United  States  Chamber 
of  Commerce.  Yet  he  defended  it  when  it  came.  When  I  had  met 
Browder  at  Charlottesville  he  criticized  the  passage  in  my  speeches 
in  which  I  had  suggested  the  possibility  that  Moscow  would  not  sign 
with  the  Allies. 

The  first  duty  of  every  chief  of  state  is  to  safeguard  his  state.  But 
they  can  make  mistakes.  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  blundered  through 
appeasement  into  war.  History,  I  believe,  will  show  that  Hitler  com- 
mitted an  error  when  he  seized  the  rest  of  Czechoslovakia.  I  think 
Stalin  made  a  fatal  blunder  by  aligning  himself  with  Hitler.  Suppose 
he  had  not  signed  with  Hitler,  nor,  at  least  for  a  time,  signed  with  the 
Western  Powers?  Suppose  he  had  remained  truly  neutral  and  within 
his  own  frontiers  instead  of  occupying  small  nations  whose  inde- 
pendence he  himself,  as  late  as  March  10,  1938,  had  pledged  the 
Soviet  government  to  defend?  What  would  have  happened? 

If  Stalin  was  in  a  position  to  force  Hitler  to  retire  from  his  position 
in  the  Baltic  states  and  the  eastern  half  of  Poland  he  would  certainly 
have  been  able  to  get  less  from  Hider,  to  wit:  no  German  penetra- 


610      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

tion  into  these  territories.  This  would  have  given  Russia  buffers 
against  Germany  instead  of  a  common  frontier.  It  might  be  argued 
that  if  Russia  had  not  actually  taken  over  these  countries  Hitler  could 
do  so  in  the  future.  But  if  England  and  France  had  not  declared  war 
on  Germany  on  September  3,  1939,  what  would  have  prevented 
Hitler  from  vetoing  the  Russian  occupation  of  the  Baltic  states  and 
Eastern  Poland?  Germany  is  stronger  than  Russia.  The  pact  itself  was 
no  protection.  The  pact  is  a  piece  of  paper.  The  value  of  such  a  piece 
of  paper  depends  on  circumstances.  The  circumstance  that  invested 
the  pact  with  validity  was  the  war  in  the  West  on  which  Hitler  had 
to  concentrate.  If  there  had  been  no  pact  at  all  the  same  thing 
would  have  been  true;  Hitler  engaged  in  the  West  could  not  have 
molested  Russia.  It  was  not  the  pact,  accordingly,  which  gave  Russia 
safety.  It  merely  gave  Russia  the  opportunity  of  stealing  foreign  ter- 
ritory and  of  suppressing  small  nations.  Neutrality  without  a  pact 
•  would  have  been  just  as  safe  for  the  Soviet  Union  and  much  more 
honorable.  At  a  later  stage  in  the  war— if  the  war  had  come  without 
the  pact— the  Bolsheviks  could  have  assumed  a  less  neutral  and  more 
pro-Allied  stand.  For  Germany  and  Japan  are  potential  national 
menaces  to  Russia.  Hitler  has  announced  his  designs  on  Soviet  terri- 
tory. The  Japanese  are  aggressive  neighbors;  the  United  States,  Eng- 
land, and  France  are  not. 

The  photographs  of  Stalin  smiling  on  Ribbentrop  in  the  Kremlin 
were  an  indictment.  Stalin  did  not  have  to  be  present  at  the  signing 
of  the  pact.  He  had  never  before  attended  the  signing  of  a  treaty. 
He  did  it  with  a  purpose:  to  show  how  loyal  he  intended  to  remain 
to  Hitler.  My  friends  in  Moscow— those  that  remained— had  been 
taught  to  abominate  the  swastika.  Now  they  saw  it  intertwined  with 
the  red  flag. 

When  the  Soviet-Nazi  pact  was  signed  I  expected  war.  Neverthe- 
less, or  perhaps  therefore,  I  went  by  car  with  the  del  Vayos  the  next 
day  to  La  Baule  on  the  Brittany  coast  to  enjoy  the  last  week  of  sum- 
mer and  the  last  week  of  peace.  Pablo  Azcarate,  the  former  Loyalist 
envoy  in  London,  was  spending  the  summer  at  La  Baule  with  his 
family.  To  salve  my  journalist's  conscience  I  told  myself  that  it 
would  be  a  good  idea  to  see  the  province  on  the  eve  of  war. 

On  the  beach  at  La  Baule,  I  bet  Azcarate  five  hundred  francs  that 
major  European  powers  would  be  at  war  within  six  weeks.  (Within 
a  week  he  sent  me  the  money  by  messenger.  Suspecting  that  I  would 


EUROPE  SLIPS  INTO  WAR  611 

hesitate  to  accept  it,  he  wrote,  "I  have  lost.  I  have,  therefore,  to  pay. 
It  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  best  established  laws  in  the  world.") 

Along  the  highway  to  Brittany  old  women  were  pasting  official 
mobilization  posters  on  telegraph  poles  and  walls.  Only  a  few  classes 
were  being  summoned.  On  our  way  back  from  La  Baule,  on  August 
31,  new  posters  summoned  more  and  more  classes.  The  men  of 
France  were  going  off  to  war— again.  The  women  bade  them  fare- 
well again,  and  did  not  know  whether  they  would  return.  At  the 
little  monuments  to  the  dead  of  1914-18— there  is  one  in  every  town 
and  village  of  France— women  in  black  were  laying  little  bunches  of 
fresh  flowers.  The  memory  of  those  dead  became  more  poignant  as 
young  men  went  up  to  stand  where  their  fathers  had  fallen.  France, 
which  had  been  bled  white  in  1914-18,  would  give  its  blood  again. 

The  next  morning  at  five,  the  Nazis  marched  into  Poland.  The 
employees  of  my  hotel  were  pale.  I  felt  the  nervousness  of  Paris  as 
one  may  feel  the  nervousness  of  a  person  to  whom  one  is  talking. 
I  walked  the  streets  most  of  the  day.  Luggage  stores  were  doing  a 
rushing  business.  Many  taxis  had  been  requisitioned  and  others  hired 
to  take  Parisians  out  to  the  country.  The  trains  were  packed  with 
soldiers.  I  went  to  the  Gare  d'Est.  From  this  station  soldiers  departed 
for  the  Maginot  Line.  Men  in  civilian  clothes  with  heavy  hobnailed 
military  shoes  and  little  suitcases  at  their  feet  sat  with  their  girls  or 
wives  and  children  at  little  marble-covered  tables  in  cafes  in  the 
streets  leading  to  the  station.  No  one  smiled.  They  knew  what  it  had 
meant  in  the  last  war.  The  station  and  the  area  around  it  were  like 
one  sprawling  funeral.  It  was  much  more  depressing  than  an  air  raid 
in  Spain. 

September  3,  at  11.00  A.M.,  Great  Britain  declared  war  on  Ger- 
many. France  held  back.  Georges  Bonnet,  the  arch-appeaser,  and 
Mussolini  were  trying  to  leave  England  isolated  so  that  the  full 
weight  of  the  Nazi  attack  would  fall  immediately  on  England.  This 
would  accord  with  the  Hitler  principle  of  'Tmock  them  out  one  by 
one."  I  spent  the  afternoon  of  September  3— it  was  on  Sunday  that 
war  came— at  the  La  Phaisanderie  estate  of  Lucien  Vogel,  Conde 
Nast  representative  in  Paris.  We  were  sitting  in  the  open  at  5  P.M. 
A  lone  plane  flew  overhead.  The  radio  announced  France  at  war. 
Bonnet  had  lost. 

Going  back  to  town,  we  saw  women  along  the  streets  of  little 
towns  gazing  morosely  into  nowhere.  Some  bit  their  fingernails.  Some 
cried.  At  one  point  traffic  was  held  up.  Our  car  halted  alongside  a 


612      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

line  of  farm  horses  that  had  been  requisitioned  for  army  use.  Heavy, 
well-groomed,  powerful  horses.  A  farmer  put  his  arms  around  the 
neck  of  his  horse,  put  his  cheek  against  its  head,  and  talked  into  its 
ear.  The  horse  shook  its  head  up  and  down.  They  were  saying 
good-by. 

I  dined  that  evening  with  the  Knickerbockers  and  later  found  a 
taxi  in  the  blackout  to  take  me  back  to  the  hotel.  Before  going  to  bed 
I  laid  out  my  clothes  so  that  I  could  dress  easily  in  the  dark  in  case 
of  a  raid  and  I  put  my  flashlight  within  reach.  I  had  done  this  so  often 
in  Spain.  Now  war  had  come  to  Paris.  In  1937,  I  had  suggested  to 
French  friends  a  poster  for  distribution  in  France.  It  showed  Madrid 
being  bombed,  and  the  title  was,  "After  Madrid,  Paris?"  "Propa- 
ganda," some  people  said  contemptuously.  In  the  night  I  heard  the 
siren,  but  it  did  not  sound  serious,  and  I  stayed  in  bed. 

Downstairs,  in  the  morning,  everybody  was  exchanging  impres- 
sions. What  they  had  said  in  the  shelter.  How  the  anti-aircraft  fired. 
Someone  had  seen  a  plane  shot  down.  "I  swear  I  did."  One  told  where 
bombs  had  fallen.  The  official  bulletin  said  the  planes  had  been  inter- 
cepted before  they  reached  Paris. 

Paris  had  the  jitters  visibly.  Autos  crammed  with  human  beings 
and  baggage  were  rushing  out  of  town.  No  taxis.  Many  small  traffic 
accidents:  cars  scraping  one  another,  bumping  into  one  another;  bad 
driving  because  of  bad  nerves. 

France  went  to  war  without  rejoicing,  without  enthusiasm,  with- 
out any  sentiment  except  a  desire  for  animal  safety. 

So  Europe  was  again  at  war.  The  war  did  not  have  to  be.  The 
governments  of  Europe,  and  governments  outside  of  Europe,  are 
responsible  for  it.  Hitler  alone  could  not  have  made  the  war.  Nor 
could  there  have  been  a  Hitler  in  Germany  but  for  events  and  policies 
in  other  countries.  Two  wars  in  twenty-six  years  are  a  blot  on  civ- 
ilization. They  condemn  the  statesmen  and  the  social  forces  which 
control  our  world  and  which  led  mankind  into  this  massacre.  Until 
August  23,  1939,  it  might  have  been  said  that  capitalism  bore  the 
guilt.  Now  Bolshevism  shares  the  guilt.  Russia,  in  fact,  made  war  on 
Poland  and  Finland.  Fascism,  Communism,  and  Capitalism  are  re- 
sponsible for  the  second  World  War.  That  is  why  we  are  "back  to 


zero." 


How,  then,  can  wars  be  prevented?  I  strongly  favor  those  who 
fight  Hitler.  But  human  beings  are  too  precious,  and  the  machines 
their  minds  can  now  create  are  too  destructive,  for  the  world  to  go 


EUROPE  SLIPS  INTO  WAR  613 

to  war  once  or  twice  in  a  generation.  It  is  necessary  now  to  oust  the 
maniacal  tyrant.  But  simultaneously  a  new  social  order  and  a  new 
international  organization  must  be  evolved  which  will  make  Kaisers 
as  well  as  Hitlers,  Czars  as  well  as  Stalins,  Chamberlains  as  .well  as 
Poincares  forever  impossible. 


39*  Europe  at  War 

I  STAYED  in  Paris  from  September  3,  1939,  the  day  France  and 
England  declared  war,  to  September  21,  and  was  bored  through- 
out. No  excitement.  No  important  changes.  Just  bad  news  from 
Poland  to  disturb  the  day,  and  a  few  air-raid  alarms  to  disturb  some 
nights. 

Immediately  after  the  outbreak  of  war  I  stopped  playing  tennis, 
because  it  would  have  been  inconceivable  to  play  tennis  in  Spain  dur- 
ing the  war.  You  would  have  offended  the  people.  But  here  in  Paris 
Edmond  Taylor,  Walter  Kerr,  William  Henry  Chamberlin  and  Hu- 
bert R.  Knickerbocker  played  straight  on,  and  finally  I  decided  that 
it  was  foolish  not  to  play  and  joined  them.  Some  Frenchmen  played 
too. 

The  spirit  in  Paris  was  simply  rotten.  A  young  French  newspaper 
editor  who  spoke  English  revealed  his  innermost  hope  to  me;  he 
wanted  to  be  attached  to  the  British  Staff  with  headquarters  at  the 
grand  Hotel  Crillon  in  Paris.  Too  many  men  had  been  mobilized  and 
the  government  had  no  accommodations  or  work  for  them.  Fist- 
fights  occurred  in  the  workingmen's  districts  between  Communists 
and  anti-Communists.  The  government  seemed  without  leadership 
and  without  initiative. 

Petty,  reactionary  army  officers  were  now  in  charge  of  censorship 
in  the  Hotel  Continental.  They  took  luscious  revenge  on  their  politi- 
cal opponents  of  the  Left,  unnecessary  revenge.  Leon  Blum's  daily 
article  in  the  Socialist  Populaire  once  appeared  as  a  two-column  white 
blank  with  his  name  under  it.  Blum  was  pro-war  and,  of  course,  anti- 
Nazi.  But  the  censor  was  anti-Blum.  Blum  wanted  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies  to  meet  as  the  House  of  Commons  did  in  London.  The 
censor  blocked  that.  The  polemic  continued.  It  created  bad  blood. 
The  bourgeois  UCEuvre  seconded  Blum's  appeal.  "The  entire  re- 
public," this  daily  wrote,  "would  be  happy  to  see  the  people's  elected 
representatives  associated  in  the  work  of  national  defense."  M.  Mar- 
tinaud-Deplat,  chief  censor,  tried  to  stop  this  agitation.  Frenchmen 
had  to  plead  for  what,  in  Britain,  was  the  automatic  rule  of  political 

614 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  615 

life.  The  French  government  had  no  faith  in  the  people;  the  peo- 
ple had  no  faith  in  the  French  leaders.  The  same  leaders  had  be- 
trayed France  in  Spain  and  Czechoslovakia.  Was  there  any  guar- 
antee that  they  would  not  betray  France  again? 

With  added  war  powers  to  inflate  him,  Daladier  was  making  him- 
self a  putty  dictator.  He  could  pout  and  be  silent  like  a  dictator.  But 
he  was  weak.  He  postponed  reaching  a  decision.  When  he  finally 
made  a  decision  he  ate  out  his  heart  lest  it  be  the  wrong  one.  Strong 
minds  took  advantage  of  Daladier's  weakness.  They  imposed  on  him 
and  misled  him.  "Libert6,  Egalite,  Fraternit6,"  was  die  French  revolu- 
tionary motto.  Now  wits  changed  that  and  said,  "Egalit6,  Fraternit6, 
Daladier."  He  was  a  bad  substitute. 

Anti-Fascist  propaganda  was  unwelcome  to  the  French  authori- 
ties. France,  they  said,  was  fighting  Germany,  not  Fascism.  German 
anti-Fascist  refugees,  more  anti-Hitler  than  most  Frenchmen,  were 
clapped  into  jail  and  concentration  camps  although  they  would  have 
eagerly  joined  the  struggle  against  Hider. 

Organizational  chaos  pervaded  the  national  scene.  No  leader 
stirred  the  country  to  great  effort  or  to  higher  emotions.  The  whole 
tone  of  France  was  flat.  Officers  on  leave  after  short  sojourns  in 
the  Maginot  Line  said  that  Germany's  West  Wall  could  never  be 
pierced;  it  brisded  with  electrically  operated  guns.  A  heavy  pall  of 
defeatism  hung  over  Paris. 

There  was  no  sense  in  remaining  in  Paris  and  I  went  to  London, 
crossing  the  Channel  through  a  cordon  of  British  destroyers.  My 
first  evening  there,  John  Gunther  and  Knickerbocker  gave  a  dinner 
to  Stephen  Litauer,  the  leading  Polish  correspondent  in  London.  Po- 
land had  been  knocked  out  by  German  and  Soviet  collusion,  and 
the  dinner  was  a  litde  tribute  to  his  country  and  to  him.  Major  Cazal- 
let,  Conservative  M.P.,  was  there,  also  Vernon  Bardett,  Independent 
M.P.  and  journalist,  Victor  Gordon-Lennox,  diplomatic  corre- 
spondent of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  Ex-Premier  Van  Zeeland  of  Bel- 
gium, Webb  Miller  of  the  United  Press,  who  later  met  death  in  a 
blackout  accident,  Frederick  Kuh  of  the  United  Press,  Fred  Bate 
of  an  American  radio  company,  and  Charles  Peake,  chief  of  the 
press  department  of  the  Foreign  Office.  We  talked  until  midnight. 
Criticism  was  divided  pretty  evenly  between  the  British  govern- 
ment, for  stupidity,  and  France,  for  inactivity.  Van  Zeeland  said 
Belgium  would  fight  if  invaded  and  he  did  not  mind  being  quoted. 

The  frankness  with  which  the  British  spoke  astounded  me.  Politi- 


616      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

cal  life  flowed  on.  The  war  had  not  congealed  thought;  it  had  not, 
therefore,  paralyzed  action  or  banished  the  possibility  of  change. 
England  was  freer  in  war  than  under  the  tight-fisted,  one-man  ap- 
peasement regime  of  Neville  Chamberlain.  From  M.P.  to  bus  driver 
and  hotel  waiter,  men  fearlessly  expressed  views  opposed  to  those  of 
the  government.  You  could  be  pro-war,  anti-war,  for  immediate 
peace  with  Hitler;  you  could  justify  Hitler,  praise  Stalin,  condemn 
Halifax,  swear  at  Churchill,  say  what  you  pleased.  Totalitarian  neck 
muscles  were  completely  undeveloped.  (They  were  beginning  to 
develop  in  Paris.)  No  one  looked  around  to  see  whether  anybody 
was  listening  or  watching.  Aneurin  Sevan,  wasp-tongued,  tempes- 
tuous, brilliant  husband  of  Jenny  Lee  and  left-wing  Labor  M.P., 
banged  his  fist  on  the  marble  table  of  the  Cafe  Royal  and  yelled, 
"This  bloody  war  will  be  over  by  Christmas.  I'll  bet  you  a  quid  the 
Chamberlains  will  sell  us  out  again," 

The  war,  I  felt,  brought  England  a  sense  of  exhilaration.  Retreat 
had  ended.  Bloodless  surrender  in  the  face  of  the  threats  of  maraud- 
ing Fascist  despots  had  ceased.  The  British  people  had  enjoyed  the 
peace  which  Chamberlain  gave  them  but  they  were  ashamed  of  the 
way  he  got  it.  They  put  no  faith  in  its  permanence.  It  ran  against 
the  grain  of  the  average  Englishman  to  betray  the  Spaniards,  Czechs, 
and  Chinese  and  to  scrap  the  League  of  Nations,  while  exposing  the 
Empire  to  growing  perils. 

With  the  outbreak  of  the  war  the  British  people  seemed  to  come 
into  its  own.  It  gained  in  self-respect  because  it  gained  in  responsi- 
bility. Nowadays  nations  do  not  go  to  war.  War  comes  to  them. 
There  are  no  restricted  battlefields  off  in  the  farmlands  where  few 
people  live.  Every  street  is  a  battlefield.  Every  backyard  is  a  trench. 
The  people  fight.  People  fight  better  if  they  rule.  British  political 
genius  understood  this;  France  did  not  understand  it.  Britain  girded 
its  loins  for  action.  It  was  fighting  first  for  survival.  But  the  British 
people  were  also  fighting  for  what  Hitler  took  away  from  Germans 
and  would  take  away  from  them:  trade  unions,  political  parties,  and 
the  freedom  to  do  and  say  what  they  pleased: 

The  British  Communist  party,  always  an  enemy  of  appeasement 
and  an  advocate  of  resistance  to  Fascist  aggression,  naturally  sup- 
ported the  war  from  the  start.  A  manifesto  issued  by  the  Communist 
Central  Committee  on  September  2,  1939  said,  "Now  that  the  war 
has  come,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  the  policy  of  the  Com- 
munist party.  We  are  in  support  of  all  necessary  measures  to  secure 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  617 

the  victory  of  democracy  over  Fascism."  (They  still  called  it  de- 
mocracy and  Fascism.) 

Harry  Pollitt,  secretary  of  the  British  Communist  party,  pub- 
lished a  pamphlet  with  the  imprint  of  his  organization,  entitled, 
"How  to  Win  the  War."  Pollitt  is  a  former  workingman  and  was 
very  popular  and  respected  even  among  non-Communists.  Written 
after  September  3,  and  widely  distributed  by  Communists,  the  pam- 
phlet declared  that,  "The  Communist  party  supports  the  war,  be- 
lieving it  to  be  a  just  war  which  should  be  supported  by  the  whole 
working  class  and  all  friends  of  democracy  in  Britain." 

But  some  Trotzkyists  and  ultra-radicals  might  oppose  the  war  as 
an  imperialist  war.  Harry  Pollitt  answered  them.  "To  stand  aside 
from  this  conflict,"  he  wrote,  "to  contribute  only  revolutionary- 
sounding  phrases  while  the  Fascist  beasts  ride  roughshod  over  Eu- 
rope, would  be  a  betrayal  of  everything  our  forbears  have  fought 
to  achieve  in.  the  course  of  long  years  of  struggle  against  capital- 
ism." But  today  Pollitt's  party,  and  other  Communist  parties,  are 
using  those  "revolutionary-sounding  phrases"  and  are  standing  aside. 

When  did  the  betrayal  commence?  On  September  17,  1939,  when 
orders  came  from  Moscow  for  a  new  line.  What  had  changed?  The 
war  was  the  same  on  September  17  as  on  September  3.  Chamberlain 
was  no  more  reactionary,  the  British  empire  no  more  imperialistic. 
The  Nazi-Soviet  pact  had  been  signed  before  September  3.  Every- 
thing was  the  same.  But  the  instructions  from  Moscow  were  different. 

"The  British  workers,"  wrote  Harry  Pollitt  in  his  pamphlet,  "are 
in  this  war  to  defeat  Hitler,  for  a  German  victory  would  mean  that 
Fascism  would  be  imposed  on  the  defeated  countries."  But  after  Sep- 
tember 17,  the  British  Communists  apparently  did  not  mind  that; 
they  began  to  sabotage  Britain's  war  effort  and  to  use  "revolution- 
ary-sounding phrases."  They  wanted  the  war  to  end  with  a  nego- 
tiated peace  which,  inevitably,  would  be  a  Hitler  victory.  Pollitt, 
however,  had  asserted  that  the  Communist  party  "will  do  every- 
thing it  can  to  bring  the  war  to  a  speedy  conclusion,  but  only  by 
the  defeat  and  destruction  of  Hitler."  It  is  not  Pollitt  alone  who  said 
these  things.  Communist  parties  throughout  the  world  follow  the 
same  general  line  decreed  by  Moscow;  Pollitt  revealed  what  Moscow 
thought  at  the  time,  except  that  Moscow  was  a  bit  late  in  this  case 
in  countermanding  earlier  instructions.  On  September  17,  by  virtue 
of  a  foreign  radiogram,  the  war  became  an  imperialist  war,  no  longer 
a  just  war,  no  longer  a  war  for  democracy,  no  longer  a  people's  war. 


618      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

When  the  Communist  government  of  Russia  engaged  in  aggres- 
sion, Communists  elsewhere  took  a  more  charitable  view  of  Hitler 
aggression.  The  Communists  discontinued  their  boycott  of  German 
goods.  They  did  not,  however,  discontinue  their  boycott  of  Japa- 
nese goods.  Why  not?  Was  Germany  less  of  an  aggressor  than 
Japan?  No.  But  the  Soviet  government  had  not  yet  settled  its  dif- 
ferences with  Japan. 

The  blackout  in  London  was  really  black,  much  blacker  than 
in  Paris,  and  you  either  tried  to  develop  a  sense  of  touch  in  your 
sole  as  you  pushed  towards  a  curb  or  you  turned  on  your  pocket 
•flashlight  at  regular  intervals.  Few  people  entertained,  and  events 
on  the  world  stage  rather  made  the  theater  a  lesser  attraction. 
I  usually  dined  and  spent  the  evening  in  the  Cafe  Royal  which 
was  frequented  by  journalists,  artists,  Bohemians,  and  people  who 
came  to  look  at  them.  I  would  grope  down  the  Strand  and  across 
Piccadilly  Circus  and  then,  late  at  night,  often  with  Frank  Hani- 
ghen,  grope  back  again.  At  one  corner,  a  soprano  voice  called  out, 
"Hello,  darling,"  and  its  owner  lit  up  her  face  with  a  flashlight.  The 
next  second  a  deep  bass  tone  cried,  "Daily  Worker"  On  the  Strand 
and  in  other  main  thoroughfares,  Communists  sold  the  Daily 
Worker  day  and  night,  and  I  often  saw  them  push  it  into  the  faces 
of  soldiers  in  uniform.  The  British  government  was  too  secure  in 
its  faith  in  the  common  sense  of  its  citizens  to  fear  their  conversion 
to  the  Communist  policy  of  peace  with  Hitler.  Peace  with  Hitler, 
the  people  said,  means  Hitler  in  England,  terror,  torture,  anti-Semi- 
tism, lower  standards  of  living,  private  life  according  to  official 
instructions.  "Is  that  what  the  Communists  now  want?"  London 
asked.  Chamberlain  did  not  dread  a  Communist-inspired  defeatist, 
pacifist  movement  among  the  masses  because  he  knew  too  well  that 
he  had  declared  war  on  Hitler  under  the  pressure  from  those  very 
masses.  Let  the  Communists  drown  in  their  own  drivel,  was  the  Brit- 
ish tactic. 

