Reminiscences of Lenin

Clara Zetkin

FOREWORD

In this hour of grief, when all of us realize with the deepest personal sorrow that we have suffered an irreparable loss, there arises the luminous, living memory of one who revealed, in the great leader, the great man. The harmony of greatness, as leader and as man, was impressed on Lenin’s features, and “enshrined him forever in the great heart of the world proletariat,” that glorious destiny assigned by Marx to the fighters of the Commune. For the workers, those sacrificed to wealth who, like the Canadians in Seume’s poem, are unaware of “the surface civility of the old world” – we may add, the conventional lies and hypocrisies of the bourgeois world – distinguish with a fine and instinctive sensibility between the genuine and the false, between real greatness and overbearing conceit, between unselfish, fruitful love and the desire for popularity reflecting nothing but vanity.

I find it difficult to carry personal matters into public notice. But I feel it my duty to publish some extracts from the treasury of my personal recollections of our unforgettable leader and friend. Duty to him, who taught us, by theory and action, that the revolutionary will could consciously mold what was historically necessary and developed. Duty to those whom he loved and for whom he worked: the proletariat, the creators, the exploited, the oppressed of the world, for whose sufferings his heart was full of sympathy, and in whom he proudly recognized the revolutionary fighters, the builders of a higher order of society.

A PARTY MEETING

It was in the early autumn of 1920 that I first saw Lenin again after the outbreak of the Russian Revolution “that shook the world.” It was immediately after my arrival in Moscow, at a Party meeting in the Sverdlov Hall of the Kremlin, if I remember rightly. Lenin seemed to me unchanged, scarcely to have aged. I could swear that he wore the same neat, well-brushed coat in which I first saw him. It was in 1907 at the World Congress of the Second International at Stuttgart when Rosa Luxemburg, who possessed an artist’s eye for the characteristic, pointed Lenin out to me with the remark: “Take a good look at him. That is Lenin. Look at the self-willed, stubborn head. A real Russian peasant’s head with a few faintly Asiatic lines. That man will try to overturn mountains. Perhaps he will be crushed by them. But he will never yield.”

In attitude and appearance Lenin was just as before. The debate was at times lively, even stormy. As previously at the Second International Congresses, Lenin excelled in his attentive observation and following of the proceedings, in the great self-confident calm, his concentrated, as it were, internal participation, energy and flexibility.

That was shown by his occasional interruptions and remarks, and by his longer speeches when he addressed the meeting. His sharp glance, his clear mind, seemed to miss nothing that was worthy of notice. During the meeting – and ever after – I realized that the principal feature of Lenin’s nature was his simplicity and sincerity, the complete naturalness of his dealings with all comrades. I say “naturalness” for I had the strong impression that this man cannot give himself otherwise than as he is giving himself. The way he behaves to the comrades is the natural expression of his very nature.

Lenin was the undisputed leader of a Party which, clear as to its objective and the way to it, had led the Russian workers and peasants in the struggle for power; and which now, supported by their trust, was ruling by the dictatorship of the proletariat. So far as an individual can fill such a position, Lenin was the creator and leader of the great empire that had become the first Workers’ and Peasants’ State of the world. His thoughts and his will lived in millions, even outside Soviet Russia. For every important decision his views were authoritative, his name a symbol of hope and freedom wherever the exploited and oppressed dwell. “Comrade Lenin is leading us to Communism, we shall hold on, however difficult it may be,” declared the Russian workers who, with the vision of an ideal commonwealth for humanity before their eyes, starving and freezing, hurried to the fronts, or, under unspeakable difficulties, worked to reestablish industry. “Why should we fear that the masters will return and take away our fields? Little father Lenin will save us, and Trotsky with his Red Army.” So thought the peasants. “Evviva Lenin!” was inscribed on the walls of more than one church in Italy, expressing the enthusiastic admiration of some worker who, in the Russian Revolution, welcomed the blow struck for his freedom. In America, in Japan, and India, rebels against the enslaving power of the possessors gathered together under Lenin’s name.

How simple, how modest Lenin appeared, Lenin who could already look back upon a great historical work, and on whom lay a heavy burden of trusting faith, gravest responsibility and never-ending work! He lost himself in the rank and file of the comrades, was one with them, was one of many. By no gesture, no action, did he attempt to act as a “personality.” Such behavior was foreign to him, for he really was a personality. Couriers were continually coming in with reports from the various offices, from the civil and military bodies, reports which were often answered by a few hurriedly scribbled lines. Lenin had a friendly smile or nod for all, reflected always in a face beaming with joy. During the proceedings inconspicuous consultations with leading comrades frequently took place. During the intervals there was a veritable attack on Lenin. Men and women comrades from Moscow, Petersburg, from the most far-flung centers of the movement, and young people, many young people, surrounded him. “Vladimir Ilyitch, please...” “Comrade Lenin, don’t refuse... “We know, Ilyitch, that you... but...” So requests, questions, proposals, buzzed around him.

In listening and answering Lenin showed inexhaustible and calm patience. He had a ready ear and good advice for every Party question, as well as for personal sorrows. The manner in which he dealt with young people was particularly fine. In comradely fashion, free from any pedantic grown-uppishness, from any suggestion that age alone was an incomparable virtue, Lenin moved as an equal among equals, to whom he was bound by every fiber of his heart. There was not the faintest trace of a “master man” about him; his authority in the Party was that of an ideal father to whose superiority one submits in the consciousness that he understands and wishes to be understood. In this atmosphere surrounding Lenin I remembered, not without bitterness, the stiff, affected grandeur of the “Party father” of German Social-Democracy. And particularly the vulgar servility with which the Social-Democrat Ebert, as president of the bourgeois republic, sedulously studied the manner in which the upper ten “cough and spit,” a servility which had lost all pride in the historical importance of the proletariat and all human dignity. Admitted that these gentlemen were never so “foolish and daring as to wish to make a revolution” like Lenin. And under their care the capitalists in the one-time “nursery of the Roman Empire” can for the present sleep even more securely than in the time of Heinrich Heine under its three-and-thirty monarchs. Until finally the revolution shall rise out of the torrent of historical development and necessity, and society here, too, thunders with the cry: “Quos ego!”

LENIN ON CULTURE

My first visit to Lenin’s family strengthened the impression I had received at the Party conference, and which in frequent conversations with him since then, has been deepened. It is true that Lenin lived in the Kremlin, the former tsarist fortress, and that one had to pass many guards before reaching him – a regulation justified by the counter-revolutionary attempts on the leaders of the revolution which were still being made at that time.

