russia in 1919(1919的俄国)-第9节
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likely that the Germans would take Petrograd。 He told me of a mass of
material they are publishing about the origin of the war。 He said that
England came out of it best of anybody； but that France and Russia
showed in a very bad light。
Just then； Demian Bledny rolled in； fatter than he used to be
（admirers from the country send him food） with a round face； shrewd
laughing eyes； and cynical mouth； a typical peasant； and the poet of the
revolution。 He was passably shaved； his little yellow moustache was
trimmed； he was wearing new leather breeches； and seemed altogether a
more prosperous poet than the untidy ruffian I first met about a year or
more ago before his satirical poems in Pravda and other revolutionary
papers had reached the heights of popularity to which they have since
attained。 In the old days before the revolution in Petrograd he used to
send his poems to the revolutionary papers。 A few were published and
scandalized the more austere and serious…minded revolutionaries； who
held a meeting to decide whether any more were to be printed。 Since the
revolution； he has rapidly come into his own； and is now a sort of licensed
jester； flagellating Communists and non…Communists alike。 Even in this
assembly he had about him a little of the manner of Robert Burns in
Edinburgh society。 He told me with expansive glee that they had printed
two hundred and fifty thousand of his last book； that the whole edition was
sold in two weeks； and that he had had his portrait painted by a real artist。
It is actually true that of his eighteen different works； only two are
obtainable today。
Madame Radek； who last year showed a genius for the making of
sandwiches with chopped leeks； and did good work for Russia as head of
the Committee for dealing with Russian war prisoners； came and sat down
beside me； and complained bitterly that the authorities wanted to turn her
out of the grand ducal apartments in the Kremlin and make them into a
historical museum to illustrate the manner of life of the Romanovs。 She
said she was sure that was simply an excuse and that the real reason was
that Madame Trotsky did not like her having a better furnished room than
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her own。 It seems that the Trotskys； when they moved into the Kremlin；
chose a lodging extremely modest in comparison with the gorgeous place
where I had found Madame Radek。
All this time the room was filling； as the party meeting ended and the
members of the Executive Committee came in to take their places。 I was
asking Litvinov whether he was going to speak； when a little hairy
energetic man came up and with great delight showed us the new matches
invented in the Soviet laboratories。 Russia is short of match…wood； and
without paraffin。 Besides which I think I am right in saying that the bulk
of the matches used in the north came from factories in Finland。 In these
new Bolshevik matches neither wood nor paraffin is used。 Waste paper
is a substitute for one； and the grease that is left after cleaning wool is a
substitute for the other。 The little man； Berg； secretary of the Presidium
of the Council of Public Economy； gave me a packet of his matches。
They are like the matches in a folding cover that used to be common in
Paris。 You break off a match before striking it。 They strike and burn
better than any matches I have ever bought in Russia； and I do not see why
they should not be made in England； where we have to import all the
materials of which ordinary matches are made。 I told Berg I should try to
patent them and so turn myself into a capitalist。 Another Communist；
who was listening； laughed； and said that most fortunes were founded in
just such a fraudulent way。
Then there was Steklov of the Izvestia； Madame Kollontai； and a
lot of other people whose names I do not remember。 Little Bucharin； the
editor of Pravda and one of the most interesting talkers in Moscow； who is
ready to discuss any philosophy you like； from Berkeley and Locke down
to Bergson and William James； trotted up and shook hands。 Suddenly a
most unexpected figure limped through the door。 This was the lame
Eliava of the Vologda Soviet； who came up in great surprise at seeing me
again； and reminded me how Radek and I； hungry from Moscow；
astonished the hotel of the Golden Anchor by eating fifteen eggs apiece；
when we came to Vologda last summer （I acted as translator during
Radek's conversations with the American Ambassador and Mr。 Lindley）。
Eliava is a fine； honest fellow； and had a very difficult time in Vologda
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where the large colony of foreign embassies and missions naturally
became the centre of disaffection in a district which at the time was full of
inflammable material。 I remember when we parted from him； Radek said
to me that he hardly thought he would see him alive again。 He told me
he had left Vologda some three months ago and was now going to
Turkestan。 He did not disguise the resentment he felt towards M。
Noulens （the French Ambassador） who； he thought； had stood in the way
of agreement last year； but said that he had nothing whatever to say
against Lindley。
At last there was a little stir in the raised presidium； and the meeting
began。 When I saw the lean； long…haired Avanesov take his place as
secretary； and Sverdlov； the president； lean forward a little； ring his bell；
and announce that the meeting was open and that 〃Comrade Chicherin has
the word；〃 I could hardly believe that I had been away six months。
Chicherin's speech took the form of a general report on the
international situation。 He spoke a little more clearly than he was used to
do； but even so I had to walk round to a place close under the tribune
before I could hear him。 He sketched the history of the various steps the
Soviet Government has taken in trying to secure peace； even including
such minor 〃peace offensives〃 as Litvinov's personal telegram to President
Wilson。 He then weighed； in no very hopeful spirit； the possibilities of
this last Note to all the Allies having any serious result。 He estimated the
opposing tendencies for and against war with Russia in each of the
principal countries concerned。 The growth of revolutionary feeling
abroad made imperialistic governments even more aggressive towards the
Workers' and Peasants' Republic than they would otherwise be。 It was
now making their intervention difficult； but no more。 It was impossible
to say that the collapse of Imperialism had gone so far that it had lost its
teeth。 Chicherin speaks as if he were a dead man or a ventriloquist's lay
figure。 And indeed he is half…dead。 He has never learnt the art of
releasing himself from drudgery by handing it over to his subordinates。
He is permanently tired out。 You feel it is almost cruel to say 〃Good
morning〃 to him when you meet him； because of the appeal to be left
alone that comes unconsciously into his eyes。 Partly in order to avoid
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people； partly because he is himself accustomed to work at night； his
section of the foreign office keeps extraordinary hours； is not to be found
till about five in the afternoon and works till four in the morning。 The
actual material of his report was interesting； but there was nothing in its
manner to rouse enthusiasm of any kind。 The audience listened with
attention； but only wo