I  spent  the  weekend  of  September  23,  24,  and  25  in  the  straw- 
thatched  country  cottage  of  Kingsley  Martin,  editor  of  the  New 
Statesman  and  Nation.  Kingsley  gloried  in  the  leaning  walls,  worm- 
wood beams  and  creaking  floors  of  the  hut  which  dated  back  cen- 
turies. Before  dinner  every  evening  he  went  to  the  pub  near  by  to 
play  games  arid  talk  with  the  farmers  who  came  in  for  their  bitter 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  619 

or  ale.  The  city  had  invaded  the  country.  First  the  children  arrived, 
evacues  from  London.  Then  the  parents  visited  the  children.  The 
two  kingdoms—city  and  country—were  for  the  first  time  getting 
acquainted  with  one  another.  The  beginning  of  knowledge  was  irri- 
tation. The  kids  got  in  the  way  of  tie  animals  or  pulled  their  tails 
and  let  them  loose  into  the  fields.  Mamma's  arrival  robbed  Mr.  Smith 
of  his  traditional  Sunday  afternoon  nap.  A  schoolmaster  dropped 
in  on  Kingsley.  The  war  had  provoked  a  feud  between  urban  and 
village  teachers.  The  London  schoolteachers  thought  they  were  far 
superior  to  the  village  pedagogues.  But  these,  in  turn,  saw  at  every 
turn  the  ignorance  and  helplessness  of  the  metropolitan  educators. 
Gradually,  however,  things  were  getting  ironed  out.  Walls  of  brick, 
and  mortar  were  tumbling  in  England  as  a  result  of  the  war.  Social 
walls  too  were  beginning  to  topple. 

One  afternoon  Kingsley  Martin,  Dorothy  Woodman,  and  I  drove 
the  short  distance  to  the  country  home  of  Harold  J.  Laski  and  stayed 
for  dinner.  The  professor  of  political  science  and  master  of  English 
had  a  new  assignment;  he  had  taken  in  two  young  Cockney  boys 
from  Whitechapel  and  his  ambition  was  to  teach  them  not  to  drop 
their  H's. 

With  Kingsley  and  Laski  the  war  as  a  topic  of  conversation  soon 
yielded  to  Soviet  policy  and  the  new  Communist  line.  In  1937,  Laski 
had  asked  me  to  explain  the  Moscow  trials  and  purges  and  now  he 
quoted  one  phrase  back  at  me.  I  had  attributed  them,  in  part,  to 
Stalin's  "pathological  psychology";  Trotzky  was  a  major  phobia  in 
his  mental  make-up. 

"Is  it  weakness  due  to  the  purges,"  Laski  wondered,  "that  pro- 
duced the  pact  with  Hitler?"  It  was  that  and  Moscow's  desire  to 
appeal  to  the  Russian  nationalism  of  the  peasant  masses  by  regaining 
old  Russian  lands;  it  was  the  temptation  to  grab  what  could  be 
grabbed;  it  was  the  hope  that  territorial  acquisitions  would  make 
citizens  forget  the  economic  stagnation  arising  out  of  the  purges;  it 
was  the  great  lure  of  appeasement,  of  staying  out  of  war  a  little  while 
longer.  Englishmen  ought  to  understand  that  best.  It  had  been  their 
policy  for  years. 

Laski  liked  Harry  Pollitt.  So  did  many  Laborites.  A  week  earlier 
Harry  Pollitt  had  been  dismissed  as  secretary  and  chief  of  the  Com- 
munist party.  But  he  had  merely,  been  expressing  the  party's  Mos- 
cow viewpoint  until  it  changed.  In  the  October,  1938,  Labour 
Monthly,  official  organ  of  the  British  Communists,  he  had  written, 


620      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

"It  is  said  that  democracy,  so  long  as  it  rests  on  the  basis  of  capi- 
talist economy,  is  not  worth  defending.  It  is  worth  while  dealing 
with  this  is  in  some  detail.  .  .  .  Democracy  is  not  abstract.  ...  It 
means  that  the  people  have  definite  rights,  the  right  to  organize, 
the  right  to  strike,  the  right  to  vote,  the  right  to  free  speech.  Those 
that  tell  us  there  is  nothing  to  choose  between  Fascism  and  bourgeois 
democracy  should  take  the  trouble  to  find  out  what  the  workers 
suffer  in  Fascist  countries.  .  .  .  Our  party  can  take  its  stand  in  the 
forefront  of  the  fight  for  democracy  against  Fascism."  This  was 
good  Communist  sense.  In  contra-distinction,  the  present  Communist 
line  is  hypocrisy.  And  nonsense. 

The  policy  of  "revolutionary-sounding  phrases"  followed  inev- 
itably on  the  Nazi-Soviet  pact.  The  Communists  outside  Russia 
could  not  remain  pro-democratic  and  anti-Fascist  after  August  23, 
1939.  For  if  the  foreign  Communist  parties  had  supported  England, 
France,  and  the  United  States  against  Germany  and  Italy,  they 
would  have  been  faced  with  the  unanswerable  question,  "And  why 
isn't  Soviet  Russia  also  against  Germany  and  Italy?"  Weakness?  But 
Communists  would  not  admit  the  weakness  of  the  Soviet  regime. 
Reaction  in  Soviet  Russia?  Communists  would  not  admit  that.  The 
non-Soviet  Communists  had  to  take  the  same  line  as  the  Soviet  gov- 
ernment or  expose  the  faults  of  the  Soviet  government.  To  justify 
their  anti-British  position,  however,  the  Communists  did  not  say, 
"We  are  not  pro-British  because  Russia  is  not  pro-British."  Instead 
they  said,  "We  are  not  pro-British  because  England  is  imperialistic 
and  reactionary." 

John  Strachey  and  his  wife  Celia  came  over  Saturday  afternoon 
and  we  argued  for  hours.  John,  cricket  champion  and  Marxist  in- 
terpreter, accepted  the  new  Communist  stand.  He  said  if  Russia  was 
a  Socialist  country  then  everything  it  did  was  in  the  interest  of 
socialism.  We  threw  Marx  and  Lenin  quotations  at  one  another  and 
engaged  in  verbal  dog-fights.  John  was  not  to  be  dissuaded.  Months 
later,  however,  he  saw  things  very  differently  and  enlisted  in  the 
British  home  defense  and  later  in  the  RAF. 

Those  who  continue,  in  violation  of  fact  and  logic,  to  justify 
Stalin,  involve  themselves  in  contradictions.  In  September,  1938,  Rus- 
sia was  ready  to  fight  on  the  side  of  England  and  France  for  Czecho- 
slovakia, Did  that  mean  that  England  and  France  were  less  reaction- 
ary and  imperialistic  in  1938  than  in  1939?  Obviously  not.  In  1938, 
Soviet  Defense  Commissar  Voroshilov  complained  that  Poland  would 


EUROPE  AT  WAR 

not  permit  the  Red  Army  to  enter  its  territory  and  save  it  from 
aggression.  Later  Moscow  called  Poland  a  semi-Fascist  state.  So  the 
Bolsheviks  wished  to  protect  a  semi-Fascist  state  against  attack.  Then 
why  not  help  England  and  France?  The  Soviet  government  was 
delivering  large  quantities  of  arms  to  Chiang  Kai-shek.  But  Chiang 
Kai-shek  had  executed  more  Communists  than  any  non-Communist 
in  the  world.  Yet  Communists  say,  without  blushing,  that  they  can- 
not side  with  England  because  it  is  bourgeois  and  reactionary? 

The  same  insincerity  characterized  Communist  defense  of  the 
Soviet  attack  on  Finland  later  in  1939.  The  Communists  and  the  other 
defenders  of  Russian  policy  alleged  that  it  was  necessary  for  Stalin 
to  seize  certain  portions  of  Finland  because  they  menaced  Leningrad, 
the  second  largest  Soviet  city.  In  June,  1930,  Stalin  said,  "we  do  not 
want  a  single  foot  of  foreign  territory  but  we  will  not  surrender 
a  single  inch  of  our  territory  to  anyone."  This  immediately  became 
a  popular  slogan.  It  was  carried  on  banners  and  posters.  It  became 
the  subject  of  articles,  speeches,  and  pamphlets.  It  was  repeated  mil- 
lions of  times  throughout  the  years,  until  1939.  Stalin  did  not  say  we 
want  no  foreign  territory  except  the  Mannerheim  Line.  He  did  not 
say  we  want  no  foreign  territory  except  a  section  of  Finland  from 
which  Leningrad  can  be  attacked.  He  said,  "We  want  not  a  single 
foot  of  foreign  territory." 

I  lived  in  the  Soviet  Union  for  fourteen  years.  I  never  once  heard 
the  argument  that  Leningrad  was  menaced  by  Finland.  I  never  heard 
that  the  British  and  French  built  the  Mannerheim  Line.  Soviet  sources 
suspected,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  Germans  had  a  hand  in  con- 
structing it.  Moscow  charged  that  England  and  France  had  helped 
Finland  to  arm.  But  we  know  from  Soviet  official  sources  that  Eng- 
land and  France  also  helped  Russia  to  arm.  Normally,  arms  merchants 
sell  to  all  who  pay. 

The  workingmen  of  England  were  staunchly  behind  the  war. 
They  grumbled  against  hardships  and  defended  their  rights.  They 
hoped  the  war  would  end  with  more  democracy  and  real  people's 
rule.  They  were  fighting  Hitler  and  Chamberlain,  the  Fascists  abroad 
and  the  Tories  at  home.  The  alternative  was  to  surrender  to  Hitler 
and  lose  everything. 

On  the  Right  wing  of  the  Labor  party  there  were  still  some  ap- 
peasers,  and  the  fact  that  Russia  had  adopted  au  appeaser  role  made 
these  conservative  Laborites  more  pro-Soviet.  But  I  must  have  spoken 
at  length  to  at  least  twenty  Labor  MJP.'s  and  they  all  declared  that 


622      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

their  constituents  were  strongly  pro-war.  To  obtain  data  on  this 
point  I  went  to  John  Middleton,  secretary  of  the  Labor  party  whom 
I  had  known  before.  He  sat  at  his  desk  and  read  thousands  of  let- 
ters from  individual  workingmen  and  from  Labor  party  leaders, 
speakers,  and  organizers  in  the  provinces.  He  said  the  sentiment  was 
overwhelmingly  for  the  energetic  prosecution  of  the  war,  but  also 
for  non-participation  in  a  government  with  Chamberlain.  Labor  re- 
membered the  decorative  role  which  its  representatives  played  in  the 
Cabinet  during  the  first  World  War. 

Herbert  Morrison  held  the  same  view.  Ellen  Wilkinson  arranged 
a  small  lunch  in  the  House  of  Commons  so  that  I  could  have  a  long 
talk  with  Morrison.  I  asked  her  to  invite  Leland  Stowe  of  the  Chi- 
cago Daily  News  and  New  York  Post,  which  she  did.  I  sat  at  Mor- 
rison's left,  on  the  side  of  his  one  seeing  eye.  "Herb,"  or  "  'Erb,"  as 
Londoners  know  him,  is  a  former  workingman.  He  looks  and  reacts 
like  a  workingman.  He  is  chairman  of  the  London  County  Council 
which  involves  the  tremendous  administrative  job  of  running  the 
whole  economy  of  the  second  largest  city  of  the  world.  If  one  man 
is  responsible  for  London's  being  able  to  "take  it,"  he  is  Herbert 
Morrison  who  equipped  the  city  with  the  fire-fighting  apparatus, 
the  transportation  facilities,  sanitation,  and  other  requirements  for 
standing  up  under  Hitler's  murderous  bombardments. 

Morrison  said  to  me,  "I  think  Labor  should  not  enter  the  gov- 
ernment. We  ought  to  keep  our  hands  clean  for  the  time,  which  will 
come  in  this  war,  when  vast  social  changes  must  be  made."  He  be- 
came a  leading  figure  in  the  Churchill  government  a  few  months 
later.  The  social  changes  had  started  not  in  a  sudden  cataclysmic 
form  but  with  gradual  insistence.  Moreover,  Labor's  collaboration 
was  necessary  to  get  Chamberlain  out  of  No.  10  Downing  Street 
and  Churchill  into  it.  Morrison  early  understood  that  the  war  was 
more  than  an  international  war.  It  was  concurrently  a  civil  wan 
Class  was  competing  with  class  for  political  power  while  at  the  same 
time  the  classes  collaborated  against  a  foreign  enemy  who  wished 
to  destroy  them  all.  In  1917,  Lenin  urged  converting  the  imperialist 
war  into  a  civil  war  in  each  country.  The  second  World  War  was 
both  simultaneously.  To  conduct  only  one  meant  to  lose  the  other. 
To  conduct  the  war  only  as  an  imperialist  war—as  Daladier  tried  to 
do— robbed  the  government  of  popular  support.  To  conduct  it  only 
as  a  civil  war  would  open  the  door  to  Hitler.  Lenin's  civil  war  in 
Russia  actually  did  open  the  door  to  the  Kaiser  who  imposed  the 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  623 

Brest-Litovsk  treaty  and  took  the  Ukraine  and  the  Crimea  from 
the  Bolsheviks  while  the  Turks  seized  part  of  the  Caucasus.  If  Ger- 
many had  won  that  war,  it  would  very  probably  have  crushed  the 
Bolshevik  revolution.  It  is  a  strange  paradox  that  the  United  States 
by  helping  the  Allies  win  in  1918,  saved  the  Bolshevik  regime. 

After  the  lunch  I  walked  with  Herbert  Morrison  down  the  cor- 
ridor to  the  central  lobby  of  the  House  and  asked  him  whether  he 
would  not  try  to  get  me  an  appointment  with  Winston  Churchill 
He  immediately  walked  into  the  Members'  writing  room,  and  wrote 
me  a  letter  of  introduction  which  I  could  mail  to  Churchill.  Then 
he  entered  the  chamber.  I  stood  talking  to  Ellen  Wilkinson.  Before 
long  Morrison  came  out  and  said  to  me,  "I  just  talked  to  Winston. 
He  wants  you  to  communicate  with  his  secretary." 

I  wrote  to  Brendan  Bracken,  M.P.,  Churchill's  young  secretary. 
I  used  to  meet  Bracken  at  John  Strachey's  house  in  Westminster 
when  John  was  a  Labor  M.P. 

Bracken  wrote  that  Churchill  would  see  me  at  the  Admiralty  at 
5  P.M.  on  October  12.  The  morning  of  that  day  I  was  instructed 
tQ  present  myself  at  3.30  instead.  Later  the  hour  was  altered  to  6.30. 
I  arrived  at  6.15,  and  Churchill  received  me  immediately. 

I  had  no  sooner  entered  the  big  room  than  Churchill  said,  "Have 
a  drink?"  And  he  walked  over  to  a  small  table  on  which  stood  a 
bottle  of  whiskey,  several  glasses  and  a  soda  siphon.  I  said  I  rarely 
drank.  He  said,  "Will  you?"  I  said,  "Yes."  He  had  just  poured  in 
the  whiskey  when  Bracken  opened  the  door  and  told  him  that  Mar- 
gesson  was  on  the  phone.  David  Margesson  was  the  chief  Conserva- 
tive whip  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  other  words,  the  boss  of 
the  Conservative  party.  Churchill  left  the  room  to  take  the  call  and 
I  remained  alone.  I  squirted  some  soda  into  the  glass— it  was  the  first 
time  I  ever  made  a  whiskey-and-soda— and  perched  myself  on  the 
ledge  of  a  bookcase  that  stood  against  the  back  wall  of  the  room 
and  looked  around  at  the  large  papier-mach6  globe  brown  with  age, 
the  big  chairs  covered  with  bright  red  leather,  the  large  wall  maps, 
and  the  huge  desk. 

When  Churchill  came  back  after  a  few  minutes,  he  said,  "Have 
you  had  your  drink?" 

"I  have  it,"  I  replied.  "Shall  I  pour  you  one?" 

"No,"  he  said.  "I've  had  mine  this  afternoon." 

We  sat  opposite  one  another  at  a  small  round  table.  He  smoked 
a  very  fat  cigar  and  dropped  ashes  on  his  vest  and  occasionally 


624      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

brushed  them  off  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  Across  his  vest  was  a 
gold  chain  of  big  links.  His  eyes  look  watery  and  tired.  His  face 
is  huge  and  flabby  and  the  lips  have  a  fleshy  droop.  Yet  the  total 
impression  is  power.  The  upper  half  of  his  face  is  intellect,  the  lower 
half  British  bulldog.  He  speaks  with  a  slight  impediment,  and  his 
s's  have  a  suspicion  of  s-h.  He  let  me  stay  for  thirty  minutes.  I  talked 
much  in  the  first  five  minutes  and  the  rest  of  the  time  he  replied  to 
my  brief  questions.  I  enjoyed  his  English.  He  rolls  out  an  ordinary 
sentence  with  the  rounded  finish  and  force  of  a  carefully  polished 
work  of  art.  Churchill's  English  has  the  simple  power  of  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Bible.  His  nouns  are  pictures  and  his  verbs  work, 

I  think  his  strength  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  doubts  and  does  not 
doubt.  He  is  coldly  critical  of  his.  own  country's  weaknesses  and 
mistakes*  Enthusiasm  does  not  blunt  analysis;  hopes  do  not  distort 
facts.  He  thinks  while  he  fights.  He  dares  to  have  thoughts  and 
doubts  about  conditions  because  he  has  no  doubts  about  his  course 
of  action.  He  knows  what  he  wants  to  do.  There  is  no  way  back. 
There  is  only  the  struggle.  The  civilized  brain  in  the  upper  story 
does  not  hamper  the  animal  determination  in  the  lower  story.  * 

Neville  Chamberlain  could  not  be  a  good  war  leader  because  he 
had  prepared  his  mind  for  peace.  But  ever  since  the  advent  of  Hitler 
in  1933,  Winston  Churchill  had  prepared  his  mind,  and  had  wished 
to  prepare  his  country,  for  war.  When  war  came  Churchill  was 
brought  into  the  government.  Soon  Churchill  headed  the  govern- 
ment and  spoke  for  England.  He  is  England.  The  Englishman  is 
narrowly  insular,  yet  made  broadly  international  by  the  empire  and 
trade.  He  is  rooted  deep  in  the  old  rock  of  the  isle  but  he  reacts  to 
changes  in  the  world's  weather.  For  every  Conservative  Briton  who 
looks  backward  there  are  at  least  three  who  see  national  survival  in 
terms  of  progress  and  adaptation.  In  social  legislation  and  civil  lib- 
erties, Great  Britain  was  always  far  in  advance  of  any  other  great 
power.  Churchill,  I  could  see,  is  a  fervid  devotee  of  freedom.  It  is 
not  merely  a  war  motto  or  a  war  aim,  but  a  component  part  of  his 
life  fiber.  Of  course,  there  is  India.  That  is  a  serious  blemish-  But 
whose  mentality  has  no  blind  spots?  Like  Lloyd  George,  Churchill 
is  capable  of  indignation,  passion,  hard  work,  and  bluntness.  He 
convinces  others  not  so  much  with  words  as  by  the  contagiously 
axiomatic  nature  of  his  own  convictions.  "There  will  always  be  an 
England"  is  very  Churchillian— and  very  British. 

Two  weeks  before  I  saw  Churchill  he  said  in  a  speech,  "Russia 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  625 

is  a  riddle  wrapped  in  mystery  inside  an  enigma.  But,"  he  added, 
"there  is  a  key."  I  discussed  the  key  with  him.  We  discussed  other 
subjects  too. 

Unfortunately,  my  interview  with  Churchill  was  "off  the  rec- 
ord." I  asked  him  whether  I  could  quote  one  striking  sentence  and 
he  said,  "Better  not."  At  the  end  of  twenty  minutes,  Bracken  stuck 
in  his  red  head  and  announced,  "You  'have  another  appointment, 
sir,"  but  we  had  not  yet  circumnavigated  the  globe  and  Churchill 
could  not  drop  me  in  a  distant  country.  He  took  me  home  to  the 
United  States. 

During  this  wartime  stay  in  London  I  also  had  an  interview  with 
Sir  Robert  Vansittart,  the  chief  diplomatic  officer  of  the  British  For- 
eign Office.  I  liked  him  very  much.  He  is  informal  and  possesses  a 
prodigious  knowledge  of  diplomacy,  history,  and  geography.  For 
that  reason  probably,  and  also  because  he  was  one  hundred  percent 
anti-German  during  the  worst  Chamberlain  era  of  appeasement,  he 
was  unceremoniously  shelved  and  allowed  to  sit  in  has  office  doing 
very  little  of  importance  while  Chamberlain  used  Sir  Horace  Wil- 
son, an  official  labor  disputes  arbitrator,  as  his  diplomatic  adviser. 
Sir  Horace  accompanied  Chamberlain  to  Germany,  went  as  Cham- 
berlain's special  emissary  to  Hitler  in  the  last  week  of  September, 
1938,  and  was  more  active  in  foreign  affairs  than  Vansittart  or  even 
Halifax.  Meanwhile  Vansittart  used  the  time  that  lay  heavily  on  his 
hands  writing  plays,  move  scenarios,  and  poems.  He  looks  as  a  poet 
never  should,  burly  and  tough. 

British  permanent  officials  cannot  talk  for  publication  even  when 
they  are  very  angry,  and  that  was  the  understanding  on  which  Van- 
sittart agreed  to  see  me.  He  talked  of  many  things  with  wisdom  and 
penetration,  and  asked  me  to  come  back  again. 

That  same  week,  Kennedy  received  me  in  the  United  States  Em- 
bassy. He  feared  that  "world  economy  would  soon  take  a  nose  dive." 
The  essential  component  element  in  the  appeasers'  "peace  for  our 
time"  was  money  for  our  time.  Kennedy's  concern  on  this  score  ex- 
ceeded even  Chamberlain's.  He  had  more  sympathy  for  the  policy 
of  Chamberlain  and  did  more  for  it  than  for  that  of  Roosevelt.  Jtjg 
saw^the^o^^  thejdgjbi;  madk  He  got  on  best 

with  Chamberlain  and  worst  with  Churchill. 

I  had  tea  one  afternoon  with  Sir  Stafford  Cripps  in  the  House  of 
Commons  and  then  he  invited  me  to  lunch  with  Lady  Cripps  at  the 


626      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

English  Speaking  Union.  Cripps  is  gaunt,  gentle,  smiling,  idealistic, 
and  able.  One  of  Britain's  best  lawyers,  he  used  to  give  half  his  earn- 
ings—said to  be  $100,000  a  year— to  various  Left  causes.  When  the 
war  started  he  dropped  all  his  professional  work  and  devoted  him- 
self to  politics.  People  trust  his  integrity.  Like  Lord  Halifax,  he  is  an 
Anglo-Catholic.  The  two  of  them  are  friends.  He  had  been  seeing 
Halifax  often  and  was  preparing  to  go  on  a  world  trip  which  would 
take  him  to  India  for  conversations  with  Gandhi,  Nehru,  and  the 
Viceroy,  to  China  for  talks  with  Chiang  Kai-shek,  and  to  Moscow 
for  an  audience  with  Molotov.  On  the  return  trip  he  came  through 
New  York  where  he  breakfasted  with  me  in  my  hotel  room.  He 
eats  only  raw  vegetables  and  raw  fruit,  and  drinks  coif ee  copiously. 
In  London,  I  exposed  Soviet  foreign  policy  in  the  realistic  light  in 
which  I  thought  I  saw  it.  Sir  Stafford,  however,  was  sanguine.  His 
subsequent  appointment  as  British  Ambassador  to  Moscow  demon- 
strated that  Churchill  did  not  hesitate  to  go  as  far  to  the  Left  as 
possible  in  picking  a  man  persona  grata  to  the  Bolsheviks.  If  Cripps 
got  nowhere,  it  would  prove  that  the  difficulty  was  not  personal. 

Tea  in  the  House  of  Commons  with  Lady  Rhondda,  owner  of 
coal  mines  and  of  the  weekly  journal  Time  and  Tide.  But  neither  I 
nor  she  could  pay  for  it.  We  had  to  wait  till  a  friendly  M.P.  arrived 
to  pay  the  check.  ...  I  went  to  the  Ivy  Restaurant  with  a  fellow 
journalist.  At  the  end  of  the  meal  I  said,  "Check,  please,"  to  the 
waiter.  After  ten  minutes  I  hadn't  yet  received  it.  Finally,  he  brought 
me  a  blank  check.  All  sorts  of  whispered  negotiations  had  gone  on 
to  ascertain  whether  I  was  a  steady  customer  whose  check  was  good. 
I  had  wanted  the  bill.  .  .  .  Lunch  with  Sir  Archibald  Sinclair,  later 
Minister  of  Air,  and  Wilfrid  Roberts,  both  Liberal  M JP.'s.  .  .  .  Din- 
ner with  Sef ton  Delmer  of  the  Daily  Express  and  his  wife.  He  showed 
movies  he  had  taken  while  flying  with  Hitler  in  an  airplane.  He 
told  us  Hitler  does  not  like  to  be  seen  eating.  .  .  .  Interview  with 
Rushdi  Aras,  the  Turkish  Ambassador.  Interview  with  Raschinsky, 
the  Polish  Ambassador.  Dinner  with  Helen  Kirkpatrick  of  the  Chi- 
cago Daily  News  and  Victor  Gordon-Lennox.  Tea  with  Hamish 
Hamilton,  publisher,  who  had  volunteered  for  the  R.A.F.,  and  Miss 
Jean  Forbes-Robertson,  sister  of  Diana  Sheean.  Dinner  with  Labor 
M.P.  Dobbie,  a  former  railway  worker  who  beamed  because  I  had 
nicknamed  him  "Doctor"  in  Spain.  Talks  with  Hugh  Dalton,  Ad- 
miral Keyes,  Eleanor  Rathbone,  Robert  Boothby,  and  Edith  Sum- 
merskill,  MJP.'s  of  various  political  hues.  Dinner,  finally,  with  Fred- 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  627 

erick  Kuh  of  the  United  Press  and  his  wife,  Renata.  London  was 
full  of  excitement,  information,  impressions,  political  life,  political 
events.  After  three  weeks  of  it,  I  went  back  to  Paris. 