Lenin also received visitors, when it was necessary, in the State apartment. But his private dwelling was of the utmost simplicity and unpretentiousness. I have been in more than one worker’s home furnished much more richly than that of the “all-powerful Muscovite dictator.” I found Lenin’s wife and sister at supper, which I was immediately and heartily asked to share. It was a simple meal, as the hard times demanded: tea, black bread, butter, cheese. Later the sister tried to find something “sweet” for the “guest of honor” and discovered a small jar of preserves. It was well known that the peasants provided “their Ilyitch” with gifts of white flour, bacon, eggs, fruit, etc.; but it was also well known that nothing remained in Lenin’s household. Everything found its way to the hospitals and children’s homes; Lenin’s family held strictly to the principle of not living better than the others, that is, than the working masses.

I had not seen Comrade Krupskaya, Lenin’s wife, since the International Socialist Women’s Conference at Berne in March, 1915. Her kind face with its warm, friendly eyes, bore ineradicable signs of the malignant disease which was eating her away. But apart from that, she, too, had remained the same, the embodiment of sincerity and modesty, of an almost Puritan simplicity. With her hair smoothly combed back and tied in an inartistic knot at the back, in her ill-fitting dress, one could have taken her for a flurried housewife whose only worry is to save time, to gain time. The “first lady of the Great Russian Empire” – according to bourgeois ideas and phraseology – is undoubtedly the first in willing forgetfulness of self, in sacrifices for the cause of the toilers and the oppressed. The closest community of ideas and work in life bound her to Lenin. Impossible to speak of him, without thinking of her. She was “Lenin’s right hand,” his first and best secretary, his most convinced comrade in thought, the most experienced exponent and agent of his views, as untiring in gaining friends and adherents for the master of genius with strength and wisdom, as in carrying on propaganda among the working class. Apart from that she had her own personal sphere of activity to which she devoted herself with her whole soul: the system of popular education and instruction.

It would be ridiculous, insulting to suppose that Comrade Krupskaya was in the Kremlin as “deputy for Lenin.” She worked and worried with him, for him, as she had done her whole life, even when exile and the bitterest persecution separated them. Her profoundly motherly nature made Lenin’s dwelling a “home” in the finest sense of the word, and in this she was lovingly supported by his sister. A home not in the sense of the German Philistines, but in the spiritual atmosphere with which it was filled and which was the result of the relationships uniting the living and moving human beings there. It was clear that in those relationships everything was determined by sincerity, by truth, understanding and nobility. Although at that time I was not well acquainted with Comrade Krupskaya personally, in her “kingdom” and under her friendly care I immediately felt at home. When Lenin came, and, somewhat later, a large cat appeared, gladly welcomed by the family, and sprang on the shoulder of the “terrorist leader,” finally settling itself comfortably on his lap, I could truly have wept to be at home or with Rosa Luxemburg and her cat “Mimi,” a historic personality among her friends.

Lenin found us three women discussing art and questions of education and instruction. I expressed my enthusiastic admiration of the titanic cultural work of the Bolsheviks, at the energy and activity of creative forces, which were opening up new channels for art and education. But I did not conceal my impression that there was a great deal that was uncertain, unclear, hesitating and experimental in evidence, and together with the passionate desire for a new content, new forms, new ways of cultural life there were many artificial, cultural fashions after the western model. Lenin immediately entered with great liveliness into the discussion.

“The awakening, the activity of forces which will create a new art and culture in Soviet Russia,” he said, “is good, very good. The stormy rate of this development is understandable and useful. We must and shall make up for what has been neglected for centuries. The chaotic ferment, the feverish search for new solutions and new watchwords, the ‘Hosanna’ for certain artistic and spiritual tendencies to-day, the ‘crucify them’ to-morrow! – all that is unavoidable.

“The revolution is liberating all the forces which have been held back, and is driving them up from the depths to the surface. Let us take an example. Think of the pressure exercised on the development of our painting, sculpture and architecture by the fashions and moods of the tsarist court, as well as by the taste, the fancies of the aristocrats and bourgeoisie. In a society based on private property the artist produces goods for the market, he needs buyers. Our revolution has lifted the pressure of this most prosaic state of affairs from the artists. It has made the Soviet State their protector and patron. Every artist, and everybody who wishes to, can claim the right to create freely according to his ideal, whether it turn out good or not. And so you have the ferment, the experiment, the chaos.

“But of course we are Communists. We must not put our hands in our pockets and let chaos ferment as it pleases. We must consciously try to guide this development, to form and determine its results. In that we are still lacking, greatly lacking. It seems to me that we too, have our Dr. Karlstadt. We are much too much ‘Iconoclasts.’ We must retain the beautiful, take it as an example, hold on to it, even though it is ‘old.’ Why turn away from real beauty, and discard it for good and all as a starting point for further development, just because it is ‘old’? Why worship the new as the god to be obeyed, just because it is ‘the new’? That is nonsense, sheer nonsense. There is a great deal of conventional art hypocrisy in it, too, and respect for the art fashions of the West. Of course, unconscious! We are good revolutionaries, but we feel obliged to point out that we stand at the ‘height of contemporary culture.’ I have the courage to show myself a ‘barbarian.’ I cannot value the works of expressionism, futurism, cubism, and other isms as the highest expressions of artistic genius. I don’t understand them. They give me no pleasure.”

I could not but admit that I, too, lacked the faculty of understanding that, to an enthusiastic soul, the artistic form of a nose should be a triangle, and that the revolutionary pressure of facts should change the human body into a formless sack placed on two stilts and with two five-pronged forks. Lenin laughed heartily. “Yes, dear Clara, we two are old. We must be satisfied with remaining young for a little longer in the revolution. We don’t understand the new art any more, we just limp behind it.”

“But,” Lenin continued, “our opinion on art is not important. Nor is it important what art gives to a few hundreds or even thousands of a population as great as ours. Art belongs to the people. It must have its deepest roots in the broad mass of workers. It must be understood and loved by them. It must be rooted in and grow with their feelings, thoughts and desires. It must arouse and develop the artist in them. Are we to give cake and sugar to a minority when the mass of workers and peasants still lack black bread? I mean that, not, as you might think, only in the literal sense of the word, but also figuratively. We must keep the workers and peasants always before our eyes. We must learn to reckon and to manage for them. Even in the sphere of art and culture.

“So that art may come to the people, and the people to art, we must first of all raise the general level of education and culture. And how is our country in that respect? You are amazed at the tremendous cultural work we have accomplished since the seizure of power. Without being boastful we can say that we have done much in this respect, very much. We have not only cut off heads, as the Mensheviks and their Kautskys in all countries accuse us of doing, we have also enlightened heads. Many heads. But ‘many’ only in comparison with the past and the sins of the ruling classes and cliques of those times. We are confronted with the gigantic needs of the workers and peasants for education and culture, needs awakened and stimulated by us. Not only in Petrograd and Moscow, in the industrial centers, but outside them, in the villages. And we are a poor nation, a mendicant nation, whether we like it or not, the majority of the old people remain culturally the victims, the disinherited. Of course we are carrying on a vigorous campaign against illiteracy. We are setting up libraries and ‘reading huts’ in the small towns and villages. We are organizing educational courses of the most varied nature. We arrange good theatrical productions and concerts, we send ‘educational tableaux’ and ‘traveling exhibitions’ over the country. But I repeat, what is all that to the many millions who lack the most elementary knowledge, the most primitive culture! While in Moscow to-day ten thousand – and perhaps to-morrow another ten thousand – are charmed by brilliant theatrical performances, millions are crying out to learn the art of spelling, of writing their names, of counting, are crying for culture, are anxious to learn, for they are beginning to understand that the universe is ruled by natural laws, and not by the ‘Heavenly Father’ and his witches and wizards.”

“Don’t complain so bitterly of the illiteracy, Comrade Lenin,” I interjected. “To a certain extent it really helped forward the revolution. It prevented the mind of the workers and peasants from being stopped up and corrupted with bourgeois ideas and conceptions. Your propaganda and agitation is falling on virgin soil. It is easier to sow and to reap where you have not first of all to uproot a whole forest.”

“Yes, that is true,” Lenin replied. “But only within certain limits, or, more correctly, for a certain period of our struggle. Illiteracy was compatible with the struggle for the seizure of power, with the necessity to destroy the old state apparatus. But do we destroy merely for destruction’s sake? We destroy in order to build better. Illiteracy is incompatible with the tasks of construction. As Marx said, it must be the task of the worker himself, and, I will add, of the peasant, to set himself free. Our Soviet society makes that possible. Thanks to it thousands of the working population, in the most varied Soviets and Soviet bodies, are now learning to work constructively. They are men and women ‘in the prime of life’ as they used to say in your circles. That means that most of them grew up under the old regime, that is, without education or culture. And now they are striving after them passionately. We are doing our very utmost to draw new men and women into Soviet work and in this way to instruct them practically and theoretically. The need for administrative and constructive forces cannot be disguised. We are compelled to employ bureaucrats of the old style, and we are getting a future bureaucracy. I hate it heartily. Not the individual bureaucrat, he may be a capable rascal. But I hate the system. It paralyzes and corrupts from above and below. And the most important weapon in overcoming and uprooting bureaucracy is the widest possible popular education and instruction.

“And what are our prospects for the future? We have established splendid institutions and taken really good steps to enable the proletarian and peasant youths to learn, to study, to gain culture, but here again the tormenting question arises: What is that among so many? Still worse! We have far too few Kindergartens, children’s homes and elementary schools. Millions of children are growing up without instruction, without education. They are growing up in the ignorance and lack of culture of their fathers and grandfathers. How much talent will be wasted, how many aspirations crushed! That is a cruel crime against the happiness of the growing generation and a robbery of the wealth of the Soviet state which is to develop into a Communist society. It is a grave danger for the future.”

In Lenin’s voice, usually calm, there was a growl of suppressed indignation. How deeply this matter must affect him, must obsess him, I thought, for him to make a speech to us three. Somebody – I cannot recollect who – made some remarks pleading “extenuating circumstances” for many of the characteristics present in art and cultural life, explaining them by the situation at the time. Lenin replied:

“I know! Many people are honestly convinced that the difficulties and dangers of the moment can be overcome by ‘bread and cheese.’ Bread – certainly! Circuses – all right! But we must not forget that the circus is not a great, true art, but a more or less pretty entertainment. Do not let us forget that our workers and peasants are no Roman mob. They are not maintained by the state, they maintain the state by their work. They ‘made’ the revolution and defended their work with unexampled sacrifices, with streams of blood. Our workers and peasants truly deserve more than circuses. They have the right to true, great art. So, before everything else, wide popular education and instruction. They are the cultural soil – assuming the bread assured – on which a truly new, great art will grow up, a Communist art, arranging its forms in accordance with its content. Our ‘intellectuals’ are faced with stupendous and most worthy tasks. To understand and fulfill those tasks would be a tribute to the proletarian revolution for opening wide to them, too, the door that leads to freedom, away from the wretched plight of their old conditions of life, characterized so incomparably in the 'Communist Manifesto’.”

'That night – it had grown late – we spoke of many things. But everything else has faded from my memory except Lenin’s remarks on art, culture, popular education and instruction. As, in the cool night, I walked to my home, I thought how sincerely, how warmly he loved the working people. And there are people who think this man a cold intellectual machine, a rigid fanatic, recognizing human beings only in their “historical categories,” counting them and playing with them, unfeelingly, as though they were skittles.

THE POLISH WAR

Another conversation with Lenin is engraved indelibly on my memory. Like so many who at that time came to Moscow from the West, I had to pay tribute to the change in my manner of life, and had to take to my bed. Lenin visited me. Anxiously, like the best of mothers, he inquired whether I was receiving proper care and nourishment, good medical attention, etc., and if I wanted anything. Behind him I saw Comrade Krupskaya’s kind face. Lenin doubted me when I said that everything was going well. He was particularly excited about the fact that I was living on the fourth floor of a Soviet house, which, it is true, has a lift theoretically, but one which does not, in practice, function. “Just like the desire and the will of the Kautskyians for revolution,” he remarked sarcastically. Soon the little vessel of conversation drifted into political channels.

The early frost of the Red Army’s retreat from Poland had blighted the growth of the revolutionary flower fostered in our thoughts when the Soviet troops, by a bold and rapid advance, had reached Warsaw. I described to Lenin how it had affected the revolutionary vanguard of the German working-class, and the Scheidemanns and Dittmanns, the bourgeoisie and the petty bourgeoisie, when the “comrades,” with the Soviet star on their caps, in impossibly old scraps of uniform and civilian clothes, in bast shoes or torn boots, spurred their small, brisk horses right up to the German frontier. “Will they or won’t they maintain the occupation of Poland and come over the border, and what then?” That was the question which at that time troubled all minds in Germany, and in answering which the bar-room tacticians debated fiercely and unceasingly. It was evident that in all classes, in all social strata, there was a much stronger chauvinist hatred of white-guard, imperialist Poland, than of France, the “hereditary enemy.” But still stronger than the chauvinist hatred of Poland and more compelling than the reverence for the sanctity of the Versailles Treaty was the fear of the prospect of revolution. In face of that danger voluble patriotism and gentle pacifism crept out of sight. Bourgeois and petty-bourgeois, with their reformist followers from the working class, observed the later development of affairs in Poland, half pleased, half afraid.

Lenin listened attentively to what I said on the matter and to my remarks on the position of the Communist Party and of the reformist party and trade union leaders individually. He sat silently for a few minutes, sunk in reflection. “Yes,” he said at last, “so it has happened in Poland, as perhaps it had to happen. You know of course all the circumstances which were at work; that our recklessly brave, confident vanguard had no reserves of troops or munitions, and never once got even enough dry bread to eat. They had to requisition bread and other essentials from the Polish peasants and middle classes. And in the Red Army the Poles saw enemies, not brothers and liberators. They felt, thought and acted not in a social, revolutionary way, but as nationalists, as imperialists. The revolution in Poland on which we counted did not take place. The workers and peasants, deceived by the adherents of Pilsudsky and Daszynsky,* defended their class enemy, let our brave Red soldiers starve, ambushed them and beat them to death.