My  London  experiences,  especially  the  talk  with  Churchill,  made 
me  more  than  ever  certain  that  something  was  wrong  with  France. 
I  aired  my  apprehension  to  Andre  Malraux.  He  said,  "You  must  tell 
this  to  Andre  Maurois."  Maurois,  the  noted  French  author,  was  at  the 
Hotel  Continental  in  the  press  department  but  also  close  to  the  Gen- 
eral Staff  and  the  government.  He  had  just  been  appointed  liaison 
officer  with  the  British  army.  Malraux  arranged  a  date  for  me.  I  gave 
Maurois  my  impressions  of  England  and  spoke  of  the  contrast  I  saw 
between  the  live  democracy  of  England  and  the  dull  "dictatorship" 
of  Daladier.  He  said,  "You  must  speak  with  Herriot." 

"There  is  no  use,"  I  replied,  "complaining  to  someone  who  agrees 
with  you." 

He  said,  "Then  you  must  see  Paul  Reynaud."  He  also  offered  to 
arrange  an  interview  for  me  with  Alexis  Leger,  the  permanent  chief 
of  the  French  Foreign  Office,  Vansittart's  opposite  number.  I  saw 
Reynaud  in  his  big  cabinet  In  the  Finance  Ministry  on  October  24. 
I  remained  with  him  an  hour.  Reynaud  is  a  thin,  dapperly  dressed 
little  man  with  quick  movements,  most  unlike  Churchill  in  appear- 
ance. It  is  often  impossible  to  determine  a  person's  nationality  by  his 
looks.  (Accent  is  a  better  guide.)  You  spot  a  man  as  a  Swede  and 
he  turns  out  to  be  Czech.  Madame  Tabouis  could  be  an  English- 
woman, until  you  hear  her  speak.  Stalin  might  be  a  Greek.  But 
Churchill  could  not  be  French,  and  Reynaud  could  scarcely  be 
British. 

Reynaud  speaks  an  excellent  and  fluent  English.  The  interview 
with  him  was  also  "off  the  record,"  but  either  he  thought  he  had 
to  use  stiff  official  verbiage  with  me  or  he  thought  I  was  stupid 
enough  to  take  it  at  its  face  value.  When  I  suggested  that  part  of 
what  he  said  was  contradicted  by  facts  we  both  knew,  he  stepped 
down  into  charming,  communicative  informality.  He  even  said  I 
could  quote  several  of  his  specific  statements. 

I  asked  him  how  long  France  could  go  on  paying  cash  for  pur- 
chases in  America. 

He  said,  "At  the  present  rate,  for  two  years." 

I  said,  "It's  a  pity  you  didn't  spend  some  of  this  money  a  few 
years  ago  buying  airplanes  in  the  United  States." 


628      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

"Ah,"  he  commented,  "that  is  another  matter.  I  was  not  in  the 
government  then." 

Most  of  the  interview  was  spent  in  comparing  the  internal  regimes 
of  England  and  France.  I  said  that  one  of  Europe's  chief  ills  since 
1919  had  been  the  divergence  of  policy  between  London  and  Paris. 
Now  they  were  allies  fighing  side  by  side.  But  the  attitude  towards 
the  war  and  towards  civil  liberties  was  so  different  in  the  two  coun- 
tries that  I  could  foresee  potential  clashes  between  them  on  the  con- 
duct of  the  war  and  certainly  in  the  formulation  of  the  peace. 

I  gave  as  an  illustration  the  circumstance  that  Parliament  in  Eng- 
land functioned  with  real  effectiveness  whereas  in  France  it  was 
almost  an  offense  to  demand  the  convocation  of  the  Chamber.  He 
told  me  the  Chamber  would  meet  on  November  30. 1  argued  that  it 
depended  on  whether  it  would  meet  merely  as  a  rubber  stamp  for 
the  semi-dictatorship  or  as  the  mouthpiece  and  essential  weapon  of 
democracy. 

Reynaud  said  cryptically,  "Parliamentarism  is  shaped  by  the  rela- 
tionship between  the  head  of  the  government  and  the  leader  of  the 
opposition.  In  England  Mr.  Chamberlain  and  Mr.  Attlee  get  along 
well  together." 

This  was  a  large  part  of  the  story:  Daladier  could  not  stomach 
Blum.  Reynaud  and  Blum  were  on  friendly  terms.  The  implication 
of  Reynaud's  statement  was  that  if  he  became  premier  democracy 
would  be  revived.  Paris  knew  that  Reynaud's  ambition  tended  in 
this  direction.  Powerful  elements  in  the  General  Staff  preferred  Rey- 
naud's sprightly  dynamism  to  Daladier's  sluggish  sullenness.  It  was 
said  that  Gamelin  and  Reynaud  would  not  have  driven  the  French 
Communist  party  underground  where  it  could  work  efficiently  and 
pose  as  a  persecuted  martyr. 

Reynaud  thought  America  would  be  in  grave  danger  if  Germany 
won  the  war.  "In  1914,"  he  recalled,  "we  never  dreamed  of  the  arms 
that  we  were  using  in  1918.  This  war  will  see  the  birth  of  new 
weapons  and  the  perfection  of  old  ones  which  will  bring  the  United 
States  within  easier  range  of  European  armed  forces," 

I  went  to  talk  to  Reynaud,  and  later  to  Alexis  Leger,  because  I 
hope  to  make  them  aware  of  what  I  regarded  as  a  disturbing  discrep- 
ancy between  the  public  tempers  of  England  and  France,  When  I 
got  back  to  America  I  wrote  a  long  article  called,  "England  and 
France— A  Contrast."  It  was  submitted  to  several  monthly  maga- 
zines but  they  turned  it  down.  Events  in  Europe  were  moving  fast, 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  629 

and  editors  believed  that  my  sad  tale  of  French  flabbiness  might' soon 
be  out  of  date. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  forgive  France  for  the  heavy  heart  with 
which  her  people  entered  the  war.  I  wrote  in  that  article,  "When 
France  goes  to  war  her  whole  manhood  is  engaged.  I  take  my  hotel 
as  a  typical  example.  It  normally  employs  310  people.  By  Septem- 
ber 7,  four  days  after  the  declaration  of  war,  208  of  these  had  been 
summoned  into  the  army.  Of  the  102  who  remained  in  the  hotel,  25 
were  women,  15  minors,  and  the  others  men  over  age.  But  one  of 
the  managers  who  is  fifty-five  showed  me  his  reservist's  card.  In 
certain  circumstances  he  too  would  have  to  go. 

"A  single  waiter  was  left  for  the  floor  service  of  the  entire  big 
hotel.  He  ran,  puffing,  from  room  to  room  doing  his  bit  to  please 
the  remaining  guests  who  stuck  it  out  in  perturbed  times.  He  was 
thirty-seven.  Five  of  his  brothers  were  mobilized.  He  said,  'My  health 
is  bad.  Lungs.  But  my  turn  may  also  come  soon.'  On  my  return 
from  three  weeks  in  London  he  was  gone.  His  turn  had  come." 

Several  hours  before  leaving  for  Italy  I  had  an  interview  with 
Alexis  Leger.  Leger  had  held  his  position  as  real  inner  master  of 
the  international  affairs  of  his  country  for  many  years.  That  posi- 
tion is  one  to  conjure  up  a  picture  of  parchment-skinned  face,  of  a 
man  buried  in  treaty  texts  and  technical  f ormulas,  of  a  crafty,  schem- 
ing statesman  engaged  in  world-wide  intrigue,  of  a  cold  bureaucrat 
and  office  automaton.  Under  the  pseudonym  of  St.  Jean  Perse,  how- 
ever, Leger  wrote  a  long  poem  entitled  Anabase  which  was  trans- 
lated into  English  by  T.  S.  Eliot  and  has  influenced  the  work  of 
British  poets,  of  Archibald  MacLeish  in  America  and  many  others. 
He  has  also  published  poems  under  the  name  of  St.  Leger  Leger.  He 
speaks  an  exquisite  French  with  a  somewhat  un-French  accent.  He 
was  born  in  Martinique  in  1887,  and  the  scenes  of  his  life  and  work— 
the  East  and  the  West  Indies— are  more  suggestive  of  romance  and 
exotic  dances  than  of  cobweb-covered  archives  and  the  mazes  of 
diplomacy. 

Now  he  is  an  exile,  robbed  of  his  French  citizenship  by  the  author- 
ities in  Vichy.  If  he  had  had  his  way  there  would  have  been  little 
appeasement  and  perhaps  therefore  no  Vichy.  But  while  France  was 
crawling  before  Germany  in  the  pre-1939  days,  French  Foreign 
Ministers  used  him  as  an  executive  secretary  rather  than  as  a  diplo- 
mat with  initiative.  Downing  Street  did  the  same  with  Vansittart. 

I  sat  with  Leger  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  I  scarcely  opened  my 


630      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

mouth.  Andr6  Maurois  had  given  me  a  good  introduction,  and  Leger, 
besides,  knew  my  Soviets  in  World  Affairs.  After  we  had  exchanged 
initial  greetings  I  simply  told  him  that  I  was  going  to  Rome  that  eve- 
ning and  would  appreciate  his  views  on  the  Italian  situation.  He 
gave  me  an  analysis  that  was  worthy  of  a  wider  audience.  I  could 
see  the  perfect  mechanism  of  his  mind  sort  out  the  facts,  place  them 
before  me,  establish  the  proper  relationship  between  them,  and  then 
sew  them  all  together.  He  did  this  with  the  Polish  situation  too,  and 
the  Russian.  He  had  gone  to  Moscow  with  Laval,  whom  he  passion- 
ately detests,  in  May,  1935,  and  participated  in  the  negotiations  with 
Stalin.  I  believe  he  has  also  negotiated  with  Mussolini  and  Hitler;  he  is 
one  of  the  few  diplomats,  accordingly,  who  has  met  all  three  dicta- 
tors. President  Roosevelt  once  entertained  the  piquant  idea  of  bring- 
ing them  all  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  together  with  the  Prime  Minis- 
ters of  England  and  France.  That  was  before  the  war.  Among  jour- 
nalists and  writers  who  have  met  all  three  dictators,  I  can  think  only 
of  Roy  W.  Howard  and  Anne  O'Hare  McCormick  of  the  New 
York  Times. 

From  France-at-war  I  traveled  to  "neutral"  Italy.  Twenty-seven 
hours  from  Paris  to  Rome.  During  the  night  it  snowed  heavily  in 
the  Alps  but  in  the  morning  the  express  pulled  through  the  long 
Simplon  Pass  into  the  cuddling  warmth  of  Lombardy.  The  waters 
of  Lago  Maggiore  were  a  deep  blue  set  off  by  the  green  trees  and 
bright  flowers.  I  was  tempted  to  get  off  and  stay  and  play  at  Stresa. 

I  was  in  the  diner  when  the  train  entered  Italy  from  Switzerland. 
I  had  ordered  coffee.  If  the  waiter  had  moved  just  a  bit  faster  I  could 
have  had  it  on  my  table  in  Switzerland  and  drunk  it  in  Italy.  But 
now  he  came  to  me  and  said  it  was  against  the  law  to  serve  coffee  in 
Italy.  I  looked  at  him  angrily  and  then  suggestively.  He  poured  me 
one  cup,  and  later  another.  But  elsewhere  in  the  kingdom  of  II  Duce, 
the  injunction  is  strictly  observed.  In  Naples  I  was  offered  "autarchic 
coffee,"  the  first  mouthful  of  which  I  spat  into  my  napkin. 

The  train  stopped  at  Milan  for  three  hours.  I  rushed  to  the  famous, 
beautiful  cathedral.  A  squadron  of  Savoia-Marchetti  bombers  flew 
over  the  city.  The  same  type  had  dropped  bombs  on  Valencia,  Bar- 
celona, Figueras,  and  Tarragona  during  my  visits  there.  Now  the 
Italian  people  were  paying  for  those  bombs,  and  for  the  costs  of 
Guadalajara,  Danakil,  and  Ogaden.  Italy  had  ordained  two  meatless 
days  a  week.  Public  dancing  had  been  prohibited.  Life  was  too  seri- 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  631 

cms  for  dancing.  A  federal  regulation  required  all  clothing  and  tex- 
tiles to  contain  an  admixture  of  hemp  and  other  crude  domestic 
fibers.  Coal  imports  had  been  pared  and  homes  were  cold.  The  gov- 
ernment rationed  petrol.  As  a  result,  thirteen  out  of  every  fourteen 
automobiles  were  withdrawn  from  circulation.  But  what  did  all  that 
matter  when  Mussolini  was  founding  another  Roman  Empire? 

In  Rome,  I  interviewed  William  Phillips,  the  United  States  Am- 
bassador, whom  I  had  met  in  Berlin;  Fran§ois-Poncet,  the  French 
Ambassador  whom  I  had  also  first  met  in  Berlin;  Sir  Noel  Charles, 
the  British  Charg6  d' Affaires,  whom  I  had  known  in  Moscow;  sev- 
eral foreign  military  attaches,  and  a  few  Italians.  An  official  in  one 
embassy  allowed  me  to  read  all  the  confidential  reports  he  had  been 
sending  to  superiors  in  his  home  country  for  the  last  nine  months. 
They  were  a  mixture  of  interesting  gossip  and  invaluable  serious 
data.  I  also  saw  the  American  correspondents,  particularly  Herbert 
L.  Matthews  who  had  covered  the  Spanish  War  for  the  New  York 
Times.  Not  all  foreign  journalists  working  in  the  capital  of  a  dicta- 
torship are  brave;  Matthews  possessed  moral  courage,  just  as  at  the 
front  in  Spain  he  had  displayed  great  physical  courage. 

As  often  as  I  could  tear  myself  away  from  viewing  the  sites  of 
ancient  Rome  and  trying  to  solve  the  puzzle  .of  modern  Rome,  I  sat 
in  shirtsleeves  on  my  sun  roof  reading  the  manuscript  of  Matthews' 
book  on  the  Spanish  War.  It  is  a  noble  book  by  a  noble  person  about 
a  noble  people.  I  could  raise  my  eyes  and  without  moving  see  the 
Palazzo  Venezia  and  the  Vatican.  Their  occupants  intervened  against 
Spain  and  against  Europe.  From  my  hotel  roof  I  gazed  long  at  Mus- 
solini's and  Pacelli's  brown  walls,  and  my  mind  went  back  to  the 
tragic  streets  of  barricaded  Madrid,  to  the  bloody  morgue  of  Barce- 
lona, to  the  battlefields  of  Castile,  Aragon,  and  the  Ebro,  and  to 
the  decency  and  the  cemeteries  of  Republican  Spain.  I  saw  Spanish 
faces,  the  faces  of  women  and  children  livid  with  fear,  waiting  for 
death's  missiles  as  Mussolini's  bombers  hover  above  them.  I  saw  the 
Loyalist  leaders  striving  against  discouraging  odds  to  serve  their  coun- 
try. They  were  now  outcasts  in  a  world  that  courted  "neutral"  Mus- 
solini. What  a  world!  Mussolini  would  soon  stab  it  in  the  back. 

The  British  and  French  were  granting  credits  to  Mussolini.  They 
had  opened  a  breach  in  their  Mediterranean  blockade  for  his  benefit. 
They  should  have  crushed  him  immediately  the  war  broke  out.  They 
should  have  known  him  as  Hitler's  bloody  blood-brother.  But  Lord 
Halifax,  the  British  Foreign  Secretary,  wrote  an  introduction  to  a 


-J32      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

war  book  by  Lord  Lloyd,  called  The  British  Case,  which  praised 
Mussolini  and  his  work.  And  Anatole  de  Monzie,  a  member  of  the 
French  government,  "promised"  the  Cabinet  in  Paris  that  Italy 
would  remain  neutral.  General  Gamelin,  chief  of  the  French  Gen- 
eral Staff,  urged  the  government  to  allow  him  to  march  into  Italy 
in  September,  1939,  while  Germany  was  busy  seizing  Poland.  He  said 
that  France  should  either  subdue  Italy,  or  demand  firm  guarantee 
from  Mussolini  in  the  shape,  perhaps,  of  control  of  the  Italian  fleet, 
so  that  Italy  would  not  go  to  war  later  when  it  suited  her  purposes. 

Gamelin  reportedly  declared,  "I  can  smash  Italy  with  ten  divi- 
sions. If  Italy  remains  neutral  we  will  have  to  watch  her  with  fifteen 
divisions.  If  she  comes  in  on  our  side  we  will  have  to  help  her  with 
twenty  divisions."  But  de  Monzie  advocated  the  continued  court- 
ship of  Mussolini.  Enough  appeasement  remained  in  Paris  to  enable 
de  Monzie  to  win  his  point  against  Gamelin.  Fools,  in  the  British 
Foreign  Office,  the  Quai  D'Orsay,  and  the  U.  S.  State  Department 
had  always  believed  they  could  break  the  Axis.  The  only  way  to 
break  the  Axis  was  to  break  Mussolini.  It  would  not  have  been  diffi- 
cult. Italy  is  poor.  The  Fascist  regime  is  weak.  I  was  impressed  by 
the  unanimity  on  this  subject.  One  outstanding  diplomat  in  Rome 
told  me  that  the  regime  was  "shaky."  Another,  speaking  English, 
called  it  "wobbly."  A  third  said,  "Do  you  think  the  regime  is  in 
danger?"  He  was  not  asking  me.  His  question  was  his  way  of  telling 
me.  Mussolini,  however,  was  receiving  help  from  the  Allies  as  well 
as  from  Hitler. 

"Mussolini,"  one  correspondent  laughed,  "will  gallantly  rush  to 
the  aid  of  the  victor."  When  he  knew  which  side  was  winning  he 
would  join  it.  On  June  10,  1940,  he  thought  he  knew,  for  France 
had  collapsed  and  was  flat  on  her  back.  He  had  to  lift  her  up  a  bit 
so  as  to  insert  the  stiletto  in  the  back.  But  what  a  blunder!  He  jumped 
too  soon.  He  miscalculated.  He  had  wanted  to  be  in  on  the  kill.  He 
knew  his  Hitler.  The  Nazis  would  not  allow  even  a  friendly  "neu- 
tral" to  share  in  the  spoils  of  victory.  Unfortunately  for  Mussolini, 
the  kill  was  not  yet. 

One  of  the  reports  sent  by  my  diplomatic  friend  to  his  govern- 
ment stated  that  in  August,  1939,  Marshal  Badoglio,  supreme  com- 
mander of  the  Italian  armed  forces,  informed  Mussolini  that  the 
army  would  not  put  its  heart  into  war  on  the  side  of  Germany.  The 
people  did  not  want  any  more  war  on  anybody's  side,  and  Hitler 
is  the  most  hated  man  in  Italy*  The  daily  organ  of  the  Vatican,  the 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  633 

Osservatore  Romano  boosted  its  circulation  from  40,000  before  the 
war  to  130,000  when  I  was  in  Rome  simply  because  it  printed  news 
favorable  to  England  and  France.  Even  high  Fascist  circles  doubted 
the  wisdom  of  aligning  Italy  with  Germany.  Count  Ciano,  Foreign 
Minister  and  Mussolini's  son-in-law,  was  said  to  be  anti-Hitler.  In 
May,  1939,  Ciano  went  to  see  Hitler.  They  took  lunch  together. 
Ciano  told  Hitler  that  a  European  war  would  be  protracted  and  that 
Italy  could  not  afford  to  join  it.  "Du  bist  em  Esel,"  Hider  said  to 
Ciano.  "You  are  a  jackass." 

Spoiled,  handsome  Ciano  didn't  like  that.  What  Ciano  disliked 
especially  was  that  instead  of  being  allowed  to  relax  and  luxuriate 
after  lunch,  Hitler  walked  him  over  hill  and  dale  for  two  hours, 
lecturing  and  berating  him  all  the  while.  Ciano  had  other  ways  of 
expending  his  energy,  but  Hider  didn't.  So  deflated  did  Ciano  feel 
after  this  visit  with  Hitler  that  on  his  return  to  Rome  he  did  not 
keep  several  appointments  with  top-rank  diplomats  made  before  his 
journey  to  Germany  but  went  to  the  seashore  and  lay  around  on 
the  beach— with  four  blondes,  according  to  diplomatic  report— until 
his  ego  was  restored. 

It  was  known,  too,  that  the  King  and  many  in  his  entourage  were 
anti-German.  While  I  was  in  Rome,  Mussolini  appeared  theatrically 
on  the  balcony  of  the  Palazzo  Venetia  and  delivered  a  speech  of 
exactly  fifty-eight  words,  "Fascism,"  he  cried,  "asks  only  one  privi- 
lege for  itself:  to  construct  and  to  act  in  all  circumstances  with  the 
people  and  for  the  people."  Abraham  Lincoln's  most  essential  "by 
the  people"  was  omitted. 

What  did  Mussolini  intend  to  say?  "To  construct"  means  not 
to  go  to  war.  "With  the  people"  means  not  to  offend  their  desire 
for  peace.  Mussolini  bowed  to  what  he  knew  was  the  will  of  the 
country.  But  the  necessity  of  doing  so  irritated  him.  He  hoped,  some 
day,  to  be  able  to  enter  the  conflict. 

The  terror,  accordingly,  was  intensified.  When  I  walked  into  the 
big  office  of  M.  Frangois-Poncet,  the  French  Ambassador,  in  the 
glorious  villa  built  by  Michelangelo,  he  first  pulled  his  telephone 
plug  out  and  then  came  to  meet  me.  The  telephone,  even  with  the 
receiver  on  the  hook,  might  register  our  conversation  for  the  Italian 
secret  police.  But  this  form  of  espionage  was  mild  compared  with 
what  Italian  citizens  had  to  fear.  In  literally  all  restaurants  and  cafes 
I  saw  a  placard  distributed  by  the  Fascist  party  which  read,  "Here 
one  does  not  make  predictions  or  discuss  high  policy  and  high  strat- 


634      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

egy."  In  other  words:  "Shut  up."  In  the  provinces,  the  notices  were 
more  blunt,  "For  habitual  propagators  of  fantastic  reports  who  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously  alarm  the  country,  hard  days  are  in  store. 
The  Squadrismo  [Strong  Arm  Squad]  of  [here  the  name  of  the 
town  was  given]  is  very  much  alive  and  some  individuals  already 
have  reason  to  know  how  very  alive  it  is."  Coffee  and  petrol  were 
scarce  in  Italy  but  castor  oil  flowed  freely.  It  sometimes  killed  peo- 
ple to  whom  it  was  forcibly  administered  by  the  Squadristi. 

Mussolini  himself  spoke  in  Bologna  on  September  23  and  prom- 
ised to  "clean  up  ...  the  riffraff."  At  Genoa  he  stated  that  apathy 
would  not  be  tolerated.  His  newspaper,  the  Popolo  (Thalia  inveighed 
against  "bellyachers,  rumor-mongers,  toy  strategists,  and  members 
of  a  certain  lounge-lizard  snobbery." 

People  were  "bellyaching"  about  the  declining  standard  of  living, 
rising  inconveniences,  and  shorter  macaroni.  They  were  protesting 
against  the  regime's  pro-Germanism  because  they  feared  it  would 
in  the  end  lead  them  into  war.  Italians  like  to  talk  and  express  them- 
selves. The  heightened  restraint  irked  them. 

But  in  the  absence  of  a  government  "of  the  people,"  the  people 
could  do  nothing;  the  secret  police  and  the  dictator  overruled  popu- 
lar wishes,  the  generals'  wishes,  and  royalty's  wishes. 

Italy  did  not  want  the  war.  It  did  not  want  Hitler.  But  Mussolini 
wanted  the  war  because  he  was  Mussolini  and  because  he  was  Hitler's 
puppet.  So  Italy  went  to  war,  and  paid. 

November  2,  1939.  I  was  leaving  Europe-at-war.  I  was  standing 
on  the  top  deck  of  the  majestic  Rex  still  loading  in  the  bay  of  Naples. 
As  I  looked  now  in  the  direction  of  Vesuvius,  now  towards  nine 
"unknown"  submarines  that  rocked  near  by,  someone  tapped  on  my 
shoulder,  and  there  stood  Kostya  Oumansky  returning  from  Moscow 
to  the  Soviet  Embassy  in  Washington. 

"I  hear,"  he  began,  "that  you  have  been  attacking  my  country." 

"I  have  always  said  what  I  think  about  your  country,"  I  an- 
nounced. "When  I  liked  it  I  praised  it.  Now  I  condemn  it." 

"So  Prince  Radziwill  is  better  than  collective  farms/'  he  sneered. 
(Prince  Radziwill  is  one  of  the  rich  land-owning  nobles  of  Poland.) 

"Listen,"  I  said,  "I  have  just  come  from  Rome.  The  Fascists  tell 
me  that  they  are  putting  the  Abyssinians  into  trousers  and  building 
schools  and  roads  for  them.  The  conqueror  and  imperialist  always 
affirms  that  he  is  out  to  help  the  conquered." 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  635 

"Hm,  hm,"  muttered  Oumansky.  It  was  clear  to  him  where  I 
stood.  "Will  you  be  going  to  the  Soviet  Union  soon,"  he  inquired 
sweetly. 

"Just  now  I  am  going  home." 

"Well,"  he  smiled,  "anytime  you  want  to  go  you  can  depend  on 
me  to  veto  the  trip." 

"Thanks,"  I  exclaimed  (Pause.)  "Tell  me,  how's  Moscow?"  I 
demanded. 

"Fine." 

"Did  you  see  Litvinov?"  I  inquired. 

"No." 

"Why?  I  thought  he  was  your  old  patron  and  friend." 

"Yes,"  Oumansky  explained,  "but  you  know  Moscow.  I  was  very 
busy  and  he  is  busy  and  he  lives  out  of  town." 

"What's  Litvinov  doing?"  I  asked. 