“Our Budyenny is the most brilliant cavalry leader of the world. A young peasant – you know that? Like the soldiers in the French Revolutionary Army, he carried the marshal’s staff in his knapsack, only in his case it was the saddle pocket. He has no great knowledge of military science, but an excellent strategic instinct. He is courageous to foolhardiness, to an almost madly imprudent degree. He shares the greatest privations and the gravest dangers with his men, and they would allow themselves to be cut to pieces for him. He himself is as good as many squadrons. But all the excellencies of Budyenny and of other revolutionary army leaders could not make up for our deficiencies in military and technical affairs, still less for our political miscalculations – the hope of a revolution in Poland. Radek predicted how it would turn out. He warned us. I was very angry with him, and accused him of ‘defeatism.’ But he was right in his main contention. He knows affairs outside Russia, and particularly in the West, better than we do, and he is talented. He is very useful to us. We were reconciled a short while ago by a long political conversation over the telephone in the middle of the night, or rather towards morning.

"You know, that the conclusion of peace with Poland at first encountered strong resistance in the Party, like the Brest-Litovsk Peace. I was strongly attacked because I was in favor of accepting the peace terms, which are certainly favorable to the Poles and hard on us. Almost all our experts maintain that in view of the Polish situation, and particularly of the wretched financial position there, we could have got far more favorable terms had we held out a little longer. Even the possibility of complete victory for us was not excluded. Had the war continued, the national hostilities and conflicts in East Galicia and other parts of the country would have considerably weakened the forces of official, imperialist Poland. In spite of subsidies and credits from France, the growing burdens of war and the financial difficulties would finally have rallied the workers and peasants. Further circumstances were cited to show that we should have stood a better chance by continuing the war.”

"I myself believe” – Lenin after a short pause resumed the thread of his thoughts – “that our position did not force us to make peace at any price. We could have held out over the winter. But I thought it wiser, from a political standpoint, to come to terms with the enemy; and the temporary sacrifice of a hard peace appeared to me preferable to a continuation of the war. The pacifist catchwords of the Poles and their friends – all imperialists – are, of course, tricks, nothing but tricks. They are looking to Wrangel. But we shall use the peace with Poland to throw all our forces against Wrangel and to defeat him so completely that he will forever leave us in peace. In the present situation Soviet Russia can only win if it shows by its attitude that it carries on war only to defend itself, to protect the revolution: that it is the only great country of peace in the world; that it has no intention whatever to seize land, suppress nations, or enter upon an imperialist adventure. But, above all, ought we, unless absolutely and literally compelled, to have exposed the Russian people to the terror and suffering of another winter of war? Our heroic Red soldiers at the fronts, our workers and peasants, who have suffered and endured so much! Another winter of war, after the years of the imperialist war and of the civil war, when millions would starve, would freeze, and die, desperately silent. Food and clothes are already scarce. The workers are complaining, the peasants murmuring that we are only taking away from them and giving them nothing.... No; the thought of the agonies of another winter of war was unbearable. We had to make peace.”

While Lenin was speaking, his face shrunk before my eyes. Furrows, great and small, innumerable, engraved themselves deeply on it. And every furrow was drawn by a grave trouble or a gnawing pain. An expression of unspoken and unspeakable suffering was on his face. I was moved, shaken. In my mind I saw the picture of a crucified Christ of the medieval master Gruenwald. I believe that the painting is known by the title “The Man of Sorrows.” Gruenwald’s crucifixion bears no trace of resemblance to that of Guido Reni’s famous, sweet, forgiving martyr, the “soul’s bridegroom” of so many adoring old maids and unfortunately married women. Gruenwald’s Christ is the martyr, the tortured man, cruelly done to death, who “carries the sins of the world.” And as such a “man of sorrows” Lenin appeared to me, burdened, pierced, oppressed with all the pain and all the suffering of the Russian working people. He left soon after. Among other things he told me that ten thousand leather coats, buttoning up closely, had been ordered for the Red soldiers who were to attack Perekop from the sea. Even before these coats were ready we rejoiced at the report that the guardians of Soviet Russia, tired to death, had, under Comrade Pyatakov’s brilliant and bold leadership, won the isthmus. It was an unparalleled accomplishment on the part of leaders and led. On the southern front, too, there was no winter of war.

THE “GERMAN QUESTION”

The Third World Congress of our International and the Second International Conference of Communist Women was the occasion of my making a second and longer stay in Moscow. It was hot. Not so much because the congresses fell in the second half of June and the first half of July, when the sun blazes hotly down on the golden and beautifully colored domes of the town, as because of the atmosphere in the Parties of the Communist International. And in the German Communist Party particularly the air was charged with electricity; storms, thunder and lightning were daily occurrences at the meetings. Pessimists among us, who are only enthusiastic when they believe they can scent mischief, prophesied the disintegration, the end of the Party. The Communists organized in the Third International would have been bad internationalists indeed, if the passionate disagreements concerning theory and practice in the German Party had not also inflamed the minds of comrades in other countries. The “German question” was in reality a question and at that time the question of the Communist International itself.

The “March action”* and the so-called “theory of the offensive” which was at the bottom and could not be separated from it, although it was only first clearly and sharply formulated subsequently, in justification of the “March action,” compelled the whole Communist International to examine the world economic and political situation. It was necessary to establish a firm basis for their program and tactics, that is, for their immediate tasks, for the revolutionary mobilization and activization of the working masses.

* Rising of the German workers after the Kapp affair in March, 1920. – Ed.

I was among the sharpest critics of the “March action” in so far as it was not a struggle of the workers, but a falsely conceived, badly prepared, badly organized, and badly conducted Party action. I contested the theory of the offensive, produced with sighs and groans, most energetically. And in addition, I had a personal account to settle. The vacillating attitude of the German Party leaders towards the Italian Social Democratic Congress at Livorno and to the tactics of the Executive, had induced me to resign from the Center as a demonstration of protest. It worried me greatly that by this “breach of discipline” I would meet with strong opposition from those who were, politically and personally, the nearest to me, from my Russian friends.

In the Executive and in the Russian Party, as well as in many other sections of the Communist International, the “March action” had not less fanatical defenders, who celebrated it as a revolutionary mass struggle of hundreds of thousands actively resolute workers. The “theory of the offensive” was hailed as a new evangel of the revolution. I knew that great struggles awaited me and I was firmly decided to take them up and carry them through on the principles of Communist policy, whether they would bring victory or defeat.