"He's  doing  literary  work." 

"What's  Troyanovsky  doing?"  (Troyanovsky  was  Oumansky's 
predecessor  in  Washington.) 

"He's  doing  literary  work,"  Oumansky  replied. 

"What's  Boris  Stein  doing?"  (Stein  was  Soviet  Ambassador  in 
Rome  and  a  mutual  friend  of  ours.) 

"He's  doing  literary  work." 

I  roared  hilariously. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  Oumansky  asked  me  after  a  long  pause. 

"I'm  doing  literary  work,"  I  said.  "But  I'm  not  an  ex-commissar 
nor  an  ex-ambassador." 

Oumansky  spoke  of  the  beautiful  scenery.  On  that,  at  last,  we 
could  agree.  Dust  was  blowing  into  our  eyes. 

"Well,"  Oumansky  declared,  "I  suppose  I  won't  be  seeing  much 
of  you  after  we  land  in  New  York." 

"Oumansky,"  I  said,  "you  are  always  the  diplomat.  You  mean 
that  we  can  meet  on  the  boat." 

He  nodded  assent  and  went  below.  But  I  felt  there  was  no  use 
talking  to  him. 

Americans  have  better  and  more  information  about  the  war  than 
the  nations  of  Europe.  That  is  the  achievement  of  the  radio  and 
the  newspapers.  Americans  have  more  news  about  England  than  most 
Englishmen  and  certainly  learn  more  about  events  in  Germany  than 
most  Germans.  Only  Americans  hear  regular  broadcasts  from  bel- 


636      WORLD  CRISIS  AND  WORLD  WAR,  1930  TO  1940 

ligerent  capitals.  And  only  American  correspondents  have  the  cour- 
age and  initiative  to  fly,  like  the  lamented  Ralph  Barnes,  in  loaded 
bombers,  or  like  him  and  others,  sail  in  warships  and  submarines. 

The  radio  gives  headlines,  features,  and  commentary.  It  could 
thus  be  a  substitute,  as  far  as  foreign  news  goes,  for  the  tabloid,  for 
some  columns,  and  for  the  editorials  of  weekly  magazines.  It  has  not 
yet,  however,  been  able  to  take  the  place  of  the  big  morning  news- 
paper. The  New  York  Times  and  New  York  Herald  Tribune  are 
reporting  the  war  more  fully,  with  less  bias  and  with  richer  informa- 
tion than  any  other  newspapers  in  the  world.  Late  radio  news  bulle- 
tins and  even  the  scanty  telegrams  in  the  afternoon  press  sometimes 
moderate  the  "kick"  I  get  from  the  morning  papers.  I  have  always 
seen  international  affairs  as  a  vast  drama.  The  newspapers  raise  the 
curtain  and  carry  the  story  forward  another  day.  They  are  the  next 
installment  of  the  thriller.  The  newspaper  is  a  magic  carpet  which 
takes  me  to  five  countries  on  the  first  page,  and  to  more  and  more 
countries  as  I  turn  the  pages.  I  read  a  paper  straight  through  and 
never  read  the  continuation  of  page  one  on  page  six  until  I  reach 
page  six. 

No  country  reads  and  listens  as  much  as  America.  The  Czecho- 
slovak crisis,  the  suffering  of  Spain,  and  the  horror  of  China  in- 
volved America  spiritually  as  they  did  few  overseas  nations.  What- 
ever we  are  mentally,  Americans  are  temperamentally  members  of 
the  big  fraternity  of  mankind.  The  radio  and  newspapers  do  not 
create  this  feeling.  They  cater  to  it. 

Ten  countries  lost  their  independence  in  the  first  twelve  months 
of  the  war:  Poland,  Denmark,  Norway,  Luxembourg,  Holland,  Bel- 
gium, France,  Latvia,  Lithuania,  and  Esthonia.  Three  others— Fin- 
land, Bulgaria,  and  Rumania  lost  large  stretches  of  territory.  As  each 
of  these  nations  was  invaded  by  aggressors,  always  on  excuses  that 
sounded  as  good  as  propaganda  ministers  could  make  them,  Amer- 
icans lent  sympathy  and  sent  aid.  In  the  second  year  of  the  war, 
more  countries  joined  the  lengthening  list  of  areas  subjected  to  the 
"new  order"  or  the  "revolution."  America's  desire  to  aid  victims 
of  assault  is  fine  sentiment,  good  sportsmanship,  and  excellent  policy. 
The  greater  the  obstacles  placed  in  the  path  of  the  aggressors  the 
less  likely  they  are  to  roam  further  afield.  This  is  now  the  axiomatic 
rule  of  many  columnists,  commentators,  lecturers,  authors,  ministers, 
politicians,  and  statesmen,  who,  if  they  had  advocated  it  a  few  years 
earlier,  might  have  helped  avert  the  black  catastrophe. 


EUROPE  AT  WAR  637 

When  France  fell  some  Americans  regarded  the  event  as  a  criti- 
cism of  democracy.  But  it  was  merely  a  condemnation  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  French  democracy  functioned.  The  difference  between 
France  under  Hitler's  boot  and  France  fighting  off  the  Nazis 
amounted  to  five  thousand  planes  and  ten  thousand  tanks  which 
France  could  have  bought  or  made.  Everything  depends  on  who 
runs  a  democracy,  on  whether  it  is  run  by  the  people  or  by  leaders 
who  can  be  distinguished  only  with  difficulty  from  the  national 
enemy. 

Politics  often  is  shaped  by  mistakes,  and  these  can  be  based  on  too 
little  faith.  One-  of  the  reasons  why  France  signed  the  armistice  with 
Germany  was  military  defeat.  The  other  was  the  belief  that  England 
too  would  soon  be  defeated.  In  the  same  expectation  Italy  entered 
the  war  on  June  10,  1940.  England's  firmness  has  made  aU  the  dif- 
ference to  conquered  France,  to  Italy,  to  Germany,  to  Russia,  and 
to  the  United  States  and  Japan. 

England  stood  firm  because  it  was  protected  by  the  English  Chan- 
nel and  had  more  time  to  gear  its  superior  industry  to  war  needs. 
But  it  also  had  greater  self-confidence.  The  fate  of  France,  more- 
over, served  as  a  frightening  example  to  England.  Great  Britain 
could  do  something  about  it  because  the  Conservatives  had  had  the 
the  sense  to  give  the  people,  through  Labor  and  Liberals,  a  larger 
share  in  the  conduct  of  the  war  and  of  the  nation's  affairs.  Britain's 
future  depends  on  whether  the  ordinary  citizen,  the  man-in-the- 
street,  the  woman-in-the-shelter,  the  soldier-in-the-barracks,  thinks 
that  it  is  his  war  and  that  he  will  make  the  peace. 

A  soldier's  ideas  on  the  eve  of  battle  are  simple  and  searching.  If 
he  decides  that  the  cause  and  the  leaders  are  not  his  own  he  will  not 
fight  with  enthusiasm.  He  may  even  run  away  at  the  first  chance  or 
throw  away  his  rifle.  That  is  why  good  leadership  and -a  clear  vision 
of  the  future  are  as  indispensable  to  military  success  as  guns  and 
planes.  This  is  particularly  true  with  women  at  the  front  line  in 
millions.  They  want  to  know  what  it  is  all  about  and  what  will 
come  of  it.  They  remember,  or  were  told  of,  the  first  World  War. 
Two  major  wars  in  a  generation!  Will  there  be  a  third? 


Conclusion 


To  Be  .  .  . 

PERHAPS  the  most  interesting  document  that  has  come  out 
of  the  blood  and  suffering  of  the  second  World  War  is  the 
proclamation  made  by  Prime  Minister  Winston  Churchill  on 
June  1 6,  1940.  He  said,  "The  two  governments  declare  that  France 
and  Great  Britain  shall  no  longer  be  two,  but  one  Franco-British 
Union.  .  .  .  Every  citizen  of  France  will  enjoy  immediately  citizen- 
ship of  Great  Britain;  every  British  subject  will  become  a  citizen  of 
France."  True,  this  offer  was  made  in  a  highly  desperate  moment; 
it  came  too  late  to  ward  off  France's  premature  capitulation  to  Hit- 
ler. But  after  the  War,  all  of  Europe  will  be  in  a  no  less  desperate 
plight.  Europe  will  be  faced  with  the  relentless  alternative  of  union 
or  chaos. 

The  War  has  shown  that  the  nations  of  the  European  Continent, 
with  all  their  paraphernalia  of  sovereignty,  were  dependent  upon  Hit- 
ler's will  and  deeds,  while  Great  Britain,  with  all  its  empire  and  riches, 
is  dependent  on  the  United  States.  The  farce  of  independence  in 
isolation  has  thus  been  completely  exposed.  Millions  of  Americans, 
moreover,  are  convinced  that  the  prosperity  and  security  of  the 
United  States  depend  to  some  extent  on  conditions  beyond  its  fron- 
tiers. The  realization  of  interdependence  is  more  widespread  than 
ever.  This  is  the  soil  in  which  the  new  war  aim,  or  peace  aim,  of 
internationalism  has  sprouted.  Leslie  Hore-Belisha  put  it  aptly  on 
October  21,  1939,  when  he  was  British  War  Minister.  "This  is  not 
a  war  about  a  map,"  he  said.  The  purpose  of  this  War  is  not  a  victory 
which  will  enable  one  side  to  write  a  better  or  worse  Versailles.  It  is 
a  war  for  the  rebuilding  of  the  life  of  Europe,  and  then  of  the  entire 
world,  on  a  new  foundation.  Even  Neville  Chamberlain,  before  his 
death,  spoke  of  the  necessity  of  "a  new  international  order." 

The  failure  of  nationalism  to  protect  nations  from  assault  has  been 
amply  demonstrated  by  events  since  1938.  As  the  planes  and  tanks 
raced  across  boundaries,  nations  realized  how  silly  those  boundaries 
had  been  in  peacetime.  The  "neutrality"  of  small  countries  and  the 
"safety"  of  large  ones  proved  a  costly  myth.  In  the  heat  of  war 
Europe  has  quickly  grown  ripe  for  federation. 

641 


642  CONCLUSION 

Because  war  is  the  lowest  activity  of  the  human  race  it  often  pro- 
vokes the  loftiest  dreams.  Attractive  slogans  and  Utopias  are  therefore 
suspect.  If  the  idea  of  federal  union  were  based  on  the  hope  that 
the  insane  asylum  of  Europe  would  change  into  a  love  nest  I  would 
despair  of  its  prospects.  If  its  realization  depended  on  the  upsurge 
of  practical  idealism  from  blood-soaked  ruins  it  would  enjoy  scant 
chance  of  success.  There  is  little  love  or  idealism  in  politics.  The 
United  States  of  Europe  has  become  a  realistic  goal  because  the 
national  selfishness  of  the  past  has  so  obviously  defeated  itself. 

A  good  way  to  kill  myself  would  be  to  take  care  only  of  myself.  I 
must,  to  keep  alive  and  well,  also  take  care  of  the  traffic  cop,  of  the 
man  with  a  contagious  disease  in  Buffalo,  of  the  criminal  with  a  sub- 
machine gun  in  Memphis,  of  the  unemployed  in  Texas,  and  of  the 
soldier  in  California.  In  any  country  this  is  the  universally  accepted 
rule  of  human  society.  But  not  between  countries.  The  nations 
of  the  world  concentrated  on  their  own  narrow  interests.  This 
egotistical  nationalism  caused  the  death  of  many  nations.  The  only 
safety  for  nations  is  in  internationalism. 

People  do  learn  from  experience.  Mistakes  which  cost  millions  of 
homes  and  lives  have  opened  many  European  eyes.  The  second 
World  War  is  unlike  the  first  if  only  because  it  is  the  second.  If 
a  person  contracted  pneumonia,  recovered,  and  six  weeks  later  got 
pneumonia  again,  the  second  attack  would  be  different  because  the 
person  would  be  different.  Europe  after  the  second  World  War  will 
be  weaker  than  in  1919  but  also  wiser.  Bitter  experience  is  teaching 
nations  that  only  in  union  is  there  survival  and  peace. 

In  this  era  of  shortened  distance  and  interlaced  economies,  Europe 
with  its  multitude  of  exclusively  nationalistic  and  selfishly  independ- 
ent nations  is  as  much  an  anachronism  as  the  sovereign  counties  and 
duchies  of  the  Middle  Ages  would  have  been  in  the  succeeding 
era  of  industrialism.  The  crazy-quilt'  map  of  pre-1939  Europe  was 
antiquated  and  destructive.  The  territory  of  the  United  States,  cut 
up  into  forty-eight  nations  obeying  no  federal  laws  and  boxed  off 
by  forty-eight  tariff  walls,  would  provide  a  parallel  to  the  disunity 
of  the  old  Europe. 

Economic  nationalism  is  now  recognized  as  no  less  harmful  than 
political  nationalism.  The  extreme  form  of  economic  nationalism  is 
Fascism.  But  Hitler  did  not  want  raw  materials.  He  wanted  war  ma- 
terials. For  purposes  of  peace  it  is  not  necessary  for  each  country  to 
own  the  supplies  it  consumes.  No  equitable  adjustment  of  the  purely 


TO  BE  ...  643 

fortuitous  distribution  of  the  world's  natural  wealth  can  be  achieved 
by  the  shifting  of  frontiers.  Such  an  adjustment  would  require  every 
nation  to  obtain  possession  of  its  proportionate  share  of  die  world's 
oil,  timber,  nickel,  coffee,  and  all  other  forms  of  wealth.  Germany, 
for  instance,  would  occupy  a  strip  of  the  Texas  oil  field,  a  section 
of  Canada's  nickel  mines,  an  area  of  Brazil's  coffee  lands,  and  so 
forth.  This  is  manifestly  absurd.  But  it  is  the  logical  corollary  of  the 
"have  and  have-not"  fable.  The  alternative  to  such  madness  is  freely 
flowing  international  trade;  nations  buy  what  they  do  not  own.  Fas- 
cism has  confronted  mankind  with  this  choice:  either  the  strong  na- 
tions seize  the  materials  they  lack  or  all  nations  engage  in  a  normal 
exchange  of  products.  In  centuries  past,  empires  have  robbed  aplenty, 
and  Britain  is  no  exception.  But  the  cure  is  not  for  the  Germans 
to  rob  from  the  British  what  the  British  have  robbed  from  others. 
The  cure  is  to  stop  all  robbery,  and  to  grant  to  all  who  need  materials 
the  free  and  equal  right  to  purchase  these  materials.  Under  such  con- 
ditions parts  of  national  empires  would  soon  become  parts  of  an  in- 
ternational federation.  The  thesis  that  the  Germans  or  Italians  ar- 
rived late,  as  nations,  on  the  historic  scene  and  are  now  therefore 
entitled  to  their  turn  at  imperial  banditry  must  mean  interminable 
wars,  for  not  only  will  the  acts  of  brigandage  be  resisted;  other  na- 
tions will  want  their  turn  after  Germany  and  Italy. 

The  economic  and  political  disunity  of  Europe  is  at  an  end.  We 
have  reached  a  parting  of  the  ways  in  world  history.  The  world 
will  never  be  the  same  whoever  wins  the  second  JKorld  Wa&  Europe 
will  either  be  united  un3er  the  Keel  anH  wfilp  of  Hitler  or  will  unite 
itself  into  a  voluntary  federation  wherein  each  country,  while  re- 
taining its  identity,  will  surrender  sufficient  sovereignty  to  keep  it 
from  running  amuck. 

The  "League  of  Nations  was  merely  a  rostrum.  It  was  not  an  or- 
ganization. Diplomats,  often  tired  and  gray,  came  to  Geneva  at  ir- 
regular intervals  to  breathe  the  mountain  air,  to  make  speeches,  and 
to  intrigue.  League  members  did  occasionally  combine  to  collect 
statistics  or  study  labor  problems  or  consult  on  opium  sales,  but  they 
never  attacked  the  question  of  war  prevention.  The  League  was  a 
failure  not,  as  so  many  Europeans  have  said,  because  the  United 
States  refused  to  join,  although  that  was  a  factor  in  its  weakness; 
it  failed  because  its  member  states  did  not  implement  the  Covenant 
when  they  had  the  power  to  do  so.  The  statutes  of  the  League  pro- 
vided for  sanctions  against  an  aggressor.  Those  sanctions  were  ap- 


644  CONCLUSION 

plied  once  in  1935  when  Italy  invaded  Abyssinia.  But  they  were  ap- 
plied so  half-heartedly  by  England  and  France  that  they  failed  of 
their  purpose  and  discredited  sanctions  as  a  means  of  coercing  an  ag- 
gressor. From  then  the  descent  to  war  was  steep. 

The  League  was  not  a  union  or  a  unit.  In  fact,  it  emphasized  the 
world's  lack  of  unity.  It  was  a  playground  full  of  seesaws,  balance- 
of -power  seesaws.  The  statesmen  were  playing  the  old,  old  game  that 
had  caused  so  much  trouble. 

When  I  first  went  to  Europe  as  a  journalist,  in  1921,  I  expected 
to  find  all  statesmen  and  many  private  persons  pondering  such  ques- 
tions as  these: 

"How  did  the  world  get  itself  in  the  recent  terrible  war?" 

"How  can  we  avoid  another  massacre  of  the  same  kind?" 

I  was  disappointed.  A  few  individuals  and  some  small  groups  in 
western  countries  preached  pacifism,  international  friendship,  social- 
ism, or  Communism  as  a  means  of  averting  war.  But  the  politicians 
were  more  concerned  with  remaining  in  office,  retaining  their  ter- 
ritorial gains  or  wiping  out  their  territorial  losses,  stealing  foreign 
markets,  and  collecting  debts  from  other  countries  while  not  paying 
their  own. 

Once  more,  the  statesmen  were  slowly  stoking  the  furnaces  of 
war.  Once  more,  the  people  let  them  do  it. 

Europe  after  1918  was  not  very  different  from  the  Europe  of  be- 
fore 1914.  A  few  boundaries  had  been  pushed  around  and  a  few 
crowned  heads  were  gone.  In  the  place  of  the  Czar  was  Lenin,  In 
the  place  of  the  Kaiser  was  a  democratic  Republic.  But  the  rivalry 
and  friction  between  nations  continued  unabated.  Within  each  na- 
tion, economic  maladjustment,  racial  animosities,  and  social  injustices 
were  heaping  up  the  same  old  poisons.  Such  a  situation  had  produced 
the  war  of  1914.  There  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  would  not 
produce  another  war.  It  did. 

Unless  Europe  and  other  continents  are  reorganized  after  the  pres- 
ent war  and  unless  nations  establish  more  decent  and  more  civilized 
conditions  at  home  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  a  third  World 
War  will  not  follow  the  second. 

Fascism  could  not  have  overrun  and  pulverized  a  healthy  Europe. 
Termites  at  the  foundations  made  it  easier  for  Hitler's  legions  to  crash 
the  walk.  No  oak  or  swamp  reed  grows  without  seed  and  soil.  Hitler, 
brute,  beast,  and  maniac,  is  nevertheless  the  child  of  our  world.  Stalin, 
Mussolini,  Franco,  and  the  other  "Fuehrers"  are  the  offspring  of  our 


TO  BE  ...  645 

civilization.  TThey^  resemble  some  specimens  that  exist  much  nearer 
home, 

The  Nazis  have  not  solved  a  single  German  economic  problem. 
Germany,  to  be  sure,  has  no  unemployment.  But  neither  has  a  prison. 
And  if  gallows,  executioner's  axes,  and  enough  cemeteries  are  attached 
to  the  prison  it  will  not  suffer  from  overpopulation.  Hitler  has  nothing 
to  offer  the  conquered  countries  of  his  Todesraum  except  murder,  pil- 
lage, slavery,  fear,  and  hunger.  Hitler  is  not  a  positive  quantity.  He  is 
a  zero.  But  that  zero  is  the  mark  of  our  society.  Civilization,  as  we 
know  it,  has  flunked  the  course. 

Fascism  is  a  malevolent  agent  of  destruction.  It  has  given  no  proof 
that  it  can  build  for  human  needs.  Yet  it  has  won  many  victories.  Its 
easy  successes  show  that  there  was  something  "rotten  in  Denmark." 

There  was  something  rotten  in  the  relations  between  nations,  and 
there  was  something  rotten within  each  nation. 

Libraries  and  archives  are  full  of  schemes  for  the  unification  of 
Europe  and  for  complete  or  partial  international  unions.  These  plans 
have  remained  on  paper  not  merely  because  it  required  the  second 
World  War  to  prove  the  final  bankruptcy  of  nationalistic  separatism; 
they  remained  on  paper  because  healthy  internationalism  is  impossible 
without  first  eliminating  the  decay  within  nations.  To  build  a  clean, 
solid  structure  you  must  have  good  building  materials. 

The  capitalist  system  is,  by  nature,  partially  internationalistic.  It 
tried  to  form  international  trusts  and  cartels.  But  the  rival  national 
interests  of  powerful  vested  groups  interfered  with  success.  Capitalists 
also  tried  to  earn  profits  by  saving  Germany  with  loans.  But  then  one 
of  the  major  accidents  of  capitalism,  the  great  depression  of  1929, 
intervened  to  stop  the  experiment. 

The  German  industrialists  and  middle  class,  unable  to  get  further 
relief  from  abroad,  sought  relief— and  found  death— in  Hitler.  The 
British  and  French  bourgeoisie,  unable  to  give  further  financial  injec- 
tions to  Germany,  and  to  Japan  and  Italy,  said  to  them  in  effect:  Seek 
salvation  and  new  markets  in  territorial  expansion;  we  will  acquiesce. 

This  was  the  kind  of  sordid  internationalism  that  had  existed  for 
decades  and  which  took  the  form  of  secret  treaties  between  govern- 
ments, partitioning  of  helpless  countries,  and  sharing  of  commercial 
spoils.  It  had  never  been  based  on  a  desire  for  war  prevention.  It  had 
never  been  based  on  a  universal  principle,  on  the  principle,  for  ex- 
ample, of  the  brotherhood  of  man.  That  would  have  had  to  begin  at 
home  where  many  men  still  resided  in  hovels,  were  chronically  un- 


646  CONCLUSION 

employed,  were  subjected  to  racial  discrimination  and  were  equal 
only  in  the  abstract. 

Governments  that  were  indifferent  to  the  cruel  sufferings  of  mil- 
lions of  their  own  flesh  and  blood  who  lived  around  the  corner  from 
the  palaces,  fashionable  villas,  rich  clubs,  and  sumptuous  dining  halls, 
could  not  be  expected  to  think  of  the  degradation  of  distant  colonials 
or  to  worry  about  Hindus  and  Chinese. 

Social  prejudice  also  conduced  to  the  friendly  concern  of  British 
and  French  governments  for  Hitler,  Mussolini,  and  Franco  and  to  the 
uninformed  hatred  of  the  same  governments  for  Moscow.  In  these 
two  attitudes  lay  the  germ  of  the  second  World  War.  The  reaction- 
ary appeasers  of  London  and  Paris  showed  their  true  colors  during 
the  Spanish  conflict.  They  were  afraid  that  a  victory  for  the  militantly 
democratic  Popular-Front  anti-Fascists  of  Iberia  would  strengthen 
the  progressive,  liberal  forces  in  England  and  France.  Indeed,  men 
like  Neville  Chamberlain  and  Georges  Bonnet  were  often  irritated  by 
the  strident  tones  in  favor  of  the  defense  of  democracy  which  issued 
from  the  United  States.  In  being  pro-Fascist  and  anti-Soviet,  the  up- 
per classes  and  select  families  of  Great  Britain  and  France  were  first 
of  all  safeguarding  their  own  wealth  and  power  at  home.  The  fate  of 
Europe  would  have  been  different  if  its  destiny  had  been  controlled 
by  other  strata  of  the  population  of  the  democracies.) 

Pierre  Laval  was  a  statesman  and  leading  citizen  of  democratic 
France.  He  is  not  anti-Fascist,  to  say  the  least.  One  could  not  have 
expected  him  to  fear  Fascism  as  a  menace  to  French  democracy.  He 
did  not  care  much  about  French  democracy,  neither  about  its  soul 
nor  its  body.  Laval  was  not  alone.  Marshal  P6tain  felt  a  deep  bond  of . 
sympathy  with  Franco  during  the  Spanish  Civil  W?r.  Georges  Bon- 
net, French  Foreign  Minister,  was  a  second  and  more  subtle  Laval. 
Just  as  Prime  Minister  Churchill,  to  fight  the  Nazis,  naturally  formed 
an  alliance  with  Labor  and  the  Liberals  who  were  anti-Nazi,  so  Bon- 
net, Daladier,  de  Monzie,  Neville  Chamberlain,  and  Sir  John  Simon 
had  to  seek  the  support  of  the  most  reactionary  conservatives  in  order 
to  appease  the  Fascists.  If  there  had  not  been  enough  reactionaries  to 
keep  Chamberlain  and  Daladier  in  office,  England  and  France  would 
not  have  helped  Hitler,  Mussolini,  and  the  Japanase  to  drag  the  world 
into  war.  Foreign  politics  always  reflect  domestic  politics  and  domes- 
tic conditions. 

No  doubt,  men  forget  their  pasts  and  betray  their  old  friends.  But 
the  ex-miner  from  South  Wales  who  sits  on  the  left  side  of  the  British 


TO  BE  ... 