What was Lenin’s opinion on all these problems? He who was capable as no other was, of putting Marxist revolutionary principles into action, and who knew how to conceive of men and affairs in their historical connections and to gauge the relation of forces? Did he adhere to the “left” or to the “right”? All who did not unconditionally welcome the “March action” and the “offensive theory” were labeled “right” and “opportunist.” I awaited an unambiguous answer to this question in trembling impatience. It would be decisive for the objects, the power of action, the very existence of the Communist International. Since I had left the Central Committee of the German Party the threads of my correspondence with Russian friends had been torn, and so I had only heard rumors and conjectures as to Lenin’s conception of the “March action” and the “offensive theory,” some doubtful, some emphatic. A long conversation with him a few days after my arrival gave me an unmistakable answer.

Lenin wanted first of all a report on the situation in Germany, in general and within the Party. I tried to give it to him with the greatest possible clarity and objectivity, citing facts and figures. Lenin now and again interjected questions to illuminate certain points, and made brief notes. I did not hide my opinion as to the dangers which threatened the German Party and the Communist International if the World Congress were to accept the basis of the “theory of the offensive.” Lenin smiled, his kind, self-confident smile.

“Since when have you joined the pessimists?” he asked. “Don’t worry, the plant of the theory of the offensive will not take root at the Congress. We are still here. Do you think that we could have ‘made’ the revolution without learning from it? And we want you to learn from it, too. Is it a theory anyway? Not at all, it is an illusion, it is romanticism, sheer romanticism. That is why it was manufactured in the ‘land of poets and thinkers,’ with the help of my dear Bela,* who also belongs to a poetically gifted nation and feels himself obliged to be always more left than the left. We must not versify and dream. We must observe the world economic and political situation soberly, quite soberly, if we wish to take up the struggle against the bourgeoisie and to triumph. And we shall triumph, we must triumph. The Congress decision on the tactics of the Communist International and on all the disputed points connected with it must be consistent with, and considered in conjunction with, our theses on the international economic situation. They must form a whole together. At the moment we still pay more attention to Marx than to Thalheimer and Bela, although Thalheimer is a good and well-informed theoretician and Bela an excellent and true revolutionary. More can be learnt from the Russian Revolution than from the German ‘March action.’ As I said, I am not afraid about the attitude that will be taken at the Congress.”

* Bela Kun, the Hungarian Communist leader. – Ed.

I interrupted Lenin: “The Congress has still to give its judgment of the ‘March action’ which is the fruit, the putting into practice, of the ‘theory of the offensive,’ its historical example. Can theory and practice be separated? And yet I know many comrades who reject the theory of the offensive and passionately defend the ‘March action.’ That seems to me illogical. Of course, we shall all turn in sincere sympathy to the workers who fought because they were provoked by Hörsing’s* barbarous crew, and wanted to defend their rights. We shall all declare ourselves solidly with them, whether they were hundreds of thousands as the imaginative would have us believe, or only a few thousand. But the attitude of our Center, on the principles and tactics of the affair, was and is quite another matter. It was and is a ‘putsch’-ist fall from grace and no theoretical, historical, or political soap will wash away the reality of that fact.”

* Leader of the reaction in central Germany. – Ed.

“Of course the defensive action of militant workers and the attack of the not well-advised Party, or rather of its leadership, will be diversely criticized,” Lenin said quickly and decisively. “You opponents of the ‘March action’ are yourselves to blame for not having done that. You only saw the distorted policy of the Center and its bad effects, and not the militant workers of central Germany. Moreover, Paul Levi’s entirely negative criticism, which lacked that ‘feeling of oneness’ with the Party, and embittered the comrades rather more by its tone than by its content, diverted attention from most important aspects of the problem. As far as the probable attitude of the Congress to the ‘March action’ is concerned, you must realize that it is essential to have a basis for compromise. Don’t look at me with such amazement, and reproach; you and your friends will have to swallow a compromise. You will have to be content with the lion’s share of the Congress spoils. The principles of your policy will triumph, triumph brilliantly. And that will prevent a repetition of the ‘March action.’ The decisions of the Congress must be strictly carried out. The Executive will see to that. I have no doubts on the matter.

“The Congress will utterly destroy the famous ‘theory of the offensive,’ will adopt the tactics which correspond to your ideas. But for that very reason it must also distribute some crumbs of consolation to the adherents of that theory. If, in criticizing the ‘March action’ we emphasize the fact that the workers fought under provocation from the lackeys of the bourgeoisie, and if, in general, we show a somewhat fatherly ‘historical’ leniency, that will be possible. You, Clara, will condemn that as hushing it up and so on. But that won’t help you. If the tactics to be decided upon by the Congress are agreed upon as quickly as possible, and with no great friction, becoming the guiding principle for the activity of the Communist Parties, our dear leftists will go back not too mortified and not too embittered. We must also – and indeed first and before all – consider the feelings of the real revolutionary workers both within and outside the Party. You once wrote to me that we Russians should learn to understand western psychology a little and not thrust our hard, rugged methods upon people all at once. I took notice of that.” Lenin smiled contentedly.

“Well, we shan’t deal roughly with the leftists, we shall put some balm on their wounds instead. Then they will soon be working happily and energetically with you in carrying out the policy of the Third Congress of our International. For that means rallying large sections of workers to your policy, mobilizing them under Communist leadership and bringing them into the struggle against the bourgeoisie and for the seizure of power.

“The basis of the tactics to be followed was clearly stated in the resolution which you placed before the Central Committee. The resolution was not in the least negative, like Paul Levi’s pamphlet; its criticism was positive throughout. How could it have been rejected, and after what discussion and on what grounds? And what an unpolitical attitude! Instead of using the difference between positive and negative to separate you from Levi, you were forced on to his side.”

I interrupted him: “Perhaps, dear Comrade Lenin, you think that you must give me, too, a few crumbs of consolation, because I’ve got to swallow the compromise. I can do it without consolation or balm.”

“No,” Lenin parried, “I don’t mean it so. And to prove that, I am going to give you a well-deserved thrashing. Tell me, how could you commit such a capital stupidity, yes, indeed, a capital stupidity, as to leave the Central Committee? Where was your understanding? I was angry about it, terribly angry. To act so senselessly, without regard to the effects of such a step and without letting us know anything at all about the matter or asking our opinion. Why didn’t you write to Zinoviev? Why not to me? You could at least have sent a telegram.”

I gave Lenin the reasons which had determined my decision, a decision formed suddenly in the situation obtaining at that time. He would not admit their validity.

“What?” he cried sharply, “you did not receive your mandate from the comrades at the Center, but from the Party as a whole! You should not have thrown away the trust reposed in you.” Since I was still impenitent, he continued to criticize sharply my exit from the Center and immediately added: “Can it be considered a well-earned punishment, that at the Women’s Conference yesterday there was a regularly organized attack upon you, as the embodiment of the worst sort of opportunism? Under the personal leadership of the good Reuten (Friesland) who, in doing that, participated for the first time, I think, in Communist work among women. That was simply stupid, quite stupid. To think that the ‘theory of the offensive’ could be saved by attacking you at the Women’s Conference! Of course there were other speculations and hopes at stake. I hope that you will take that episode, from the political point of view, quite cheerfully, although it leaves an unpleasant taste otherwise. But always look to the workers, to the masses, dear Clara. Think always of them and of the goal which we shall achieve, and such trivialities fade away into nothing. Which of us has been spared them? I have had to choke down my share of them, you can believe that. Do you think that the Bolshevik Party which you so admire, was ready and finished in one blow? Even friends have sometimes done most unwise things. But back to your sins. You must promise me never to take such unconsidered steps again, otherwise our friendship is at an end.”

After this interlude our conversation turned again to the principal question. Lenin explained the outlines of his ideas on the tactics of the Communist International, put forward by him later at the Congress in a comprehensive illuminating speech and which he defended in the earlier discussions at the Commission with a keen polemical brevity:

“The first wave of the world revolution has subsided. The second has not yet arisen,” he declared. “It would be dangerous for us to have any illusions about that. We are not Xerxes, who had the sea scourged with chains. But to determine and pay attention to the facts does not mean to be inactive, to give up the struggle. Not at all! Learn, learn, learn! Act, act, act! Be prepared, well and completely prepared, in order to be able to make full use, consciously and with all our forces, of the next revolutionary wave. That is our job. Untiring Party agitation and Party propaganda, culminating in Party action, but Party action free from the illusion that it can take the place of mass action. How did we Bolsheviks work among the masses, until we could say to ourselves: ‘We have come so far! Forward! Therefore – to the masses! Win the masses as a preliminary to winning power.’ Such an attitude on the part of the Congress will surely satisfy you ‘antis’.”

“And Paul Levi! What about him? What is the position of you and your friends? What will be the position of the Congress with regard to him?” This question had been on the tip of my tongue for a long time.

“Paul Levi,” Lenin answered. “Unfortunately that has become a case in itself. The reason for that lies principally in Paul himself. He has isolated himself from us and run obstinately into a blind alley. You must have become aware of that in your work of propaganda among the delegations. There is no need to try and convince me. You know how highly I value Paul Levi and his capacity. I got to know him in Switzerland and placed great hopes in him. He proved true in the times of worst persecution, was brave, clever, unselfish. I believed that he was firmly bound to the proletariat, although I was aware of a certain coolness in his attitude to the workers. Something of a ‘please keep your distance.’ Since the appearance of his pamphlet I have had doubts about him. I am afraid that there is a strong inclination towards solitariness and self-sufficiency in him, and something of literary vanity. Ruthless criticism of the ‘March action’ was necessary. But what did Paul Levi give? He tore the Party to pieces. He did not criticize, but was one-sided, exaggerated, even malicious; he gave nothing to which the Party could usefully turn. He lacks the spirit of solidarity with the Party. And it is that which has made the rank and file comrades so angry, and made them deaf and blind to the great deal of truth in Levi’s criticism, particularly to his correct political principles. And so a feeling arose – it also extended to non-German comrades – in which the dispute concerning the pamphlet, and concerning Levi himself, became the sole subject of this contention, instead of the false theory and bad practice of the ‘offensive theory’ and the ‘leftists:’ They have to thank Paul Levi that up to the present they have come out so well, much too well. Paul Levi is his own worst enemy.”

I had to admit the truth of the last remark, but I hotly contested Lenin’s other remarks. “Paul Levi is not a vain, complacent litterateur,” I said. “He isn’t an ambitious political climber. It was his fate and not his desire to become the leader of the Party so young. After the murder of Rosa, Karl and Leo* he had to take over the leadership; he has regretted it often enough. That is a fact. Even if he is not very warm in his dealings with our comrades, but rather a recluse, I am still convinced that every fiber of his being is at one with the Party, with the workers. The unfortunate ‘March action’ shook him to the depths. He firmly believed that the very existence of the Party was frivolously laid at stake and everything for which Karl, Rosa, Leo, and so many others gave their lives, squandered away. He cried, literally cried with pain at the thought that the Party was lost, He thought that it could only be saved by using the sharpest methods. He wrote his pamphlet in the spirit of the legendary Roman who willingly threw himself into the yawning abyss to save the fatherland by the sacrifice of his life. Paul Levi’s intentions were the purest, the most unselfish.”

“I won’t argue with you about that,” Lenin replied. “You are a better advocate for Levi than he is for himself. But you surely know that in politics we are not concerned with intentions, but with effects. Haven’t you a saying which runs ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’? The Congress will condemn Paul Levi, will be hard on him. That is unavoidable. But his condemnation will be only on account of breach of discipline, not of his basic political principles. How could that be possible at the very moment when those principles will be recognized as correct? The way is open for Paul Levi to find his way back to us, if he himself does not block the road. His political future lies in his own hands. He must obey the decision of the Congress as a disciplined Communist, and disappear for a time from political life. That will be extremely bitter to him. I sympathize with him and am truly sorry about it. You may believe that. But I cannot save him this period of heavy trial.

“Paul must accept it as we Russians accepted exile and prison under tsarism. It can be a period for diligent study and calm self-understanding. He is still young in years and young in the Party. His theoretical knowledge is full of gaps, he is still in the elementary stage of the study of Marxian economics. He will come back to us with deeper knowledge, firm in his principles and as a better, wiser Party leader. We must not lose Levi. For his own sake and for our cause. We are not over-blessed with talent and must keep as much of what we have we can. And if your opinion of Paul is correct, a complete separation from the revolutionary vanguard of the workers would be an incurable wound for him. Speak to him in a friendly way; help him to see the matter as it appears from the general standpoint and not from his personal viewpoint of ‘being right’. I will help you in this. If Levi submits to discipline, bears himself well – he can, for example, write anonymously in the Party press, or write some pamphlets – then in three or four months’ time I shall demand his readmission in an open letter. He has his trial by fire before him. Let us hope that he will survive it.”

I sighed. The cold sensation crept over me that I was up against the inevitable, whose consequences would not be foreseen. “Dear Lenin,” I said, “do what you can. You Russians are ready to fight. And you are always ready to be friends. I know from the history of your Party that among you curses and blessings come and go like the transient winds over the steppes. We ‘Westerners’ are cold-blooded. We are burdened with that historical Alp of which Marx spoke. I beg you again, earnestly, do what you can to keep Paul Levi among us.”

Lenin answered: “Don’t worry. I shall keep the promise I made you. If only Paul himself stands firm.”

Lenin seized his cap, that plain, well-worn peaked cap, and went away with calm, vigorous steps.