House  of  Commons  is  much  more  aware  of  the  needs  of  the  under- 
privileged than  the  son  of  rich  Lord  So-and-So  on  the  right.  The  aris- 
tocrats and  wealthy  scions  who  constituted  the  permanent  officialdoms, 
army  staffs,  and  diplomatic  missions  of  most  democracies  looked  upon 
the  domestic  and  foreign  scenes  alike  with  the  same  self-satisfied,  un- 
imaginative what-is-is-right  complacency.  They  could  spend  billions, 
when  the  need  arose,  for  war  and  warlike  preparations  but  with  few 
exceptions  they  pleaded  lack  of  funds,  shortage  of  materials,  and  legal 
difficulties  when  it  came  to  wiping  out  slums,  providing  adequate  and 
free  educational  facilities,  resettling  populations,  and  solving  unem- 
ployment and  other  social  problems.  Even  when  labor  parties  did  en- 
ter governments  they  could  do  little;  real  power  still  lay  in  the  hands 
of  the  economic  royalists  and  the  permanent  officials. 

Men  whose  family  fortunes  had  been  made  in  India  approached 
the  problem  of  Indian  freedom  and  all  similar  questions  from  an  alto- 
gether different  angle  than  that  of  the  simple  citizen  with  enlightened 
humanitarianism.  The  pedestrian  resents  the  speeding  taxi.  He  gets 
into  a  taxi  and  resents  the  slow-poke  pedestrian.  The  man-in-the-street 
saw  Germany  in  one  light.  The  business  magnate  who  sat  in  or  near 
the  Cabinet  thought  of  it  in  terms  of  commercial  rivalry  and  balance 
of  power.  This  shaped  foreign  policy;  International  affairs  are  not  a 
machine  moved  by  cosmic  rays.  They  are  made  and  moved  by  men, 
and  the  character  and  outlook  of  those  men,  their  material  interests 
and  social  antecedents  count  for  much.  They  do  not  count  for  every- 
thing, and  there  have  been  notable  examples  of  statesmen  who  sur- 
mount their  own  backgrounds.  But  more  often,  birth  and  business  ties 
produce  the  psychology  which  translates  itself  into  political  action. 
This  applies  in  particular  to  England  where  the  nobility  and  the  in- 
dustrialist and  banking  dynasties  permeate  government  personnel.  The 
domination  of  governments  by  certain  classes  of  the  population  is  not 
an  abstraction.  It  is  implemented  by  members  of  those  classes  who  at 
times  are  not  even  aware  of  their  social  function  and  think  they  are 
doing  the  best  possible  disinterested  job. 

The  weakness  and  topheaviness  of  such  governmental  systems  are 
exposed  in  times  of  great  crisis.  This,  I  believe,  is  the  reason  for  Presi- 
dent Roosevelt's  "Brain  Trust"  and  the  role  which  progressive  intel- 
lectuals played  in  the  New  Deal.  It  was  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the 
straitjacket  of  conservative  official  personnel.  The  encouragement 
given  by  the  New  Deal  to  trade  unions  is  a  further  effort  at  establish- 
ing a  social  balance. 


648  CONCLUSION 

The  most  significant  change  of  this  kind,  however,  was  that 
wrought  in  England  by  the  second  World  War.  When  France  went 
to  war,  Premier  Daladier  permitted  army  officers  with  sergeant- 
major  psychologies  and  pigmy  brains  wrapped  in  cobwebs  to  take 
over  civilian  posts.  But  Winston  Churchill,  political  genius,  summoned 
leftist  civilians  to  help  run  the  War.  Some  peers  went  to  prison  and 
some  trade  unionists  went  into  the  supreme  War  Cabinet. 

.  Churchill  said:  When  the  War  is  over  "advantages  and  privileges 
which  hitherto  have  been  enjoyed  only  by  the  few  shall  be  more 
widely  shared." 

Lieutenant  Colonel  Ralph  Charles  Bingham,  in  command  of  a  Brit- 
ish officers'  training  academy,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  London  Times, 
early  in  1941,  stating  that  the  graduates  of  the  expensive  fashionable 
schools  like  Eton  and  Harrow  made  the  best  officers  while  those  re- 
cruited from  the  working  class  were  not  much  good.  But  the  time 
for  such  talk  has  passed.  This  doctrine  of  the  "old  school  tie"  was 
denounced  in  the  press  and  Parliament,  and  Colonel  Bingham  was  dis- 
missed from  his  position. 

Ernest  Bevin,  veteran  British  trade  union  leader,  burly  working- 
man,  and  member  of  the  War  Cabinet,  said,  "If  a  workingman  is  good 
enough  to  operate  a  Spitfire  he  is  good  enough  to  help  run  the  gov- 


ernment." 


The  same  Bevin  addressed  a  bankers'  banquet  in  London.  He  was 
Minister  of  Labor,  The  bankers  complained  to  him  about  the  high 
cost  of  labor.  "High  cost!"  he  exclaimed.  "If  a  bomb  killed  every 
banker  in  this  room  tonight,  the  loss  to  England  would  be  nothing 
compared  to  the  loss  of  one  worker  who  knows  how  to  make  an  air- 
plane propeller."  This  is  probably  not  a  permanent  alteration  of  values 
but  it  is  a  new  thought  in  British  high  places. 

The  Archbishop  of  York,  second  churchman  of  England,  has  issued 
a  manifesto  on  post-war  reconstruction.  The  manifesto  expressed  the 
views  of  numerous  bishops  and  other  clergymen  who  signed  it*  "The 
rights  of  labor,"  it  read,  "must  be  recognized  as  in  principle  equal  to 
those  of  capital  in  control  of  industry.  .  .  .  The  ownership  of  great 
resources  of  our  community  by  private  individuals  is  a  stumbling 
block.  The  time  has  come,  therefore,  for  Christians  to  proclaim  the 
need  for  seeking  some  form  of  society  in  which  this  stumbling  block 
will  be  removed.  ...  To  a  large  extent,  production  is  carried  on  not 
to  supply  the  consumer  with  goods  but  to  bring  profits  to  the  pro- 
ducer. Christian  doctrine  must  insist  that  production  exists  for  con~ 


TO  BE  ...  649 

sumption.  .  .  ."  Finally,  these  staid  pillars  of  the  Church  of  England 
announced  their  first  peace  aim:  "Our  aim  must  be  the  unification  of 
Europe  as  a  co-operative  commonwealth."  Equal  rights  for  labor,  pro- 
duction for  use,  and  communal  ownership  of  natural  wealth— these 
used  to  be  called  Communism.  English  churchmen  now  regard  them 
as  common  sense  and  common  decency.  Without  some  changes  in 
England,  the  European  co-operative  federation  is  impossible  and 
without  that,  peace  is  impossible. 

Harold  Nicolson,  brilliant  writer,  son  of  a  famous  diplomat,  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament  who  supported  the  Chamberlain  government,  says, 
"We  must  convince  the  masses  in  our  own  country  that  we  are  deter- 
mined, at  any  cost  to  the  present  social  structure,  to  carry  through  a 
campaign  against  poverty,  and  to  give  to  each  individual  in  this  island 
a  secure  prospect  of  food,  habitation,  maintenance  and  opportunity. 
We  must  convince  people  abroad  that  we  are  prepared  to  give  them 
a  free  share  in  the  resources  of  our  empire.  I  do  not  believe  that  we 
shall  carry  this  conviction  by  making  speeches;  I  believe  that  a  defi- 
nite plan  should  be  formulated  and  published  within  the  new  months." 
One  Nicolson  clause  deserves  italicizing—"^^  any  cost  to  the  pres- 
ent social  structure"  The  question  is  whether  the  Nicolsons  are  nu- 
merous enough  and  patriotic  enough  to  force  their  class  to  abdicate 
its  prerogatives. 

The  masters  of  Britain  have  found  it  necessary,  in  order  to  survive, 
to  give  direct  representation  in  the  government  to  the  broad  masses 
of  the  people  who  wanted  to  fight  Hitler  and  without  whose  enthusi- 
astic support  the  fight  against  Hitler  cannot  be  conducted,  much  less 
won.  The  people  will  fight  Hitler,  however,  if  they  have  the  assur- 
ance that  the  future  will  bring  no  near-Hitlers  or  pro-Hitlers  into 
power  at  home.  The  British  people  are  in  this  World  War  for  world 
peace  and  they  ask  that  conditions  be  established  which  will  prevent 
war  fuel  from  accumulating  again. 

No  one  can  guarantee  that  the  rights,  posts,  and  concessions  given 
to  British  Labor  during  the  War  will  not  be  withdrawn  after  the  War. 
There  are  no  guarantees  in  politics. Politic*  is  a  dialecticjtruggle^aix4 
wjiathappens  depends  on  the  sttengSnofgg^ 
<^^n^!^^  control  their  destinies  in 

peacetime  if,  before  the  peace,  they  entrench  themselves  and  their  in- 
stitutions for  the  contest  which  will  ensue.  War  casualties,  the  gov- 
ernment's extraordinary  war  powers  to  seize  plants  and  estates  if  re- 


650  CONCLUSION 

quired,  and  war  taxes  are  likely  to  give  the  richer  classes  an  initial 
disadvantage  in  the  contest. 

All  the  leftward  shifts  of  political  power  which  have  taken  place 
in  England  would  of  course  be  lost  if  Hitler  won  the  War.  Any 
chance  of  further  social  advances  toward  popular  democracy  would 
die  if,  as  a  result  of  British  military  weakness,  the  Hoares  and  Simons— 
the  British  Lavals  and  Petains— returned  to  power  to  negotiate  "peace" 
with  the  Nazis.  It  is  comprehensible,  therefore,  that  American  reac- 
tionaries and  royalists  should  oppose  aid  to  Britain.  Butf  how  Ameri- 
can liberals,  democrats,  and  socialists  can  oppose  aid  to  Britain  is  to- 
tally incomprehensible.  England's  ability  to  resist  foreign  Fascism 
enhances  its  possibility  of  crushing  domestic  reaction.  This  will  have 
repercussions  everywhere. 

The  idea  of  a  new  practicable  internationalism  for  peace  and  of  a 
more  civilized  and  more  representative  democracy  in  England  would 
have  an  explosive  effect  on  the  European  Continent.  If  spread  far 
enough,  in  ground  prepared  by  war  weariness  and  suffering,  it  could 
do  the  work  that  bombs  cannot  do.  The  Continent  must  first  be  in- 
vaded by  a  new  program  for  the  future,  a  program  in  which  the  op- 
pressed would  believe  because  it  already  lived  in  Great  Britain.  No- 
body now  trusts  words. 

There  is  a  facile  thesis  that  after  the  War,  when  both  belligerents 
will  have  been  exhausted,  the  Russian  Bolsheviks  will  step  in  and  make 
themselves  masters  of  Europe.  It  is  difficult  to  dealwith  a  prospect 

hase^olelyj^  hap*  aTirl^M'nnaliralTnn^  ir  7s  HifflrrTTFTo  rpTTWTqrr 

argument  about  something  tESTKaTnoThs^ened  and  is  not  even  be- 
ginning to  happen.  I  can  only  say  that  since  1848,  when  Karl  Marx 
first  promised  that  the  specter  of  Communism  would  immediately 
descend  on  Europe,  Communists,  unable  to  bring  about  the  millenium 
by  direct  means,  have  expected  it  to  emerge  out  of  major  catastrophes. 
In  1918,  the  Bolsheviks  entertained  high  hopes  of  a  Soviet  Germany, 
and  leading  Russian  statesmen  were  even  ready  to  sacrifice  Russian 
interests  to  that  enchanting,  though  vague  dream.  Many  Communists 
contributed  to  the  rise  of  Hitler  in  the  expectation  that  Fascism  would 
be  the  father  of  Communism.  Meanwhile  Fascism  has  been  the  hang- 
man of  Communists.  If  Stalin  deliberately  provoked  the  second  World 
War  hoping  that  it  would  open  the  door  to  Soviet  expansion  and  for- 
eign revolutions,  it  was  not  merely  a  terrible  gamble;  it  was  history's 
greatest  crime.  For  millions  will  lose  their  lives  and  health  in  that  little 
game,  and  a  continent  will  be  ruined.  The  founders  of  Communism 


TO  BE  ...  651 

did  not  think  it  would  be  established  in  a  cemetery  or  that  it  would 
be  brought  about  by  a  conquering  army.  When  Napoleon  marched 
with  the  progressive  principle  of  the  French  Revolution  pinned  to 
his  banner  he  usually  won.  When  he  advanced  as  an  emperor  bent  on 
continental  domination  he  failed.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Bolsheviks 
will  have  the  prestige  or  the  necessary  ideals  or  even  the  power  to 
dominate  Europe  after  this  War.  Hitler  invented  the  bogey  of  Com- 
munism-Triumphant to  frighten  the  capitalists  in  Germany  and  out- 
side. The^ritish,  American,  .gfldJ&renpLappeasers  have  used  it  as  an 
argument  for  ^easement^Now  Communist  appeasers  are  using  it. 

Soviet  policy  since  August  23,  1939,  has  not  contributed  to  the 
Soviet  Union's  popularity.  Stalin  has  smashed  and  seized  small,  un- 
offending nations.  The  working  classes  and  intellectuals  and  most 
others  in  Europe  abhor  this  procedure  in  Hitler  and  they  abhor  it  in 
Stalin.  Many  workingmen  in  western  Europe  are  convinced,  indeed, 
that  the  Nazi-Soviet  pact  of  August  23,  1939,  precipitated  the  second 
World  War.  This  scarcely  augments  their  sympathy  for  Moscow. 

In  the  demise  of  many  free  peoples,  Stalin  has  been  the  accomplice 
of  Hitler.  He  therefore  shares  with  Hitler  the  hostility  of  those  peo- 
ples. In  other  instances,  Russia  has  had  to  look  on  impotently  while 
Hitler  extended  his  realm.  This  supine  acceptance  of  Nazi  conquests 
does  not  induce  respect  for  Soviet  strength.  It  creates  an  impression 
of  Soviet  weakness.  Norway,  Holland,  Czechoslovakia,  and  other 
crushed  nations  have  not  submitted  even  to  Hitler's  strength.  They 
have  protested,  resisted,  and  sabotaged  the  Nazi  occupation.  They 
are  not  likely  to  submit  to  Stalin's  weakness. 

Knowing  the  difficulties  the  Soviet  government  has  experienced  in 
organizing  its  own  territory,  I  cannot  see  it  organizing  a  continent, 
certainly  not  a  prostrate  continent.  Where  the  efficient  Germans  have 
failed  I  do  not  see  the  Russians  succeeding.  The  task  of  creating  an 
ordered,  functioning  European  economy  is  beyond  the  capacity  of 
Russia  to  achieve.  Russia  lacks  the  personnel  and  material.  Soviet  Rus- 
sia's economy  is  peculiarly  dependent  on  imports  of  machine  tools 
and  raw  materials.  The  Soviet  Union  is  suffering  almost  as  much  as  a 
belligerent  from  the  blockade  and  from  permanent  military  mobiliza- 
tion. The  ruin  of  Europe  would  enfeeble  Russia,  too. 

If  Germany  wins  the  War,  Germany  will  rule  Europe.  If  England 
wins  the  War,  Germany,  and  Russia,  will  not  rule  Europe.  If  neither 
side  wins  and  both  are  completely  exhausted,  it  is  much  more  likely 


652  CONCLUSION 

that  the  United  States,  and  not  Russia,  would  undertake  the  task  of 
European  reconstruction.  America  is  already  preparing  for  it. 

America,  and  of  course  England,  would  therefore  do  well  to  think 
imaginatively  and  without  prejudices  about  Europe's  future.  The 
martyred  masses  of  Europe  are  not  likely  to  display  any  eagerness  for 
a  Soviet  dictatorship  in  place  of  the  Nazi  dictatorship.  They  will  want 
to  be  free.  They  are  not  likely  to  be  enamored  of  the  hard  living,  cul- 
tural backwardness,  and  strife  which  Russian  domination  must  intro- 
duce. A  Soviet  Peter  the  Great  in  Holland,  this  time  not  as  apprentice 
but  as  master,  a  Bolshevik  dictating  to  French  art,  a  Stalin  staging 
purges,  a  Russian  planning  the  Continent's  industry— these  pictures 
will  stir  no  love  or  hope  of  peace  and  prosperity  in  Europe's  breasts. 
But  neither  will  Europeans  show  any  enthusiasm  if  the  only  prospect 
held  out  to  them  is  the  restoration  of  the  old  Europe.  That  Europe  is 
the  Europe  of  wars,  constant  political  turmoil,  and  economic  misery. 
Europeans  want  something  new  and  something  better.  If  England 
and  the  United  States  cannot  offer  it  they  will  look  elsewhere,  or  they 
will  collapse  into  chaos  and  despair.  Now  is  the  time  for  the  West  to 
give  intelligent  intellectual  leadership. 

The  United  States  of  America  could  guide  and  help  Europe.  But 
Europe  can  only  be  rebuilt  by  free  Europeans.  They  should  not  be 
humiliated  by  any  false  American  doctrines  of  the  superiority  of  one 
nation  and  the  incorrigibility  of  another.  They  should  not  be  antag- 
onized by  an  immature  yearning  for  domination.  America  must  under- 
stand the  spirit  and  requirements  of  free  Europeans  and  remember  the 
torment  they  have  undergone  these  last  two  decades.  Participation  in 
the  task  of  erecting  a  better  Europe  puts  an  obligation  on  Americans  to 
be  worthy  of  it.  There  are  powerful  anti-Fascist  and  anti-dictatorship 
forces  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe.  Some  of  their  finest  representatives 
have  sought  asylum  in  the  Western  Hemisphere.  Their  dreams,  their 
contacts,  their  hopes  must  play  a  part  in  all  constructive  thinking  about 
the  future. 

Freedom,  peace,  and  plenty— these  are  humanity's  striving.  The 
world  also  yearns  for  the  simple,  eternal,  and  personal  virtues  of  de- 
:ency,  honesty,  loyalty  to  friends,  goodness,  and  respect  for  human 
ife  which  are  scorned  in  dictatorships  but  which  do  not  shine  too 
Diightly  in  the  democracies. 

Capitalism  has  crushed  the  bodies  of  many  in  whom  it  created  the 
spirit  of  revolt  and  searching.  Dictatorships  crush  no  fewer  bodies,  but 
they  also  crush  the  capacity  to  protest  and  think.  The  first  desideratum 


TO  BE  ...  653 

in  a  new  post-War  world  is  to  eliminate  the  ubiquitous  terror  and  of- 
ficial oppression  that  weighs  heavily,  every  hour  of  the  night  and 
day,  on  all  citizens  of  totalitarian  countries.  That  alone,  however,  is 
not  enough. 

When  it  comes  to  making  the  world  more  civilized  and  insuring  the 
maximum  good  to  the  greatest  number  it  is  necessary,  above  all,  to 
guard  against  misunderstanding  the  role  of  governments.  Leftist,  radi- 
cal social  scientists,  in  search  of  a  system  devoid  of  the  evils  of  monop- 
oly private  capitalism,  have  usually  urged  the  creation  of  monopolistic 
states  which  may  be  worse.  They  try  to  save  their  boats  from  the  Scylla 
of  mighty  trusts,  utility  corporations,  banks,  landlords,  and  their  sub- 
servient political  tools  only  to  shatter  diem  on  the  Charybdis  of  mightier 
dictatorial  governments  which  enslave  the  individual  without  giving 
him  peace,  efficient  economic  management,  security,  or  adequate  ma- 
terial benefits.  In  a  democracy,  the  citizen  at  least  has  some  redress  of 
grievances  by  appeal  to  the  government  or  by  uniting  with  other  citi- 
zens in  the  partial  defense  of  his  rights.  But  in  a  dictatorship  the  indi- 
vidual who  objects  to  the  state  has  no  appeal  because  the  state  is  every- 
thing. } 

Both  Bolshevism  and  Fascism  have  groped  for  the  society  of  the 
future  and  failed.  In  Russia,  the  workers  took  power  and  property 
away  from  the  propertied  classes.  But  then  the  Soviet  government 
took  the  power  away  from  the  workers  and  made  them  powerless. 
Moscow  has  not  solved  the  problem  of  the  individual  in  the  modern 
state.  In  Germany,  the  industrialists  and  the  middle  classes  erected  a 
giant  Nazi  state  which  subjugated  the  industrialists  and  the  middle 
classes.  The  transfer  to  the  state  of  all  the  economic  jobs  of  private 
capitalists  and  of  the  power  that  these  jobs  give  them  creates  a  new 
and  evil  Frankenstein.  This  tyranny  by  a  bureaucracy  soon  becomes 
a  one-man  tyranny,  for  the  officials  in  a  dictatorship  are  not  allowed 
to  have  permanence  of  tenure,  or  independent  authority.  Soviet  Rus- 
sia is  not  ruled  by  a  bureaucracy,  as  Trotzky  charged.  It  is  ruled  by 
Stalin  through  his  intimidated  underlings. 

To  jump  from  the  monism  of  uncontrolled  capitalism  to  the 
monism  of  uncontrollable  state  ownership,  or  state  domination,  of  all 
property,  industry,  and  finance  is  no  solution.  In  fact,  it  is  dangerous. 
Even  in  countries  where  .there  is  a  stronger  tradition  of  democracy 
and  personal  freedom  than  in  Russia  and  Germany,  the  omnipotent 
state— omnipotent  because  it  owned  and  ran  everything— might  still 
become  a  menace  to  liberty.  I  fear  the  strong  state.  The  individual  is 


654  CONCLUSION 

at  its  mercy.  Where  a  state  is  the  employer  of  all  no  strikes  are  per- 
mitted. Where  the  state  owns  everything  how  can  private  individuals 
own  the  press?  If  the  government  owns  the  Press  how  can  one  criti- 
cize the  government?  In  the  dictatorships  there  is  no  criticism  of  the 
dictator  or  of  his  acts  or  of  the  system.  There  is  only  criticism  of  his 
subordinates  who  are  slated  for  a  fall. 

I  am  opposed  to  putting  the  entire  economic  life  of  a  national  com- 
munity into  the  hands  of  property  owners  and  bankers  who  must 
use  their  wealth  primarily  to  earn  profits  for  themselves.  But  I  am  no 
less  opposed  to  giving  the  whole  job  to  governments.  Society,  today, 
needs  an  economy  of  checks  and  balances,  one  in  which  the  state  can 
check  private  capital,  in  which  private  capital  can  balance  the  state, 
and  in  which  citizens  organized  as  consumers,  or  as  producers  with 
little  or  no  property,  can  check  and  balance  both  the  state  and  capital. 

The  abuses  of  state  monopoly  and  private  monopoly  can  be  cut 
down  sharply  by  withdrawing  certain  economic  functions  from  both 
and  by  correcting  political  and  economic  disequilibrium.  Thus: 

1.  Land  should  be  owned  by  no  one.  (The  air  is  not  owned  by 
anyone.)  Land  should  not  be  bought  or  sold.  There  would  be  no 
mortgages.  Land  would  be  leased  from  the  federal,  state,  or  local  gov- 
ernment and  would  be  held  as  long  as  proper  use  was  made  of  it.  For 
the  privilege  of  use  the  holder  would  pay  a  fee  in  accordance  with  the 
benefits  he  reaps  from  the  land. 

2.  Small  factories,  hotels,  restaurants,  and  similar  small  business 
establishments  should  be  owned  and  administered  co-operatively  by 
their  employees  or  by  the  citizens  of  the  local  community. 

3.  A  maximum  volume  of  retail  and  wholesale  distribution  should 
be  conducted  by  co-operative  stores  in  which  the  consumers  are  the 
stockholders.  Governments  should  encourage  these  by  granting  them 
various  privileges  and  advantages. 

4.  Enterprises  which  must  be  run  on  a  large  scale  because  of  natural 
conditions— hydro-electric  power  production  and  mining,  for  example 
—or  for  reasons  of  technical  efficiency— automobile  manufacturing, 
for  instance— should  be  owned  and  operated  either  by  the  govern- 
ment or  by  private  corporations.  The  government  would  take  the 
enterprises  growing  out  of  natural  resources  which  are  inherently  the 
property  of  the  entire  nation:  electric  power,  timber,  mineral  re- 
sources, etc.,  while  private  business  would  handle  the  rest  under  the 
vigilant  eyes  of  a  regulating  state  and  in  peaceful  collaboration  with 
organized  labor. 


TO  BE  ...  655 

5.  Free  competition  between  government  banks  and  private  banks. 

6.  The  continuation  and  expansion  of  social  security  benefits,  un- 
employment insurance,  bank  deposit  insurance,  public  health  services, 
old-age  protection,  home  building,  compulsory  public  education,  free 
college  education,  supplementary  social  feeding  of  undernourished 
mothers  and  children,  vacations  with  pay,  and  similar  civilized 
measures. 

7.  In  cities,  states,  and  federal  unions,  elections  to  at  least  one  legis- 
lative chamber  should  be  not  by  territories,  as  heretofore,  but  by  oc- 
cupations so  that  law-making  bodies,  instead  of  consisting  chiefly  of 
lawyers  and  professional  politicians,  would  consist  of  teachers,  manu- 
facturers, factory-workers,  office  clerks,  merchants,  physicians,  co- 
operative store  employees,  housewives,  who  could  best  defend  the 
needs  and  reflect  the  views  of  those  who  work  widi  them. 

I  believe  that  under  such  a  balanced  economic  and  political  arrange- 
ment, the  liberty  of  the  individual  would  be  better  protected  than  at 
present.  Moreover,  a  many-sided  economy  wherein  the  state,  the 
co-operatives,  the  capitalist,  and  the  private  citizen  share  the  power 
and  the  work,  would  be  a  better  guarantee  of  material  security  than 
the  systems  that  exist  today  in  the  dictatorships  and  the  democracies. 
After  these  changes  had  been  introduced  and  their  effects  observed, 
further  changes  could  be  made. 

I  have  never  been  doctrinaire.  Life  is  richer  than  dogma.  I  want  to 
know  which  way  I  am  going.  I  want  to  know  the  names  of  the  next 
few  stations.  But  in  these  incalculable  times,  I  cannot  insist  on  know- 
ing the  end  of  the  road.  Some  people  prefer  to  know  the  name  of  the 
terminal  station  without  knowing  the  way  to  get  to  it.  If  it  gives  them 
comfort,  the  comfort  is  illusory.  Names  are  fickle.  Hitler  and  Mus- 
solini also  claim  to  be  "Socialists"  and  rant  against  capitalism.  They 
may  indeed  intend  to  introduce  "Socialism"— the  socialism  of  the  offi- 
cial knout,  the  socialism  of  the  secret  police.  I  prefer  to  think  in  terms 
of  a  better  and  a  cleaner  life  for  human  beings. 

I  have  lived  in  all  the  major  dictatorships— Russia,  Germany,  and 
Italy.  My  experience  teaches  me  that  democracy,  with  all  its  faults,  is 
better  than  any  of  these.  My  experience  teaches  me  that  the  mainte- 
nance of  personal  freedom  should  be  the  primary  consideration  of 
every  human  being.  It  is  never  a  choice  between  freedom  and  a  full 
stomach.  No  dictatorship  has  given  either.  Only  men  and  women  who 
have  freedom  and  who  have  not  seen  it  abolished  in  dictatorships  can 
fail  to  understand  what  it  means  to  be  deprived  of  it.  But  my  observa- 


656  CONCLUSION 

tions  throughout  nineteen  years  of  crowded  European  history  also 
lead  me  to  believe  that  without  a  more  ethical  and  a  more  equitable 
economic  system,  freedom  and  democracy  succumb  to  dictatorship. 

Fortunately,  Great  Britain  must,  to  conduct  and  to  win  the  War, 
institute  changes  which  will,  by  concrete  example,  show  the  British 
people,  and  the  people  of  the  Continent,  that  the  world  after  the  War 
is  likely  to  be  an  improvement  on  the  pre-War  world.  To  defeat 
Hitler  is  highly  important  but  far  from  everything.  The  Kaiser  was 
defeated,  too.  When  a  Tory  Member  of  Parliament,  Sir  Archibald 
Southby,  declared  on  the  British  radio  in  February,  1941,  that  "no- 
body was  interested  in  anything  but  beating  Hitler,"  the  Archbishop 
of  York  immediately  accused  him  of  "impenetrable  stupidity." 

This  War  is  breaking  the  social  ice  everywhere.  War  releases  dy- 
namic forces.  If  properly  directed  they  could  win  the  war  and  the 
peace. 

In  the  midst  of  a  vast  conflict,  England  naturally  cannot  build  the 
millennium.  Nor  can  it  launch  the  new  internationalism  while  Hitler 
is  astride  the  Continent.  But  the  War  has  given  the  British  govern- 
ment and  the  British  masses  powers  which  they  do  not  ordinarily 
have,  and  it  should  therefore  be  possible  to  mike  social  alterations 
now,  without  violence,  which  could  only  be  achieved  at  great  cost 
and  against  great  resistance  in  times  of  peace.  Labor  leaders  suspect, 
moreover,  that  if  they  do  not  clinch  their  desired  reforms  now  they 
may  be  cheated  of  them  later  on. 

The  struggle  within  England  has  commenced.  The  monopolists,  the 
privileged  upper  strata  will  not  yield  their  ground  without  combat. 
The  rival  forces  are  already  fighting  for  every  official  post,  for  every 
decision  on  policy,  for  every  act  of  government.  While  this  battle 
rages,  no  war  aims  can  be  final.  War  aims,  or  peace  terms,  depend 
on  who  makes  them  and  for  whonTthey  are  made.  Until  the  struggle 
Inside  .Britain  is  decided,  war  aims;  if  "enunciated,"  would  be  inconclu- 
sive. The  shape  of  the  peace  to  come,  assuming  Hitler's  defeat,  will 
be  determined  by  the  extent  of  the  social  victory  within  Great  Brit- 
ain. Where  the  Tories  are  best  entrenched  they  will  strive  hardest  to 
retain  their  hold:  in  India,  for  example.  The  fate  of  India  will  affect 
the  nature  of  the  peace.  If  the  reactionaries  have  sufficient  power  over 
the  British  government  to  perpetuate  the  old  in.  India  they  will  also 
be  able  to  hamper  the  emergence  of  the  new  in  Europe. 

But  India  is  a  perfect  example  of  how  liberal  political  measures  can 
influence  the  outcome  of  the  War.  India  is  a  vast  continent  with  end- 


TO  BE  ...  657 

less  human  resources.  But  India's  heart  is  not  in  the  War.  A  few 
of  the  outstanding  champions  of  her  freedom— Jawaharlal  Nehru, 
among  them— were  sent  to  prison  after  the  War  started.  India  has 
been  having  a  robust  political  life.  The  Indians  are  anti-Japanese. 
They  feel  a  kinship  for  the  Chinese.  If  they  had  any  zeal  for  the  War 
they  could  be  a  tower  of  strength  to  England  and  the  United  States. 
But  how  can  they  fight  for  the  independence  of  others  when  they 
have  no  independence  themselves? 

In  former  wars,  men  put  their  brains  on  a  shelf  and  became  "can- 
non fodder"  for  the  duration.  But  nowadays,  there  are  no  non-com- 
batants in  a  war.  Everyody— men,  women,  and  children— is  in  the 
trenches,  and  everyone  asks  what  is  it  all  about,  what  does  it  mean, 
"is  it  important"?  "Ideas  are  weapons,"  Max  Lerner  has  said.  The 
British  can  fight  with  bombs  and  ideas,  and  the  ideas  will  be  the  more 
explosive  the  more  they  have  already  been  translated  into  tangible, 
visible  reality.  Democracy  begins  at  home.  The  old  democracy  which 
did  not  destroy  war,  depressions,  racial  feuds,  slums,  unemployment, 
and  the  germs  of  dictatorship  has  something  to  recommend  it.  But  in 
itself  it  may  not  move  men  to  the  passionate  faith  and  the  crusading 
spirit  that  wins.  Men  must  see  a  vision  before  they  go  forth  to  die. 
Nobody  painted  one  for  the  French.  By  bringing  the  people's  repre- 
sentatives into  the  government,  Winston  Churchill  has  outlined  one 
for  the  British.  The  outline  has  to  be  filled  in. 

A  Fascist  victory  will  extend  the  black  night  of  dictatorship  and 
human  bondage  over  most  of  the  world.  America  would  be  not 
merely  an  arsenal.  It  would  become  a  fortress  and  a  garrisoned  town, 
madly  geared  to  military  needs  with  all  that  that  implies  in  living 
/standards  and  civil  liberties  when  it  lasts  over  a  long  period. 

Social  engineering  has  devised  no  method  of  insulating,  social  chem- 
istry has  developed  no  means  of  immunizing  a  part  of  humanity 
against  the  insinuating,  corroding  influence  of  a  conquering  totali- 
tarianism. No  man  will  be  secure.  No  man  will  be  happy.  No  man  will 
be  free. 

No  sacrifice  is  too  great  to  check  the  black  plague  of  the  twentieth 
century  which  would  set  us  back  to  the  thirteenth.  Lives  and  limbs 
and  eyes  will  be  sacrificed;  health  and  nerves  and  the  food  of  children 
will  be  sacrificed;  mildewed  institutions  and  stale  ideas  can  likewise 
be  sacrificed.  For  all  these  sacrifices,  man  demands  one  compensation: 
that  the  supreme  sacrifice  of  war  shall  never  again  be  necessary. 


Index 


ABC  of  Cowmumsrn,  by  Bukharin  and 
Preobrazhensky,  62 

Abetz,  Otto,  573 

Abramovitch,  Rafael,  Russian  exile,  504 

Adamic,  Louis,  212 

Adamic,  Stella,  212 

Adams,  Vyvyan,  484 

Adler,  Philip  A.,  on  Louis  Fischer,  161 

Agronsky,  Ethel,  243 

Agronsty,  Gershon,  243 

Akulov,  Soviet  Attorney  General,  226, 
227 

Alcazar,  siege  of,  359-369 

Alexander,  A.  V.,  M.P.,  467 

Alexandrovsky,  Soviet  Ambassador  to 
Prague,  493 

Alksnis,  General,  499 

All  Quiet  on  the  Western  Front,  by 
Erich  Remarque,  174 

AUeluyeva,  Nadezhda,  death,  344 

Allen,  Jay,  256,  257,  326,  327,  472 

Allied  Arms  Commission,  inspects  facto- 
ries, 10;  discovers  hidden  arms  in  Ger- 
many, ii 

Alsace  and  Lorraine,  and  Locarno  Pact, 
106 

Alsberg,  Henry  G.,  59,  70 

Amau,  Eiji,  294,  295 

American  Jewish  Joint  Distribution  Com- 
mittee, Polish  aid,  13 

American  R>elief  Administration,  59 

Anarchists,  in  Spain,  427,  428 

Anderson,  Paul  Y.,  210 

Andreyev,  97 

Antonius,  George,  Arab  nationalist,  245 

Antonov-Avseyenko,  77 

Appeasement,  beginnings,  316-318;  and 
fall  of  France,  553-574 

ARA  (American  Relief  Administration) , 

59 

Araquistain,  Finki,  582 

Araquistain,  Luis,  253,  254,  358,  418,  580- 
582 

Araquistain,  Trudi,  580-582,  594 

Archbishop  of  York,  manifesto  on  post- 
War  reconstruction,  648,  649 

Arco,  Count,  Kurt  Eisner's  assassin,  40; 
Hitler's  jealousy  of,  101 

Arens,  Soviet  Consul  in  New  York,  397 


Armstrong,  Hamilton  Fish,  472,  555 
Asch,  Sholom,  in  Soviet  Union,  193 
Asensio,  General  Jose,  365,  391,  393 
Asmus,  Soviet  Minister  in  Finland,  495 
Astor,  David,  196 
Astor,  Lady  Nancy,   555;  in  Moscow, 

196-198 

Atholl,  Duchess  of,  see  Duchess  of  Atholl 
Atdee,  Clement  R.,  462,  467,  557;  with 

Labor  Delegation  to  Spain,  464 
August  Wilhelm,  son  of  Kaiser,  174 
Austria,  1921,  9,  10;  1922,  18-22;  7^35-,  280, 

281 

Austro-Hungary,  World  War  I  casual- 
ties, 12 

Ayguade,  Jaime,  416 

Azaiia,  Manuel,  on  land  reform,  256;  in- 
terviews with,  323-326, 418-421;  on  con- 
tinuation of  war,  420;  refugee,  592 
Azcarate,  Pablo,  450,  466,  610;  in  Geneva, 
575 

•Baker,  Newton  D.t  on  reparations,  104 

Baldwin,  Hanson  W.,  657 

Baldwin,  Stanley,  272,  279;  anti-Soviet, 
88;  and  Italian  sanctions,  263-265 

Balf our,  Lord,  on  Anglo-Soviet  relations, 
88 

Barcelona,  bombarded,  475,  476 

Barmine,  Soviet  Charg6  <f  Affaires  in 
Greece,  495 

Barnes,  Joseph,  442 

Barrio,  Martinez,  387,  537,  538 

Bartlett,  Vernon,  383,  466,  615 

Baseches,  232-234 

Bate,  Fred,  615 

Bates,  Ernest  Sutherland,  472 

Bates,  Ralph,  423 

Bauer,  Gisela,  454 

Bauer,  Otto,  281 

Bazhenov,  Russian  architect,  341 

Deals,  Carleton,  519 

Beattie,  Bessie,  on  U.S.S.R.,  299,  300 

Beaverbrook,  Lord,  no 

Bebb,  Captain  C.  W.  H.,  481 

Beck,  Joseph,  interview  with,  290,  291; 
on  German  occupation  of  the  Rhine- 
land,  318-320 

Bedni,  Demyan,  54,  58 


659 


660 


INDEX 


Bekzadian,  Soviet  Minister  to  Hungary, 
495 

Belayev,  361 

Bell,  Dr.,  27 

Benes,  Eduard,  description,  282,  283; 
orders  mobilization,  555;  on  U.S.SJEU 
569,  570 

Berar,  Armand,  286 

Berliner  Tageblatt,  6,  7;  on  Jagow  sen- 
tence, ii;  on  Rathenau  assassination, 
35;  on  the  "messiah  plague,"  44;  on 
danger  which  threatens  Germany,  174 

Bernstein,  Oscar,  212 

Bessarabia,  Rakovsky  on,  133 

Bessie,  Alvah,  546 

Bessonov,  500,  603;  on  trial,  514 

Besteiro,  Julian,  420 

Bevan,  Aneurin,  616 

Biddle,  Anthony  J.  Drexel,  289 

Bingham,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Ralph 
Charles,  648 

Birchall,  Frederick  T^  556 

Blanshard,  Julia,  212 

Blanshard,  Paul,  212 

Bluecher,  Marshal,  see  General  Galen 

Blum,  Le"on,  election  of,  321,  322;  and 
Spanish  civil  war,  431,  448,  449,  477, 
478;  conversation  with  Jos6  Giral,  461, 
462 

Boess,  Gustav,  Mayor  of  Berlin  1921,  9 

Bo|danov,  Peter,  54;  on  Soviet  produc- 
tion, 52 

Bogomolov,  Counsellor,  123;  Soviet  Am- 
bassador in  China,  495 

Bolsheviks,  defeat  Pilsudski,  14;  and  re- 
ligion, 62-64.  See  also  Communist 
Party;  Soviet  Union 

Bonnet,  Georges,  498,  646;  and  Spanish 
civil  war,  538;  and  Czechoslovakian 
crisis,  556,  560,  561 

Boothby,  Robert,  MJP.,  466,  626 

Borah,  Sen.  William,  on  Soviet  recogni- 
tion, 213 

Borodin,  Fannie,  138 

Borodin,  Michael,  527,  528;  and  Soviet- 
Chinese  relations,  85,  137,  138-140;  on 
Radek,  139,  140;  on  Great  Britain,  140 

Borotra,  French  tennis  ace,  551,  552 

Bourke-White,  Margaret,  191 

Bowers,  Claude  G.,  U.  S.  Ambassador  to 
Spain,  254 

Bracken,  Brendan,  Secretary  to  Churchill, 
623 

Brailsford,  H.  Noel,  467 

Branting,  Georg,  319 

Braun,  Otto,  President  of  Prussia,  30 


Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  26;  Lenin's  part  in, 

68 
Briand,  Aristide,  and  Locarno  Pact,  106; 

lunch  with  Stresemann,  108;  on  United 

States  of  Europe,  no 
Brief  History  of  Russia,  by  Professor 

Pokrovsky,  341 
British  Agent,  by  R.  H.  Bruce  Lockhart, 

149 
British  Trade  Union  Congress,  general 

strike,  84 
Britt,  George,  212 
Brockdorff-Rantzau,  Count,  Ambassador 

to  Moscow,  124,  125;  on  Soviet-Ger- 
man collaboration,  148,  149 
Brodovsky,   Soviet  Minister  to  Latvia, 

495 

Brophy,  John,  at  Stalin  interview,  89-91 

Broun,  Heywood,  210 

Browder,  Earl,  305;  on  Nazi-Soviet  pact, 
609 

Bruening,  Heinrich,  172;  resignations, 
176,  1 80;  reforms,  178-180 

Brunete,  425 

Bryan,  Julian,  195 

Bubnov,  Commissar  of  Education,  499 

Budberg,  Countess,  149 

Buckley,  Henry,  359 

Buell,  Raymond  Leslie,  472 

Buelow,  von,  148 

Bukharin,  Nicholas,  58,  437,  499;  on  puri- 
tanical discipline,  56;  on  religion,  62; 
ABC  of  Comnwmsm,  62;  on  Stalin,  75, 
96-98,  524;  on  Trotzky,  79;  on  the 
peasant  question,  82;  on  world  revolu- 
tion, 127;  on  trial,  512,  513,  523 

Bukhartsev,  507 

Bulanov,  524 

Bulgaria,  Vienna  intrigues,  21 

Bullitt,  William  Christian,  306,  470,  471, 
559;  on  peace  mission  to  U.S.S.R.,  132; 
as  U.  S,  Ambassador  to  U.S.S.R.,  299, 
300,  302,  303,  308;  and  Litvmov,  303; 
U.  S*  Ambassador  to  France,  308;  and 
aid  to  Fascist  victory  in  Spain,  586;  in 
praise  of  Daladier,  591 

Burhart-Bukachki,  General,  291 

Caballero,  Largo,  253, 326, 391, 418;  leader 
of  Spanish  Socialists,  257;  as  Prime 
Minister  of  Spain,  353;  and  Loyalist 
anny,  354;  Louis  Fischer's  letter  to, 
373,  374;  interview  with,  374-376 

Caldwell,  Erskine,  532 

Cameron,  May,  212 

Campbell,  Alan,  532 


INDEX 


661 


Campinchi,  C&ar,  French  Minister  of  the 

Navy,  558 
Canfield,  Cass,  195 
Cannon,  Walter  B.,  472 
Capitalism,  results  of,  652,  653 
Capper,  Senator,  on  aggression,  112 
Carmen,  reporter  for  bwestia,  396 
Carroll,  Wallace,  261 
Carter,  Horsfall,  371 
Catalonia,  425,  426 
Catholic  Church,  and  Spanish  civil  war, 

474 

Catt,  Carrie  Chapman,  473 

Cazallet,  Major,  MP.,  615 

Cecil,  Lord  Robert,  263,  268,  537,  538 

Cerf,  Bennett,  532 

Chamberlain,  Sir  Austen,  anti-Soviet,  88; 
and  Locarno  Pact,  106;  intrigues  with 
Mussolini,  109 

Chamberlain,  Sir  Neville,  624;  aid  to  Hit- 
ler, 554,  557,  5^2-564;  pacifist,  573;  in 
Geneva,  577;  abandons  appeasement, 
588-590;  and  Nazi-Soviet  pact,  606,  607; 
on  "a  new  international  order,"  641 

Chamberlin,  Sonya,  62 

Chamberlin,  William  Henry,  61,  62,  614 

Charak,  Amy,  212 

Charak,  Walter,  212 

Charles,  Sir  Noel,  631 

Chase,  Stuart,  212;  interview  with  Stalin, 
89-91 

Chautemps,  Camille,  565,  568 

Chen,  Jack,  155 

Chen,  Percy,  155 

Chen,  Sylvia,  155,  156 

Chen,  Yolanda,  155 

Chernov,  499;  on  trial,  522 

Cherrington,  Ben,  194 

Cherviakov,  438 

Chiang  Kai-shek,  aided  by  U.S.S.R.,  85, 
489,  621 

Chicherin,  Georgi,  85;  on  the  question 
of  the  Ruhr,  69;  on  Trotzky,  76;  on 
the  threat  of  war,  88;  at  Saviokov's 
trial,  n8;  on  Soviet  foreign  policy,  127, 
128;  on  Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  137;  inti- 
mate history  of,  140-147;  on  disarma- 
ment, 142;  on  Communist  International, 
145;  on  Allied  intervention  in  U.S.S.R., 
145,  146;  on  Soviet  entrance  into 
League  of  Nations,  147;  on  Soviet- 
German  collaboration,  149;  death,  147 

China,  revolution  in,  85;  and  U.S.S.R.,  85 

Christensen,  Edith,  212 

Churchill,  Winston,  424,  468;  and  British 
general  strike,  84;  and  Czechoslo- 
vakia crisis,  556,  557;  on  Germany  of 


'9319  269;  interview  with,  623-625; 
proclamation  on  Franco-British  union, 
641;  fights  the  Nazis,  646,  648 

Cianfarra,  Camille  M.,  on  Franco,  474 

Ciano,  Count,  Mussolini's  son-in-law,  633 

Cisneros,  Ignacio,  396 

Cisneros,  Lull,  407 

Citrine,  Walter,  557 

Civil  Guard,  in  Spain,  328 

dark,  Colonel,  483     • 

dark,  Dr.  Hilda,  19 

dark,  R.  T.,  Fall  of  the  German  Repub- 
lic, The,  joi 

Cockburn,  Claude,  383,  385 

Cogswell,  Mollie,  334 

Collective  security,  271 

Comintern,  see  Communist  International 

Communism,  and  puritanism,  56;  cannot 
win  in  Europe,  650-652 

Communist  International,  addressed"  by 
Lenin,  55;  seventh  congress,  306,  307; 
on  the  Popular  Front,  307 

Communist  party,  and  Munich,  571,  572; 
of  China:  and  Kuomintang,  85;  of  Ger- 
many: plan  of  revolution,  101;  policies, 
170,  171;  of  Great  Britain:  and  World 
War  II,  616,  617;  of  Spain,  417,  490; 
opposition,  84 

CNT,   anarcho-syndicalist  trade  union, 

Congress  for  Peace  and  Freedom,  537, 

538 

Cooper,  Colonel  Hugh,  208 
Corbin,  French  Ambassador  in  London, 

449 
Cot,  Pierre,  537,  538,  555;  aid  to  Loyalists, 

448,  449 

Coulondre,  Robert,  605 
Counts,  George  S.,  Soviet  Challenge  to 

America,  194 
Cowley,  Malcolm,  413 
Cox,  Geoffrey,  382,  383 
Cripps,  Sir  Stafford,  MP-,  466,  625,  626 
Cross,  R.  H.,  MJP.,  484 
Cudahy,  John,  diplomat,  289,  290 
Curzon,  Lord,  on  Soviet  oil  concessions, 

122 

Cutting,  Bronson  M.,  210 

Czechoslovakia,  1935,  282,  283;  and  Ger- 
man revolution,  69;  pact  with  U.S.S.R., 
270;  to  fight  Hitler,  493;  is  sold  out, 
553-573 

Dadiuk,  386 

Daladier,  Edouard,  270;  and  Spanish  civil 

war,  431;  non-intervention  policy,  447; 

and    Czechoslovakian    crisis,    556-558» 


662 


INDEX 


and  Munich,  571,  572;  and  Nazi-Soviet 

pact,   606,  607;   and  Blum,  628;   and 

World  War  II,  615,  646,  648 
Dalton,  Hugh,  M.P.,  468,  626 
Darlan,  Admiral,  449 
Darr6,  Loyalist  flyer,  356,  357 
David,  Fritz,  411;  on  trial,  506 
Davidson,  Jo,  sculptor,  532,  604 
Davies,  Joseph  E.,  U.  S.  Ambassador  to 

U.S.S.R.,  308 
Davis,  Professor  Jerome,  interview  with 

Stalin,  89-91 
Davtyan,  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Poland, 

291,  495 

Dawes,  Charles  G.,  102 

Dawes  Plan,  102,  103,  105 

de  Brinon,  Count  Ferdnand,  270 

de  Caux,  E.  G.,  326 

de  Chambrun,  Count  Ren6,  275,  331 

Decline  of  the  West,  by  Oswald  Speng- 
ler,  45 

Defense  of  the  Republic  bill,  40,  41 

de  la  Fuente,  Senor,  328 

de  la  Mora,  Constancia,  323-325,  456-460; 
In  Place  of  Splendor,  323 

de  Lanux,  Pierre,  538 

Delbos,  Yvon,  449;  on  prevention  of  war, 
446 

Dell,  Floyd,  212 

Dell,  Robert,  261,  264 

Delmer,  Sefton,  626 

de  los  Rios,  Fernando,  414 

de  los  Rios,  Giner,  416 

del  Vayo,  Julio  Alvarez,  195,  323,  391, 
415,  455-457*  5<*o;  at  Geneva,  402,  403, 
575»  57<5;  description,  449,  450;  Foreign 
Minister,  353,  479;  in  France,  363,  364; 
refugee,  592 

del  Vayo,  Luisy,  537,  538 

de  Monzie,  Anatole,  632,  646 

de  Ribes,  Champetier,  French  Minister  of 
Pensions,  558 

Deterding,  Sir  Henri,  122 

dc  Torres,  Demetrio  Delgado,  326 

Deuss,  334 

Deutsche  Allgemeine  Zeitung,  on  Arms 
Control  Commission,  10;  on  Rathenau 
assassination,  35 

Dewey,  Prof.  John,  194,  472,  519 

DiekhofF,  interview  with,  284 

Dimitrov,  George,  Nazi  trial,  404;  inter- 
view with,  404,  405;  on  Spanish  civil 
war,  440,  441 ;  on  World  War  II,  608 

Dirksen,  Ambassador  von,  148,  296 

Disarmament,  11,  xn 

Ditmar,  Max,  502 

Djerzhinsky,  at  Savinkov's  trial,  118 


Dobbie,  W.,  M.P.,  467,  626 
Dodd,  Martha,  286,  450 
Dodd,  William  E.,  125;  U.  S.  Ambassa- 
dor to  Germany,  286;  anti-Nazi,  312, 

3J3 

Doletsky,  438,  439 

Dollfuss,  Chancellor,  assassinated,  281 

Domen china,  Jose,  418 

Doria,  Prince  Filippo,  274 

Dos  Passes,  John,  429 

Douglas,  Paul  H.,  at  Stalin  interview, 
89-91 

Dreiser,  Theodore,  on  Soviet  Union,  190; 
and  Spanish  civil  war,  538,  539 

Driscoll,  Joseph,  555 

Drummond,  Sir  Eric,  331;  British  Ambas- 
sador to  Italy,  275 

Duchess  of  Atholl,  484,  537;  aid  to  Loyal- 
ists, 464-466 

Dunn,  Robert,  at  Stalin  interview,  89-91 

Durant,  Kenneth,  212,  299,  300 

Durant,  Will,  194 

Duranty,  Walter,  61,  334,  603;  at  Savin- 
kov's  trial,  1 1 8;  journalist,  154,  155 

Durutti,  Buenaventura,  394,  395 

Dutilleul,  French  Deputy,  391,  392 

Dutt,  R.  Palme,  Communist  editor, '170 

Eberhardt,  Hans,  see  Ludwig 

Ebert,  Fritz,  first  German  president,  25 

Ebro  River,  battle,  540-551 

Eden,  Anthony,  267;  on  German  occupa- 
tion of  the  Rhineland,  3x8-320;  at 
Nyon  Conference,  444 