The “opportunists” in the German delegation – Comrades Malzahn, Neumann, Franken and Müller – were very anxious to meet Lenin, to discuss their opinions as to the character and the consequences of the “March action.” Comrade Franken was from a Rhine district, the other three came as trade unionists. They attached great importance to giving the acknowledged leader of the Communist International an account of the attitude taken by large sections of class conscious, keenly revolutionary workers, and to expressing their own opinion on the “theory of the offensive” and the tactics which they considered necessary. They were also naturally anxious to hear Lenin’s views on these questions. Lenin thought it “a matter of course” to accede to the request of the comrades. The day and hour was arranged when they should meet together at my place. The German comrades came some time before him, because we had to come to an agreement on how to take part in the Congress debates.

Lenin was always punctual. Almost to the minute he entered the room, simply, as was his habit, scarcely noticed by the other comrades who were deep in discussion. “Good day, comrades.” He shook hands with them and took his place among them so as to take part in the discussion at once. I was quite at ease, and took it to be the most natural thing in the world that every comrade should know Lenin. So it did not occur to me to introduce him to the comrades. After about ten minutes of general conversation, one of them drew me aside and asked softly: “Tell me, comrade Clara, who is that comrade?” “What? didn’t you recognize him?” I replied. “That is Comrade Lenin.”

“You don’t mean it?” exclaimed my friend. “I thought that, like some great man, he would keep us waiting till we were stiff. The simplest comrade could not be more simple and genial. You should see how our ex-comrade Hermann Müller solemnly walks about the Reichstag in his tail-coat, since he has been a Chancellor.”

It seemed to me that the “opposition” comrades and Lenin were undergoing mutual examination. Lenin was more concerned to listen, to compare, establish, and inform himself than to “speak like an editorial,” although he did not hide his own opinion. He asked questions continually, and followed the remarks of the comrades with the utmost interest, often asking for explanations or supplementary information. He strongly emphasized the significance of planned, organized work among the masses and the necessity for centralization and strict discipline. Lenin told me afterwards that the meeting had given him great pleasure. “Splendid fellows, these German workers of the type of Malzahn and his friends. I admit that perhaps they would never carry off the prize at a talking competition. I don’t know whether they would do as shock troops. But I am quite sure of this, that people like them are the steady, well-organized, fighting rank and file of the revolutionary proletariat, that they are the basis and mainstay in the factories and trade unions. We must rally such elements and make them active. They bind us to the masses.”

An unpolitical parenthesis. When Lenin visited me everybody in the house made high holiday – from the Red soldiers who kept watch at the door to the young kitchen girl, not to speak of the delegates from the Near and Far East who were being put up at the very spacious villa where I was living, once the property of a wealthy manufacturer, but since the revolution that of the Moscow Commune. “Vladimir Ilyitch has come!” The news flew from person to person. Everybody was on the look-out, gathered into the large hall or by the house door, to greet Lenin and nod to him. Their faces expressed the keenest joy when he went over to them, greeted them with his warm smile, speaking a few words to one or the other. Not a trace of humility, let alone servility on the one side, not a taint of condescension or affectation on the other. Red soldiers and workers, employees and Congress delegates from Dagestan, Persia and the “Turkestaners,” grown so famous because of Paul Levi, in costumes which seemed to have come out of fairy tales; they all loved Lenin as one of themselves, and he felt himself as one of them. They were all one in the feeling of warmest brotherhood.

The theoreticians of the offensive had not won any success in the debates on Trotsky’s incisive and brilliant report on “The Economic Situation and the New Tasks of the Communist International,” nor in the Commission discussions on the Plenum. But they still hoped to win victory for their ideas by amendments and additions to the thesis on the “Tactics of the Communist International.” The proposals were put forward by the German, Austrian and Italian delegations. Comrade Terracini defended them, there was passionate agitation for their acceptance. What would be the decision? An atmosphere of the greatest tension filled the high, spacious Kremlin Hall where the flaming red of the Communist People’s House outshines the sparkle of the coldly ostentatious gold in the one-time Imperial Palace. Every nerve strained in attention, the hundreds of delegates, the closely packed listeners, follow the proceedings.

Lenin gets up to speak. The speech is a masterpiece of eloquence. No trace of rhetoric. Only the weight of clear thought working, the inexorable logic of argument, the consistent, firmly-held line. Like unhewn blocks of granite the sentences are thrown out and fused into a unified whole. Lenin does not want to dazzle, to enchant; he wants to convince. He convinces and enchants. Not by beautiful, sonorous words which intoxicate, but by the luminous spirit which, without self-deception, comprehends the world of social phenomena in its reality and which, with cruel truthfulness, “speaks out” what is. Like lashes of a whip, like blows of a club, Lenin’s words fell on those “who make a sport of hunting the ‘right’,” and do not understand what will lead us to victory. “Only if in the struggle we get on our side the majority of the working class, and not the majority of the workers alone, but the majority of the exploited and oppressed, only then shall we really triumph.” Every one feels that the decisive blow has been struck. When I shook Lenin’s hand in enthusiasm, I could not refrain from saying: “Do you know, Lenin, that a speaker at a meeting in the most out of the way place would be shy of speaking as simply, as plainly, as you do? He would be afraid of not being ‘educated’ enough. I know only one counterpart to your way of speaking. It is Tolstoy’s great art. Like him, you have the broad, unified, firm line, the sense of inexorable truth. That is beauty. Perhaps it is a peculiarly Slav characteristic?”

“I don’t know,” Lenin replied. “I only know that when I ‘became a speaker’ I always thought of the workers and peasants rather than of my audience. Wherever a Communist speaks he must think of the masses, must speak for them. But it’s good that nobody heard your national psychological hypothesis, or they might say: ‘Look, look, the old man lets himself get caught by compliments.’ We must be careful so that nobody may suspect that the two old people are hatching a plot against the ‘left.’ Of course, there are no intrigues on the ‘left’,” – and laughing heartily Lenin left the hall and went to his work.

On the day of my departure Lenin came to take leave of me, and to give me some “good lessons” which, in his opinion, I “sadly needed.”

“Of course, you’re not completely satisfied with the result of the Congress,” he said. “You don’t make a secret of the fact that you find it illogical of the Congress to advocate the principles and tactics which Paul Levi followed and to exclude him in spite of that. There had to be correction. I am thinking not only of Levi’s mistakes, which I spoke of before. I am thinking particularly of how difficult he has made it for us to carry through the tactics of winning the masses. He must recognize and admit his mistakes so as to learn from them; then with his political ability he will soon lead the Party again.”

“I believe,” I answered, “that there is some way by which Paul could submit to the discipline of the Communist International without in any way renouncing his personal opinion. He could resign his candidature for the Reichstag and begin the publication of a journal with a number in which he considers the work of our Third World Congress from a historical standpoint, quite objectively. That, of course, would not exclude, but include criticism of that work. Also a declaration that he certainly believes the decision of the Congress against him to be wrong and illogical, but nevertheless, overlooking that, he will submit to it for the sake of the movement. Paul Levi could not lose, but gain, as a politician and a man by such a brave act of self-mastery. He would disprove the dirty suspicions of his opponents, and show that Communism comes first with him.”