Eddy,  Sherwood,  195 

Ehrhardt,  Captain,  39,  40;  his  band  ac- 
complishes Erzberger  assassination,  n 

Eiche,  Commissar  of  Agriculture,  dis- 
missed, 499 

Eisenstein,  Sergei,  301,  302,  340 

Eliot,  George  Fielding,  471 

Eliot,  T.  S.,  629 

Elliot,  Dr.  John  Lovejoy*  348,  604 

Elliott,  Sydney  R,,  323 

Enderis,  Guido,  159 

England,  see  Great  Britain 

Enver  Pasha,  129 

Erzberger,  Matthias,  assassination,  u 

Ethiopian  War,  diplomatic  background, 
263,  265-273 

Europe,  1918,  3;  1923-1929,  73-n6;  19$$, 
265-298;  in  World  War  II,  603-637; 
need  for  reorganization,  644 

Evans,  Ernestine,  122 

Facta,  Prime  Minister,  272 
Fairchild,  Professor,  195 


T 

J.  • 


INDEX 

EeptAlic>  The>  b7      GaU»P 


663 

on  lifting  embargo  on  Spain, 


Fallieres,  Annand,  420 


'53 


German,  basis  for,  114;  agent  of 


Faymonville,  Philip  R.,  292 

Feinberg,  439 

Ferry,  Jim,  218 

Feuchtwanger,  Lion,  195 

Fischer,  George,  293,  586-588 

Fischer,  Hermann,  Rathenau  assassin,  34; 
flight,  35-39 

Fischer,  Louis,  biographical  notes,  47, 160, 
161;  quartermaster,  International  Bri- 
gade, 386-388;  Oil  Imperialism,  93,  122- 
124;  Soviets  in  World  Affairs,  132,  150- 
152;  Why  Recognize  Russia?,  211;  a 
solution  for  the  ills  of  world,  654 

Fischer,  Markoosha,  see  Markoosha 

Fischer,  Victor  <Vitya),  293,  586,  587 

Fish,  Hamilton,  Jr.,  209 

Fisher,  Irving,  on  reparations,  104 

Flandin,  Pierre-Etienne,  315;  on  German 
occupation  of  the  Rhineland,  318-320 

Flesch,  Werner,  33 

Fodor,  M.  W.,  280 

Forbes-Robertson,  Miss  Jean,  626 

Forrest,  William,  378 

France,  1918,  3;  1921,  5;  World  War  I 
casualties,  12;  recognizes  U.S.S.R.,  87; 

269-272;  relations  with  Germany 

270;  appeasement  by,  316-318; 
elections,  321;  appeasement  of 
Hitler  in  Austria,  555;  more  appease- 
ment, 564-567;  defeatist,  569;  declares 
war  on  Germany,  611;  in  World  War 
n,  614,  615,  627-630 

Francis  Joseph,  Emperor,  death,  18 

Francis,  U.  S.  Ambassador,  150 

Franco,  Francisco,  324;  reprisals  by,  593, 

594 

Franco-Soviet  pact,  270,  271 
Fran9ois-Poncet,  M.,  French  Ambassador 

to  Germany,  286,  631 
Frank*  Jerome  N.,  471 
Frank,  Waldo,  195,  532 
"Fredericus  Rex,"  28,  29 
Freeman,  Joseph,  212 
Freikorps,  40 
French  Yellow  Book,  605 
Frunze,  78;  replaces  Trotzky,  79;  on  the 

question  of  Bessarabia,  134 
Fuqua,  Colonel  Stephen  O.,  292,  395 

Galen,  General,  85 


Gamarnik,  General,  435 

Gamelin,  General,  628,  636;  and  Czecho- 

slovaltian  crisis,  557,  558 
Gandhi,  Mahatma,  and  Spanish  civil  war 

^"8 

Gannett,  Lewis,  69,  70,  212 

Gary,  Judge,  on  Franco-German  steel 
cartel,  109 

Gates,  Johnny,  546 

Gaus,  treaty  writer  for  German  Foreign 
Office,  148 

Gedye,  G.  E.  R.,  280 

Geist,  Raymond  H.,  U.  S.  Consul,  286 

Gellhorn,  Martha,  532 

Geneva,  7.935,  261-263 

Genoa  Conference,  1922,  122 

Geography  of  Europe,  historical  influ- 
ence, 21,  22 

George,  David  Lloyd,  aid  to  Loyalists, 
466;  interview  with,  533-536 

Germany,  7^27,  5-9,  10,  n;  inflation,  7-9; 
reparations,  10,  42,  43,  103,  104;  World 
War  I  casualties,  12;  post-War,  23-45 j 
role  of  army,  30;  political  assassinations, 
39;  industrialists,  42;  housewives'  riots, 
42;  1922,  economic  conditions',  43,  44; 
7^3,  69;  taxes,  103;  Locarno  Pact,  106; 
League  of  Nations,  106;  foreign  policy, 
113;  basis  for  Fascism,  114;  death  of 
democracy,  165-186;  1930,  chaos,  eco- 
nomic conditions,  172-174;  7^37,  174; 
7^3.2,  elections,  176,  177;  youth  organ- 
izations, 177,  178;  193$,  283-289;  pre- 
pares for  war,  284,  285;  takes  Rhine- 
land,  314-321;  aid  to  Franco,  355 

Gilbert,  S.  Parker,  administrator  of 
Dawes  Plan,  102,  103,  213;  on  U.  S. 
recognition  of  U.S.S.R.,  148 

Gilmor,  Colonel  Albert,  291 

Giral,  Jose",  416,  449;  conversation  with 
Lion  Blum,  461,  462 

Glan,  Betty,  499 

Glinka,  Russian  composer,  340 

Gluck,  Alma,   195 

Goebbels,  Joseph,  German  Propaganda 
Minister,  on  Bolshevism,  271;  on 
Munich  pact,  574 

Goering,  Hermann,  287;  at  Dimitrov's 
trial,  404 

Goldberg,  Abe,  244 

Goldman,  Emma,  371 

Goldstein,  Rabbi  Israel,  195 

Goleizovsky,  ballet  impresario,  56 

Gone  with  the  Wind,  573 

Gordon-Lennox,  Victor,  466,  615,  626 


664 


INDEX 


Goriev,  General,  362,  372,  395,  398,  429 

Gorky,  Maxim,  149,  517;  and  Yagoda, 
228,  229 

Gorman,  Francis  J.,  472 

GPU,  Soviet  secret  police,  219-236;  and 
religion,  64;  in  Shulgin  case,  120,  121; 
and  Stalin,  222-239;  abroad,  508-510 

Grad,  President  of  White  Russia,  499 

Grady,  Mrs.  Eve  Garret,  on  Soviet 
Union,  205,  206 

Grand  Duchy  of  Warsaw,  13 

Grasty,  Charles  H.,  on  Anglo-French 
antagonisms,  n 

Gray,  Muriel,  305 

Great  Britain,  1921,  4,  5,  n;  "World  War 
I  casualties,  12;  Soviet  relations,  87,  88; 
*935,  263-269;  relations  with  Hitler, 
266-268;  appeasement  policy  of,  316- 
318;  aid  to  Mussolini,  330-332;  Parlia- 
ment, Question  Time,  464,  465;  ap- 
peases Hitler  in  Austria,  555;  declares 
war  on  Germany,  6n;  World  War  II, 
615-627;  dependent  on  U.  S.  A.,  1941, 
641;  change  in  social  psychology  of, 
648-650,  656 

Greenway,  Mr.,  Secretary  of  U.  S.  Em- 
bassy in  Britain,  296 

Grepp,  Gerda,  383,  385 

Grinko,  499;  on  trial,  522 

Grishin,  General,  427 

Groener,  outlaws  S.  A.,  178;  on  Ger- 
many's war  defeat,  180;  resignation,  181 

Gruening,  Ernest,  69 

Guernica,  476 

Guides,  Abel,  357,  358 

Gumbel,  Dr.  E,  J.,  39 

Gumberg,  Alex,  147,  148,  211,  212 

Gumberg,  Frankie,  212 

Gunther,  John,  journalist,  154,  404,  615 

Haeusser,  Louis,  44 

Haig,  General,  535 

Haldane,  J.  B.  S.,  466 

Halifax,  Lord,  268,  626,  631,  632;  and 

Czechoslovakia,  553,  554 
Hall,  Helen,  472,  599 
Hamilton,  Hamish,  626 
Hammett,  Dashiell,  600 
Hanighen,  Frank,  6x8 
Harden,  Maximilian,  37 
Harper,  Professor  Heber,  194 
Harris,  Helen  M,,  348 
Hart,  Captain  Liddell,  466,  533,  534 
Harrington,  Marquess  of,  484 
Hawes,  Elizabeth,  193 
Hayes,  Roland,  in  Soviet  Union,  191 
Haywood,  Bill,  276 


Heiden,  Konrad,  on -Hitler,  99-100 

Heines,  Nazi  Deputy,  173 

Helfferich,  Karl,  German  Reichstag 
Deputy,  32 

Heller,  A.  A.,  472 

Hellman,  Lillian,  532 

Hemingway,  Ernest,  460,  532 

Henderson,  Loy,  308 

Henderson,  Sir  Nevile,  554 

Henlein,  Konrad,  556 

Herbst,  Josephine,  193,  212 

Hernandez,  Jesus,  416,  422,  490,  593 

Harriot,  Edouard,  463;  takes  office,  106; 
for  aid  to  Loyalist  Spain,  448,  449 

Hillman,  Bill,  123,  124 

Hillman,  Sidney,  48,  129 

Hills,  Major,  MJP.,  479 

Hindenburg,  Marshal  von,  173,  285; 
What  We  Have  Lost,  10;  elected 
President,  29;  re-election,  177;  on 
Bruening's  reforms,  179,  180 

Hindus,  Maurice,  158,  159,  106 

Hirota,  Koki,  on  Japanese  foreign  policy, 
294-296 

Hitler,  Adolf,  73;  first  appearance,  44; 
beer  hall  putsch,  99-101;  march  on 
Munich,  100;  letter  to  magazine,  The 
Nation,  101;  and  Catholic  Church,  116; 
promises,  168;  candidate  for  President, 
176, 177;  rise  to  power,  176-184;  tactics, 
181,  182;  explanation  for,  184-186; 
pacifist  speeches,  285;  demands  on 
Czechoslovakia,  561-563;  what  he  has 
to  offer,  645 

Hoare,  Sir  Samuel,  272;  and  sanctions  on 
Italy,  264,  265;  on  Ethiopia,  279 

Hodgson,  Robert,  65 

Hoffman,  Camiile,  282,  493 

Hoffmann,  General  Max  von,  on  "Bol- 
shevik propaganda  offensive,*'  10 

Hoover,  Herbert,  aid  to  Poland,  13; 
U.  S.  recognition  of  U.S.S.R.,  148 

Hore-Belisha,  Leslie,  on  purposes  of 
World  War  II,  641 

Howard,  Dean,  48 

Howard,  Roy  W^  195,  209 

Howe,  Jim,  48 

Hughes,  Charles  Evans,  on  Washington 
Arms  Limitation  Conference,  ix;  and 
Soviet  Russia,  70,  209 
Hull,  Cordell,  291,  472 

Hungary,  Vienna  intrigues,  21 
Huysmans,  Martha,  356-358 

Ickes,  Harold,  472 

Ilf,  Little  Qolden  Calf,  301;  in  U,  &  An 
397 


INDEX 


Ilinsky,  439 

India,  a  force  in  World  War  II,  656, 

Insldp,  Sir  Thomas;  484,  on  Spanish  Civil 
war,  485,  486 

International  Brigade,  354,  393.395;  dis- 
banded, 576 

International  Chamber  of  Commerce,  on 
trade  barriers,  no 

Irujo,  Manuel,  416 

Israels,  L,  Stalin  interview,  89-91 

Italy,  i92i9  9;  World  War  I  casualties, 
12;  Soviet  recognition,  87;  economic 
sanctions,  262;  7^5-,  273-279;  relations 
with  Great  Britain,  330-332;  aid  to 
Franco,  355;  pre-World  War  II,  630- 
634 

Ivanov,  Vsevolod,  334 

Jagow,  Herr  von,  imprisoned,  10,  n 
James,  Wing  Commander,  480 
Japan,  recognizes  U.S.S.R.,  87 
Jewish  people,  in  Soviet  Union,  247-249; 

anti-Semitism  in  Poland,  290. 
Jewish  Telegraphic  Agency,  61 
Joffe,  Adolf  A.,  on  Woodrow  Wilson, 

26;  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Berlin,  26; 

and  Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  137;  suicide 

and  funeral,  92-94 
Jouhaux,    Leon,    and    Czechoslovakia!! 

crisis,  557,  558 
Just,  Julio,  391 

Kaganovitch,  Lazar,  505;  removal  of,  97 

Kafir,  Commissioner  von,  99 

Kalinin,  Mikhail,  54 

Kalmanovitch,  438 

Kamenev,  Leo,  54,  411;. prepares  attack 

on  Trotzky,  77;  joins  Trotzky,  82; 

anti-Stalin  alliances,  96-98;  at  Savin- 

kov's  trial,  118 
Kamenev,  General  S.,  54,  57 
Kaminsky,  Gregory,  347,  437 
Kaxnkov,  Boris,  witness  at  Moscow  trial, 

5i9 

Kapp,  Dr.  Wolfgang,  n 

Kapp  Putsch,  Jagow  and,  n 

Karakhan,  Leo,  54,  438,  519;  and  Soviet 
foreign  policy,  127-129;  Soviet-Asiatic 
relations,  137;  on  Brest-Litovsk  treaty, 
137;  Ambassador  to  China,  137;  corre- 
spondence- with  Dr.  Sun  Yat-sen,  137, 
138;  at  Savinkov's  trial,  118;  executed, 
496,  499 

Karelin,  Vladimir,  witness  at  Moscow 
trial,  519 

Karsky,  Soviet  Minister  to  Lithuania,  495 


665 


Katayev,  Squaring  the  Circle,  302 

Katz,  Otto,  454,  551 

Kazakov,  Dr.,  517 

Kellogg  Pact,  112;  Litvinov  on,  128 

Kellogg,  Paul,  president  of  annual  con- 
ference of  Social  Workers,  348,  472, 
599 

Kennedy,  John  F.,  Why  England  Slept, 
564 

Kennedy,  Joseph  P.,  U.  S.  Ambassador  to 
Britain,  470,  564,  586,  625;  interview 
with,  123,  124 

Kenyon,  Dorothy,  472 

Kern,  see  Knauer 

Kern,  Paul  J.,  472 

Kerr,  Philip,  see  Lord  Lothian 

Kerr,  Walter,  614 

Ketchum,  Mr.,  60 

Keyes,  Admiral,  626 

Kjndermann,  Karl,  502 

Kjngsbury,  Professor,  195 

Kinouel,  Lord,  467 

Kirchwey,  Freda,  69,  70,  472 

Kirkpatrick,  Helen,  626 

Kirov,  Sergei  M.,  505,  516;  assassination, 
229 

Kirshon,  438 

Kleber,  General,  401,  404,  405 

Kleeck,  Mary  van,  195,  600 

Klymen,  Rita,  129 

Knauer,  Erwin,  Rathenau  assassin,  34; 
flight,  35-39 

Knickerbocker,  H.  R.,  159,  160,  424,  603, 
604,  614,  615 

Knoll,  Roman,  69 

Koerner,  see  Knauer 

Kolchak,  Admiral,  55 

Koltzov,  Mikhail,  302,  494 

Konar,  see  Poleschuk 

Koo,  Dr.  Wellington,  Chinese  Ambassa- 
dor in  Paris,  452 

Krasnitsky,  Bishop,  63 

Krassin,  Leonid,  12 

Kraval,  439 

Krestinsky,  Assistant  Commissar  of  Jus- 
tice, 438, 499;  and  Soviet  foreign  policy, 
127;  on  trial,  514-516;  sentenced,  496 

Krupskaya,  Nadezhda,  Lenin's  wife,  78 

Krutch,  Joseph  Wood,  212 

Krutch,  Marcelle,  212 

Krylenko,  Eliena,  151 

Krylenko,  Nicholas,  54;  Soviet  Procura- 
tor, 503;  removed  from  office,  499 

Kuchik  Khan,  136 

Kuechenmeister,  Herr,  34 

Kuh,  Frederick  R.,  160,  261,  599,  615, 
627  , 


666 


INDEX 


Kuh,  Renata,  627 

Kuibishev,  517 

Kuomintang,  and  Communist  party,  85 

Kun,  Bela,  interview  with,  310 

Kung,  Dr.,  451,  452 

Kuznetzov,    Nicholas    (Kolya),    Soviet 

Commissar  of  the  Navy,  392 
Kwiatkovsky,  Poland's  Finance  Minister, 

290 

Labour  Monthly,  170 

La  Follette,  Suzanne,  519 

Lamont,  Corliss,  193,  194,  600 

Lament,  Margaret,  193,  194 

Lancaster,  W.  W.,  195 

Lapinsky,  pseud.)  438 

Lardner,  Jim,  dies  in  Spain,  545,  546 

Laski,  Harold  J.,  263,  467;  in  Moscow, 
199;  on  Stalin,  619 

Lateran  Treaty,  115 

Laval,  Pierre,  646;  in  Rome,  193$,  272; 
on  Ethiopian  War,  279;  on  Germany, 
*9M,  270;  in  Moscow,  304,  305 

League  of  Nations,  admits  Germany, 
1 06;  disarmament  debates,  xn;  failure 
of,  644;  Military  Control  Commission, 
Vilna  agreement,  14 

Lee,  Dr.,  451,  452 

Lee,  Ivy,  123 

Lee,  Jenny,  616 

Leger,  Alexis,  627-630 

Lenin,  N.,  new  Economic  Policy,  50; 
illness,  53,  65;  addresses  meeting,  54; 
addresses  Comintern,  55;  on  drinking, 
64;  on  administration  and  culture,  66- 
68;  Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  68,  137;  poli- 
tics, 71;  description  of,  71,  72;  on 
Persia,  136;  on  Lloyd  George,  537; 
death  of,  71;  last  testament  of,  86,  87 

Leonov,  Leonid,  334 

Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians,  neutral, 
320 

Lerner,  Max,  60 1,  657 

Levin,  Dr.,  on  trial,  5x7,  518 

Levin,  Meyer,  532 

Levin,  Dr.  Schmarya,  244 

Levine,  Isaac  Don,  on  Lenin's  death,  65 

Lewis,  Sinclair,  154 

Liebknecht,  Karl,  25 

Lincoln  Brigade,  at  the  Ebro,  545-547 

Lindbergh,  Colonel  Charles  A.,  in  Mos- 
cow, 192,  193;  and  Czechoslovakian 
crisis,  559 

Lippmann,  Walter,  194,  538 

Lipsky,  Louis,  244 

Lister,  Commander  of  Loyalist  troops, 
383 


Litauer,  Stephen,  615 

Litvinov,  Maxim,  560;  on  threat  of  anti- 
Soviet  war,  88;  on  world  revolution, 
127;  description  of,  129;  on  Soviet  for- 
eign policy,  127-130;  and  Gregory 
Sokolnikov,  262;  and  GPU,  227;  and 
Harpo  Marx,  300;  and  William  C.  Bul- 
litt,  303;  on  German  occupation  of  the 
Rhineland,  318-320;  aid  to  Loyalist 
Spain,  405,  440,  451;  Nyon  Conference, 
445;  loses  staff  in  purge,  495 

Liubchenko,  suicide,  498 

"Living  Church,"  63 

Livshitz,  434 

Lobachevsky,  Russian  mathematician,  341 

Locarno  Pact,  106 

Lockhart,  R.  H.  Bruce,  574;  British 
Agent,  149 

London,  zpitf,  3;  1921,  4,  5 

London  Times,  on  "England's  War 
Guilt,"  10;  on  Anglo-French  antago- 
nisms, 11;  on  faflure  of  Bolshevism,  12; 
on  reparations,  43 

Long,  Breckenridge,  275,  331 

Lossow,  General  von,  99 

Lothian,  Lord  (Philip  Kerr),  268;  in 
Moscow,  196;  for  German  rearmament, 
266,  267;  and  Spanish  civil  war,  586 

Loti,  Charles,  399 

Loyalists,  see  Spain 

LudendorfF,  General,  and  Kapp  Putsch, 
n;  appointment  of,  by  Hider,  09;  on 
Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  137 

Ludwig,  pseud,,  and  the  GPU,  508-5x0 

Ludwig,  Emil,  195 

Lukach,  General,  pseud.,  388 

Lukashevitch,  Polish  Ambassador  to 
U.S.S.R.,  303 

Lukyatov,  439 

Lunacharsky,  Anatole,  and  religion,  63 

Lushkov,  General,  flees,  499 

Luria,  Moses,  4x1 

Luther,  Chancellor,  Locarno  Pact,   106 

Lyons,  Eugene,  159,  334 

MacArthur,  General  Douglas,  286,  469 
McCabe,  Col.  E.  R.  Warner,  292 
MacClure,  Sir  William,  press  attache*  at 

British  Embassy,  275 
Macnamara,  467 

McConnell,  Bishop  Francis  J,,  472 
McCormick,   Anne    O'Hare,   at    Stalin 

interview,  89-91 
MacDonald,    Ramsay,    106,    331;    and 

British  general  strike,  84 
Machiavelli,  Niccolo,  The  Prince,  uz 
Mackenzie,  F.  A.,  54,  65 


INDEX 


MacLcish,  Archibald,  472,  629 

Madrid*  defense  of,  378-385,  393 

Maginot  Line,  317 

Magnes,  Dr.  Judah,  244 

Magruder,  Lieutenant-Colonel  John,  292 

Maisky,    Ivan,    Soviet    Ambassador    to 

Britain,    466,    590;   and    International 

Non-intervention  Committee,  370;  aid 

to  Loyalists,  467 
Malraux,    Andre,    195,    627;    fights    for 

Loyalists,  351,  352,  354,  384,  385;  in 

Geneva,  403;  in  New  York,  413;  on 

Nazi-Soviet  pact,  609 
Malraux,  Clara,  356,  357 
Mandel,   Georges,   French   Minister   of 

Colonies,  558,  560 
Mann,  Erika,  532;  interviews  Benes,  569, 

570 

Mann,  Klaus,  532 

Margesson,  David,  623 

Markoosha,  5,  6,  152,  159,  293;  describes 
Chicherin,  143;  on  Moscow  purges, 
410,  494,  495;  decides  to  leave  U.S.S.R., 
500,  586,  587 

Marshall,  Margaret,  305 

Martin,  Kingsley,  467,  618,  619 

Martinaud-Deplat,  M.,  614 

Marty,  Andre,  386,  388-390,  401,  594, 
608 

Marx,  Harpo,  in  U.S.S.R.,  300,  301 

Maryasin,  439 

Masaryk,  Thomas,  282 

Matthews,  Herbert  L.,  460;  in  Spain, 
550;  in  Rome,  631 

Matushevski,  Colonel,  291 

Maurer,  James,  at  Stalin  interview,  89-91 

Maurois,  Andr£,  626 

Maximov,  General,  at  the  Ebro,  543,  544 

Mdivani,  Budu,  439 

Mem  Kampf,  173 

Mcissner,  German  State  Secretary,  285 

Melchett,  Lord,  no 

Menorab  Journal,  70 

Menzhinsky,  225,  517 

Merriman,  Bob,  403 

Messersmith,  George,  280,  291 

Mezhlauk,  Valeri,  437 

Mgaloblishvili,  Hermann,  498 

Miaja,  GeneraX  593;  his  defense  of  Ma- 
drid, 376 

Middleton,  John,  secretary  of  British  La- 
bor party,  466,  622 

Mikhalsky,  see  Lapinsky 

Miller,  Douglas,  313 

Miller,  James  I.,  593 

Miller,  Webb,  615 

Mills,  Jim,  334 


Mironov,  Boris,  297,  405;  on  trial,  520 

Modesto,  Loyalist  Army  Commander, 
543 

Mola,  General,  324,  487 

Molotov,  Vyascheslav,  Soviet  Premier 
and  Foreign  Minister,  343,  505 

Monash,  General,  534 

Montagu,  Ivor,  and  the  Loyalists'  Thir- 
teen Points,  491,  492 

Montseny,  Federica,  417 

Moors,  in  Spanish  civil  war,  546,  547 

Morrison,  Herbert,  467,  622,  623 

Moscow  trials,  74;  confessions  at,  502- 
530 

Mowrer,  Edgar  A,,  159,  445,  468,  538 

Mowrer,  Richard,  532,  560 

Muirhead,  Lieutenant  Colonel,  484 

Munich,  1922,  conspiracies,  40;  Hitler's 
march  on,  100 

Mura  of  Moscow,  see  Countess  Budberg 

Muralov,  General,  78 

Muratori,  Mario,  on  size  of  German  air 
force,  567 

Mussolini,  Benito,  dealings  with  Austen 
Chamberlain,  109;  treaty  with  Pope 
Pius  XI,  115;  his  rise  to  power,  272; 
and  Austria,  280,  281 

Napoleon,  71;  and  Poland,  13 

Nation,  The,  articles  on  Russia,  60,  70; 

on  legal  justice  in  Germany,  100;  on 

the  Lateran  Treaty,  115 
Nationalism,  failure  of,  641-644 
Nazi-Soviet  pact,  604-610 
Nazis,  i $21-22,  39;  and  big  business,  171; 

their    differences    from    Communists, 

168,  169;  rise  to  power,  173;  tactics, 

J75 

Negrin,  Dr.  Juan,  416,  421,  457;  member 
of  Spanish  Cortes,  256-258;  Finance 
Minister,  353;  interview  with,  3<54-3<55> 
Prime  Minister,  415-417;  description  of, 
422;  in  Geneva,  449-451,  576;  appeals  to 
Leon  Blum,  477;  writes  Thirteen 
Points,  492;  refugee,  592;  and  jewels 
of  Spain,  596-598 

Nehru,  Jawaharlal,  537,  538 

Nepmen,  51,  52 

New  Deal,  73;  an  escape  from  conserva- 
tism, 647 

New  Economic  Policy,  (NEP),  5°-53i 
Trotzky's  opinions  on,  80 

New  York  Evening  Post,  assignment  on, 

*3 
New  York  Herald  Tribune,  on  World 

War  H,  636 
New  York  Times,  on  Anglo-French  an- 


668 


INDEX 


tagonisms,  n;  on  reparations,  104;  on 

World  War  II,  636 
New  York  World,  on  reparations,  104 
Nicolson,  Harold,  MJP.,  479;  for  change 

in  British  social  structure,  649 
Nikolaiev,  Kirov's  assassin,  229 
Nin,  Andres,  428 
Nitti,  ex-Premier  of  Italy,  463 
Noel-Baker,  Philip,  M.P.,  464,  466,  537 
Non-intervention  Committee,  358 
North,  Joe,  In  Spain,  541,  543,  547 
Nyon  Conference,  445,  446 

Oberammergau,  40 

O'Connell,  Cardinal,  on  Franco,  473 

O'Connell,  Jerry,  472 

Oil  Imperialism,  by  Louis  Fischer,  93, 

122-124 

Oldham,  Bishop  G.  Ashton,  537,  538 
Oliver,  Garcia,  417,  427 
Ordjonekidze,  on  Turkey,  135;  on  Persia, 

136 

Organization  Consul  (O.C),  40 
Orlov,  Admiral,  361,  383;  executed,  499 
Qsinsky,  V.  V^  77 
Osovsky,     expelled     from     Communist 

party,  83 
Ossorio  y  Gallardo,  Spanish  Ambassador, 

463 
Ostrovsky,  keeper  of  the  Moscow  Zoo, 

495,  499 
Otero,  450 

Ottwald,  Professor  Hans,  19,  20 
Oulianoff,  V.,  see  Lenin,  N. 
Oumansky,  Constantine   (Kostya),  209, 

262,  297,  585,  634,  635 
Oumansky,  Raya,  297 
Ovey,  Sir  Esmond,  296 
Ozerov,  Professor,  and  drinking,  64 

Pacelli,  Cardinal,  275 

Palestine,  Louis  Fischer  serves  in,  240- 

H3;  *934,  243-247,  250,  251 
Pan-Europa,  see  United  States  of  Europe 
Papen,    Baron   Franz   von,    n6;    takes 

office,  180;  his  aid  to  Hitler,  182 
Paris,  description,  269 
Paris  Metal  Workers'  Union,  477 
Parker,  Dorothy,  532 
Pascua,  Marcelino,  Loyalist  Ambassador 

in  Paris,  479 
Pasionaria,  at  Congress  for  Peace  and 

Freedom,  537,  538;  on  Negrin,  594 
Patterson,  Professor  Ernest  M.,  on  tariffs, 

105 
Paul,  Elliot,  532 


Paul-Boncour,  M.,  French  Foreign  Min- 
ister, 447,  463 
Peace  Ballot,  263 
Peake,  Charles,  615 

Perkins,  Thomas  N,,  on  reparations,  104 
Perse,  St.  Jean,  629 
Persia,    agreement   with    Soviet    Union, 

135,  13* 

Pertinax,  on  Bonnet,  572 
Pctain,  Marshal,  sympathy  for  Francisco 

Franco,  646 

Petrescu-Comncn,  Nicolas,  560 
Petrov,    Little    Golden    Calf,    302;    in 

U.  S.  A.,  397 
Petrovitch,  389 

Petrovsky,  President  of  Ukraine,  499 
Pettjt,  Walter,  132 
Philip,  P.  J.,  correspondent  of  New  York 

Times,  604 
Phillips,  William,  U.  S.  Ambassador  to 

Rome,  631 
Phipps,  Sir  Eric,  British  Ambassador  to 

France,  477 
Piatakov,  Yuri,  410,  433;  on  the  NEP, 

52;  on  Trotzky,  524 
Pilniak,  Boris,  334 

Pilsudski,  Marshal  Joseph,  285,  200;  takes 
Soviet  Ukraine,  13;  attack  on  U.S.S.R., 
13,  14 

Pitcairn,  Frank,  see  Claude  Cockburn 
Pletnev,  Professor,  500 
Podolsky,  Jacob,  233,  234 
Poincari,  Premier  Raymond,  on  German 
war  reparations,   10,  42,  43;  and  the 
Ruhr,  68 
Pokroysky,  Professor,  Brief  History  of 

Russia,  341 

Poland,  brief  history,  13;  population  in 

1918,  13;  economic  conditions  in  /^M, 

17;  and  the  Ruhr,  69;  /p^y,  289-292; 

anti-Semitism  in,  290;  diplomacy,  292 

Poleschuk  (Konar),  and  GPU,  227,  228 

Pollitt, Harry ,268,  379,  4<*7,  «'9»  &<H 

on  World  War  II,  617 
Poole,  De  Witt  Clinton,  149 
Pope  Pius  XI,  treaty  with  Mussolini,  115 
Popular  Front,  305-508;  in  Spain,  325 
POUM,  353,  428,  420 
Pravda,  anniversary  issue,  /PJW,  57,  58* 

'£??>  58;  on  drinking,  64 
Preger,  Count,  Bavarian  Ambassador  in 

Berlin,  37,  38 
Preobrazhensky,  77,  8i;  ABC  of  Com- 

nxunism,  62;  on  religion,  62 
Prieto,  Horatio,  interview  with,  370,  371 
Pneto,  Indalecio,  391,  392,  416,  4«,  454. 


INDEX 


669 


457;  foresees  defeat  of  Loyalists,  478; 

captures  jewels  of  Spain,  598 
Prince,  The,  by  Machiavelli,  112 
Pritt,  D.  N.,  264,  466 
Prohme,  Bill,  158 
Prohme,  Rayna,   journalist,    154;   death, 

156-158 

Puche,  Dr.  Jose\  and  jewels  of  Spain,  597 
Puente,  Senor,  and  jewels  of  Spain,  597 

Quakers,  the,  aid  to  Poland,  13;  relief 

work  of,  19 
Quintanilla,  Luis,  359 

Rabinovitch,  trial  of,  503 

Radek,  Karl,  55,  410,  433;  on  permanent 
revolution,  68;  on  China,  85,  86;  at 
Savinkov's  trial,  118;  Borodin  speaks 
of,  139,  140;  on  Stalin,  293,  294;  testi- 
mony at  trial,  505 

Rajchman,  Dr.  Ludwik,  261,  402 

Rakovsky,  Christian  G.,  95,  499;  and 
Soviet  foreign  policy,  127,  131-136; 
Litvinov  speaks  of,  130,  131;  on  world 
revolution,  309;  returns  to  Moscow, 
309;  on  trial,  511,  512;  testimony  at 
trial,  515;  on  Trotzky,  524 

Ransome,  Arthur,  66 

Rantzau,  see  Brockdorff-Rantzau 

Rapallo  Pact,  48 

Raskolnikov,  Feodor,  Soviet  Minister  to 
Bulgaria,  495 

Rathbone,  Eleanor,  467,  626 

Rathenau,  Emil,  father  of  Walter  Rathe- 
nau, 31 

Rathenau,  Walter,  assassination,  30-39; 
The  New  Society,  31;  Of  Coming 
Things,  31 

Red  Army,  officers'  titles,  345 

Regler,  Gustav,  383 

Rein,  Mark,  429 

Reissig,  Herman  F.,  472 

Renn,  Ludwig,  383,  385,  388 

Reparations,  10,  42,  43,  104,  105 

Reynaud,  Paul,  interview  with,  627,  628 

Rhondda,  Lady,  626 

Ribbentrop,  Joachim  von,  284,  572;  on 
German  occupation  of  the  Rhineland, 
318-320;  flies  to  Moscow,  604 

Rice,  Elmer,  196 

Ridz-Smigly,  Marshal,  290 

Riza  Khan,  136 

Roberts,  Wilfrid,  MP.,  464*  537*  ^26 

Robertson,  Sir  William,  534 

Robeson,  Paul,  466;  and  Soviet  Union, 
191,  192 


Robins,  Colonel  Raymond,  211 

Robles,  Professor  Jos6,  395;  disappear- 
ance of,  429 

Rogers,  Will,  190 

Rojo,  Loyalist  general,  592 

Rolland,  Remain,  195 

Romm,  Vladimir,  testimony  at  trial,  507; 
and  Trotzky,  510 

Roosevelt,  Eleanor,  472,  585 

Roosevelt,  Franklin  DM  73;  and  Loyalists, 
452;  "quarantine  the  aggressor"  policy, 
470,  471;  peace  appeal,  591 

Ropner,  Colonel,  MJP.,  483;  on  Spanish 
civil  war,  484 

Rosenberg,  Marcel,  262,  263,  319;  Soviet 
Ambassador  to  Spain,  361;  disappear- 
ance of,  437 

Rosenblatt,  Angel,  379 

Rosengoltz,  Soviet  Commissar  of  Foreign 
Trade,  409 

Rossoni,  Edmondo,  332;  Italian  Minister 
of  Agriculture,  275-278;  on  Ethiopian 
War,  276,  277 

Rote  Fahne,  170 

Rothstein,  Andrew,  130,  261 

Rothstein,  Feodor,  on  Persia,  136 

Rudd,  Waylin,  191 

Rudensky,  Ivan,  118 

Rudzutak,  Jan,  228,  438 

Ruehle,  Otto,  519 

Rukhimovitch,  Commissar  of  Defense  In- 
dustries, 499 

Rumania,  Viennese  intrigues,  20 

Runciman,  Lord,  and  Czechoslovakian 
crisis,  556 

Rushdi  Aras,  Tewfik,  Turkish  Ambassa- 
dor to  Britain,  294,  626 

Russia,  see  Soviet  Union 

Rykov,  Alexis,  499,  514;  anti-Stalin,  96, 
97;  biographical  notes  on,  528 

Said,  Boris,  122 

Samuel,  Maurice,  243 

Samuel,  Marcus,  480 

Sapronov,  77 

Sarabia,  Loyalist  general,  592 

Sarraut,  Albert,  French  representative  to 
Washington  disarmament  conference, 
ii 

Satz,  Natalie,  exiled,  499 

Savinkov,  Boris,  trial,  118-121 

Schacht,  Hjalmar,  285 

Schain,  Josephine,  472 

Scheffer,  Paul,  61;  pro-Soviet,  124,  125; 
editor  of  Berliner  Tageblatt,  125 

Scheidemann,  Philipp,  on  birth  of  Ger- 
man Republic,  24,  25 


670 


INDEX 


Schicklgruber,  see  Hitler 

Schildbach,  Gertrude,  510 

Schirach,  Baldur  von,  34 

Schleicher,  Kurt  von,  intrigues,  181;  his 

plan,  182,  183 
Scnlesinger,  M.,  123,  148 
Schley,  Reeve,  209,  212 
Schoch,  General  von,  32 
Schulz,  Erzberger  assassin,  n 
Schwarze  Korps,  on  Czechoslovakia,  558 
Sedov,  Leo,  Trotzky's  son,  507 
Seeckt,  General  von,  100 
Seldes,  George,  54,  59 
Semenov,  General,  452 
Serebyakov,  L.  P.,  410,  434 
Serebyakova,  Galina,  434 
Shakespeare,  G.  H.,  secretary  of  British 

Admiralty,  484 
Shakhti  trial,  503 
Sharangovich,  on  trial,  523 
Shatoff,  Bill,  334 
Shaw,     George    Bernard,     on    Walter 

Duranty,  155;  in  Moscow,  196-198 
Sheboldayev,  499 
Sheean,  Diana,  532,  626 
Sheean,  Vincent,  154,  532,  552,  600;  and 

Rayna  Prohme,  156-158 
Sheridan,  Claire,  129 
Sherover,  Miles,  472 
Shestov,  on  trial,  523 
Shipler,  Guy  Emery,  472 
Shostakovich,  Dmitri,  Soviet  composer, 

343 
Shulgin,  Vitali,  return  to  Soviet  Union, 

120,  121 

Siegfried  Line,  316 
Sigerist,  Dr.  Harry  M.,  195 
Simon,  Sir  John,  268,  331,  646 
Simonov,  see  Colonel  Valois 
Sinclair,  Harry  F.,  87 
Sinclair,  Sir  Archibald,  MJP.,  466,  626 
Sivikov,  Admiral,  executed,  499 
Skliansky,  78 
Skobelevsky,  502,  503 
Skvirsky,  Boris,  495 
Slater,  Hugh,  378 
Smidovitch,  64 
Smirnov,  G.,  437 
Smith,  Harrison,  211 
Smith,  Major  Truman,  292 
Smolar,  Boris,  286,  334 
Smoot,  Senator  Reed,  on  tariffs,  105 
Social  Democrats,  post-War  German,  30; 

and  Hindenburg,  172 
Socialist  party  of  Germany,  post-War 

role,  24-30 


Sokolnikov,  Gregory,  410,  434;  on  So- 
viet revenue,  52,  53;  anti-Stalin,  96,  97; 
and  Soviet  foreign  policy,  127,  128;  on 
Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  137;  and  Litvinov, 
262;  testimony  at  trial,  505;  on 
Troteky,  524 

Soong,  T.  V.,  452 

Sotelo,  Jose  Calvo,  Spanish  Right  leader, 
481 

Souvarine,  Boris,  on  Trotzky,  78 

Soviet  Communism:  A  New  Civilization, 
by  Beatrice  and  Sydney  Webb,  199 

Soviet  Russia,  see  Soviet  Union 

Soviet  Union,  famine  in,  12,  49;  World 
War  I  casualties,  12;  1922,  46,  47;  drink- 
ing habits  in,  64;  Brest-Litovsk  treaty, 
26;  and  British  general  strike,  84;  and 
China,  85,  138-140;  international  rela- 
tions of,  87;  internal  politics,  96;  post- 
revolutionary,  117-127;  oil  concessions 
in,  122;  foreign  policies,  127-152,  135, 
136,  297,  304,  305;  development  of, 
187-203;  relations  with  U.  S.  A.,  209- 
211,  299;  Jewish  people  in,  247-249; 
*93f>  293-298;  and  Nazi  Germany,  303, 
304;  civtt  liberties  in,  333-337;  constitu- 
tion of,  334-339;  nationalism  in,  340- 
342;  sex  and  marriage  in,  345-348;  aid 
to  Loyalists,  403,  483,  489;  purges  in, 
432-443,  499,  500;  and  Czechoslovakia!! 
crisis,  554,  556,  569-5711  Open  Letter 
on,  600-602;  Nazi-Soviet  pact,  604-610; 
unpopularity  of,  651 

Spain,  1934,  253-260;  before  the  battle, 
323-329;  Popular  Front  in,  325;  land- 
owners of,  326;  iptfj  351-385;  air  raid 
in,  399;  cabinet  of  7^57,  417;  to  get 
arms  via  China,  451,  452;  Loyalists  re- 
ceive aid  from  London,  463-468; 
Loyalist  atrocities,  355,  486-488;  Loyal- 
ist aims,  492;  fights  on,  1938,  577-583; 
jewels  of,  596-598;  Loyalists  defeated, 
592-595;  results  of  civil  war,  646 

Speers,  General,  M.P.,  466 

Spender,  Stephen,  467,  532 

Spengler,  Oswald,  Decline  of  the  West> 

Spewack,  Samuel,  59;  on  Genoa  Confer- 
ence, 122 

Stalin,  Joseph,  Lenin's  successor,  65;  vs, 
Leon  Trotzky,  74-06;  on  China,  85, 
86;  interview  with,  89-91;  description 
of,  oo,  91;  alliances  against,  96; 
Bukharin  on,  98;  on  world  revolution, 
127;  on  Soviet  foreign  policy,  127,  128; 
on  Bessarabia,  134,  135;  on  Turkey, 
135;  on  Persia,  136;  on  Germany's  en- 


INDEX 


671 


trance  into  League  of  Nations,  149; 
and  GPU,  222-239;  and  Yagoda,  225- 
229;  on  Kirov's  assassination,  229,  230; 
Russian  nationalism,  339-344;  and  Sho- 
stakovitch,  343;  his  wife's  death,  344; 
and  Moscow  trials,  521,  522;  technique 
with  enemies,  528;  Hitler  accomplice, 
650,  651 

Stashevsky,  Arthur,  422 

Steed,  Wickham,  on  Versailles  Treaty,  11 

Steffens,  Lincoln,  132 

Stein,  Boris,  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Italy, 
*75*  33i 

Stein,  Count  Hans  Wilhelm,  38 

Stetson,  John  W.,  U.  S.  Minister  in  War- 
saw, 289 

Stewart,  Donald  Ogden,  600 

Stimson,  Henry  L.,  472;  on  U.  S.  recog- 
nition of  U.S.S.R.,  213 

Stinnes,  Hugo,  27 

Stolberg,  Benjamin,  305,  519 

Stone,  William  T.,  471 

Stowe,  Leland,  320,  622 

Strachey,  Celia,  620 

Strachey,  John,  620;  on  Moscow  trials, 

75 

Strasser,  Gregor,  183 
Strauss,  George  Russell,  M.P.,  264,  466, 

537 

Strauss,  H.  G.a  484 
Streit,  Clarence  K.,  261 
Stresemann,  Gustav,  takes  office,  101;  and 

Locarno     Pact,     106;     lunches     with 

Briand,    108;    and    German    foreign 

policy,  113,  114 

Strong,  Anna  Louise,  157,  158,  210 
Sueter,    Sir    Murray   F.,    British    Rear 

Admiral,  484 
Summerskill,  Edith,  626 
Sun  Yat-sen,  Dr.,  85;  his  correspondence 

with  Karakhan,  137,  138 
Suritz,    Jacob,    Soviet    Ambassador    to 

Turkey,  197,  463;  Soviet  Ambassador 

to  France,  603-604 
Sweeny,  Colonel  Charles,  477,  604 
Sweetser,  Arthur,  604 
Swing,  Raymond  Gram,  575 
Swire,  reporter  for  Reuter's,  468 

Tabouis,  Madame  Genevieve,  463,  467 
Tarkhov,  Sergei,  408,  409 
Taj'ior,  Edmond,  604,  614 
Teagle,  Walter  C.,  122 
Techow,  Ernst  Werner,  Rathenau  assas- 
sin, 34,  35 
Techow,  Hans,  34 


Ten  Days  That  Shook  the  World,  by 
John  Reed,  banned,  152 

Teruel,  468 

Third  International,  see  Communist  In- 
ternational 

Thomas,  Albert,  535 

Thomas,  J.  H.,  and  British  general  strike, 
£4 

Thompson,  Dorothy,  journalist,  154,  157, 
47* 

Thompson,  W.  O.,  48 

Thyssen,  Fritz,  on  Hitler,  183 

Tikhmenev,  Minister  to  Denmark,  495. 

Tikhon,  Patriarch,  63 

Tillessen,  Karl,  Erzberger  assassin,  n;  ar- 
rest, 33 

Tirana,  Mr.,  261,  262 

Toledo,  fall  of,  359-369 

Toller,  Ernst,  532 

Tomsky,  54,  96,  97 

Trilesser,  98 

Troitzky,  439 

Trotzky,  Leon,  addresses  Communist  In- 
ternational, 56;  vs.  Joseph  Stalin,  74- 
96;  vs.  Voroshilov,  75;  description  of, 
76,  77;  at  Lenin's  death,  77;  writes 
*P*7>  78;  replaced  by  Frunze,  79;  and 
the  New  Economic  Policy,  80;  on 
the  Brest-Litovsk  treaty,  137;  and  Mos- 
cow trials,  504-507,  510,  519 

Troyanovsky,  Soviet  Ambassador  to 
U.  S.,  209,  412 

Tugwell,  Rexford  G.,  interviews  Stalin, 
89-90 

Tukhachevsky,  General  M.,  435,  436 

Turkey,  Vienna  intrigues,  21 

Uglanov,  97 

Ufrich,  Chief  Justice,  at  Savinkov's  trial, 

119,  120 

United  Kingdom,  see  Great  Britain 
United  States  of  Europe,  no;  a  realistic 

goal,  642 
Unschlicht,  438 
Uribe,  Luis,  416 

Uritzky,  interview  with,  405-407 
U.  S.  A.,  1923-1929,  73;  lecture  tours  in, 

204;  relations  with  U.S.S.R.,  209-211; 

recognition  of  U.S.S.R.,  299;  embargo 

on  Spain,  471,  472;  1941,  635-637;  force 

of  isolation  policy  by,  641;  role  in 

World  War  II,  652 
U.S.S.R.,  see  Soviet  Union 

Valladares,  Portela,  Prime  Minister  of 

Spain,  325,  488,  489 
Valois,  Colonel  (Simonov),  389 
Vandervelde,  and  Locarno  Pact,  106 


672 


INDEX 


Vansittart,  Sir  Robert,  625;  on  Hitler, 

267,  268;  at  Nyon  Conference,  444 
Vatican,  role  in  Ethiopian  War,  275 
Vavilov,  Professor,  accused  of  wrecking, 

499 

Vedensky,  63 

Vienna,  1922,  18-22;  cafe  life  in,  20;  cen- 
ter of  international  intrigues,  20,  21 

Villard,  Oswald  Garrison,  70 

Vilna,  battle  for,  14-17;  plebiscite,  14-17; 
boycott  of,  15 

Viollis,  Andre,  383 

Vishinsky,  Andre,  prosecutor  in  Moscow 
trials,  411,  504,514 

Vogel,  see  Fischer,  Hermann 

Vogel,  Lucien,  611 

Volscht,  Theodore,  502 

Voroshilov  vs.  Trotzky,  75;  on  Bessara- 
bian  question,  134 

Vorsc,  Mary  Heaton,  193 

Vornvaertz,  on  Jagow  sentence,  n 

Wallace,  Captain  Euan,  484 

Walsh,  Frank  P.,  472 

Warburg,  Paul  M.,  116 

Ward,  Harry  F.,  195 

Ward,  Irene,  M.P.,  467 

Warner,  Sylvia  Townsend,  532 

Washington,  D,  C,  /02/,  11 

Washington  Arms  Limitation  Confer- 
ence, ii 

Waterhouse,  Captain  G-,  British  Comp- 
troller of  the  Royal  Household,  484 

Watts,  Richard,  Jr.,  532 

Weaver,  Michael,  580 

Webb,  Beatrice,  in  U.S.S.R,,  198;  Soviet 
CoTnmunism:  A  New  Civilization,  199 

Webb,  Sydney,  in  U.S,S.RM  198;  Soviet 
C&mmunism:  A  New  Civilization,  199 

Weiss,  Dr.,  32;  his  search  for  criminals 
in  Rathenau  murder  case,  35-30 

Wells,  R  G.,  149 

Wells,  Lihton,  on  Lindbergh  in  Moscow, 
*9*»  193 

Werth,  Alexander,  and  Spanish  civil  war, 
538,  539 

Wertheim,  Barbara,  532 

Wertheim,  Maurice,  217,  218 

Weygand,  General,  aid  to  Pilsudski,  14 

Wheeler,  Senator  Burton  1C,  on  U.  S. 
recognition  of  U.S,S.R.,  211 

White,  William  Allen,  190 

Wilkinson,  Ellen,  M.PM  464,  467,  533, 
537.  538»  55 i,  588,  622 

Williams,  Albert  Rhys,  at  Savinkov's 
trial,  118 


Willys,  John  N.,  U.  S.  Ambassador  in 
Warsaw,  289 

Wilson,  Sir  Arnold,  576;  appeaser,  484, 
485 

Wilson,  Sir  Horace,  469 

Wilson,  Woodrow,  26;  sends  peace  mis- 
sion to  U.S.S.R.,  132 

Wilsonism,  107 

Winter,  Ella,  193 

Wintringham,  Tom,  379 

Wirth,  Chancellor  Joseph,  on  Versailles 
Treaty,  10 

Wolf,  Friedrich,  551 

Wolf,  Milt,  at  the  Ebro,  542 

Woll,  Matthew,  210 

Wood,  Junius,  journalist,  153 

Woodman,  Dorothy,  264,  319,  619 

Woollcott,  Alexander,  in  Moscow,  192 

World  War  I,  1918,  3;  casualties  in,  12 

World  War  II,  603-637;  possible  results 
of,  651 

Yagoda,  499;  relations  with  Stalin,  98, 

225-229;  on  trial,  516-518 
Yakovlev,  Commissar  of  Agriculture,  499 
Yakubovitch,  Soviet  Minister  to  Norway, 

495 

Yegorov,  General,  executed,  499 
Yenukidze,  54;  executed,  499 
Yevdoldm,  Archbishop,  63 
Yezhov,  chief  of  GPU,  584 
Yindrich,  Jan,  359,  360 
Young,  Owen  D.,  113 
Young  Plan,  113 

Yudenitch,  General,  White  Russian,  75 
Yurenev,  Soviet  Ambassador  to  Japan, 

495 

Zalke,  Mate,  see  General  Lukach 

Zeeland,  Van,  ex-Premier  of  Belgium,  615 

Zelensky,  on  trial,  522 

Zeligowski,  Colonel,  14 

Zemurray,  Samuel,  212 

Zhdanov,  505 

Ziffern,  Lester,  326 

Zilliachus,  Konni,  261,  262 

Zimand,  Savel,  54 

Zimbalist,  Efrem,  195 

Zinoviev,  54,  57,  411;  prepares  attack  on 
Trotzky,  77;  joins  Trotzky,  82;  anti- 
Stalin  alliances,  96-98 

Zionism,  242-247;  and  British  imperialism, 
246 

Zorin,  S.,  57 

Zubarev,  on  trial,  522 

Zugazagoitia,  416;  executed  by  Franco, 
479 

Zuckerman,  499 


J1 


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