“That is an excellent suggestion,” Lenin said. “But will it be followed? Anyhow, I hope that your warm-hearted optimism in judging Levi will prove right, and not the pessimism of many others. I promise you again to write an open letter for Levi’s readmittance into the Party if he himself does not make that impossible. But the main thing! Taken as a whole, the decisions of our Third Congress are very satisfactory. They have far-reaching historical importance and really mark a ‘turning point’ in the Communist International. They indicate the end of the first period of its development towards revolutionary mass parties. That is why the Congress had to make a clean sweep with the ‘left’ illusions that the world revolution will continue at its early stormy speed, that we shall be carried forward by a second revolutionary wave and that it depends solely on the Party and its actions to bring victory to our cause. Of course, it is easy to ‘make’ the revolution the ‘glorious act of the Party alone,’ without the masses, on paper and in the Congress hall, in an atmosphere free from objective conditions. But that is not a revolutionary, but an entirely Philistine conception. ‘Left stupidities’ found their concrete and clear expression in the German ‘March action’ and ‘theory of the offensive.’ And so they had to be liquidated at your expense, you were the victim. But in reality, the settlement was international.

“And now you in Germany must carry out the tactics decided upon as a united, strict Party. The so-called ‘Treaty of Peace’ among you which we have put together is by itself alone no guarantee of that. It is nothing in itself, if it is not supported by the good and honest will of ‘right’ and ‘left’ to act as a Party on a clear, definite political policy. And so in spite of your disinclination and your resistance you must return to the Center. And you must not leave it again even though it may seem to you personally that it is your right, and even your duty to do so. You have no other right but to serve the Party, and so serve the workers, in grave times. Your duty now is to keep the Party together. I make you personally responsible for seeing that there is no split, or at the most, only a small splitting off. You must be strict with the young comrades who are still without any deep theoretical knowledge or practical experience, and at the same time you must be very patient with them. And I ask you particularly to take care of Comrade Reuten (Friesland). He has worked very well and very eagerly with us for several years. As leader of the Berlin ‘Radicals,’ he must be at the Center. That alone will insure better relations between them and the Center. If I know Reuten, he will feel himself obliged by the ‘Treaty of Peace’ to work together in comradely fashion even with the so-called right. During the Congress I noticed a certain obstinacy and narrowness in him, which does not do for leadership, and if it ever comes to slipping and shaking there is usually no stopping it.”

Here I interrupted Lenin’s “good lessons” with the astonished question: “Have you any suspicions about it?”

My teacher smiled: “No, only experience.” Then he continued: “It is particularly important for you to help capable comrades in our ranks who have already won their spurs in the working-class movement. I am thinking of comrades like Adolf Hofmann, Fritz Geyn, Däuming, Fries and others. You must have patience with them, too, and not imagine that the ‘purity of Communism’ is endangered and lost if occasionally they lack the clear, sharp formulation of Communist thought. These comrades are really anxious to be good Communists, and you must help them to become Communists. Of course, you must not make any concessions to survivals of reformist thought. Reformism must not be smuggled in under any false colors whatsoever. But you must put comrades of this kind in positions where they cannot speak and act otherwise than as Communists. Perhaps, and indeed in all probability, you will be disappointed in spite of that. If you lose a comrade who has a ‘relapse’ you can still, with firm and wise management, keep two, three, ten comrades who have gone along with you and become real Communists. Comrades like Adolf Hofmann, Däuming, etc., bring experience and great knowledge to the Party, and they are above all, living ties between you and the working masses whose confidence they possess. It is the masses who must be considered. We must not frighten them either by ‘left’ stupidities or by ‘right’ timidities. And we shall win the masses, if, in small things and great things, we act always as consistent Communists. You in Germany must now take your examination in the tactics of winning the masses. Don’t disappoint us by making a beginning with – splitting the Party. Think always of the masses, Clara, and you will come to the revolution as we came to it: with the masses, through the masses.”

THE FOURTH WORLD CONGRESS

I was twice in Moscow after this farewell conversation, when my stay there was darkly overshadowed by the fact that I could not speak to, could not see Lenin. Heavy suffering had shattered his great strength, his power of resistance. But in spite of the gloomiest rumors and prophecies, he grew better. When, at the end of October, 1922, I came to the Fourth World Congress of the Communist International, I knew that I should see Lenin again. He was so much better that he was to give a report on “Five Years of the Russian Revolution and the Prospects of World Revolution.” Could there be a finer celebration of the Russian revolution than that its leader and genius, restored to health, should speak of it before the representatives of the revolutionary proletarian vanguard?

The second day after my arrival the comrade who attended to the house and who had openly gone over from the old to the new regime came to me in great excitement: “Comrade, Vladimir Ilyitch is coming to visit you. That is, of course, Lord Lenin. He will soon be here.” The news agitated me so greatly that for the moment the humor of “Lord Lenin” completely escaped me. He was already there, Vladimir Ilyitch, in a gray pilot jacket, looking fresh and strong as he did before the evil days of illness.

“Don’t worry,” he replied to my inquiries after his health, “I feel quite well, quite strong. I have even become ‘reasonable,’ or what the doctors call such. I work, but spare myself, and strictly follow the advice of the doctors. Many thanks, but I don’t want to be ill again! It’s a dreadful thing. There is so much to do, and Nadezhda Konstantinova and Maria Ilyinishna* must not have all the worry and trouble again.... And world affairs have gone on without me, in Russia and elsewhere. The leading comrades in our Party have worked well, very well together, and that is the chief thing. But they all had too much to do, and I am glad to be able to lighten their burden.”

Comrade Lenin, as he always did when he met me, asked warmly after my sons and asked me for a report on Germany and the German Party. I gave it shortly, so as not to tire him. It seemed to carry on from our conversation during the Third Congress of the International. He railed at me on my “psychology of kindness” in “the Levi case!”

“Less psychology, and more politics,” he said. “And you showed in the disputes with Levi concerning Rosa’s attitude to the Russian Revolution that you know that too. Due correction at your hands was well deserved. Levi has finished himself for us more quickly and more decisively, than his worst enemy could have done for him. He can no longer be dangerous to us. For us he is only one of the Social Democracy, nothing more. And he can be nothing more for us, even if he were to obtain a certain standing there. That is not difficult in the decaying state of that Party. But for a close comrade and friend of Karl and Rosa, it is the most disgraceful end that can be imagined, yes, the most disgraceful end. That is why his desertion and treachery could not and did not seriously shake or endanger the Communist Party. A few convulsions in small sections and a few persons breaking away. The Party is sound, sound at its roots. It is on the right road to becoming a mass Party, the leading revolutionary mass party of the German proletariat.”... After a short pause Lenin asked: “And what about your opposition? Have they learned at last to deal with politics, Communist politics?”

I gave an account of the state of affairs, finishing it with the statement that the “Berlin Opposition” had assigned to the Fourth International Congress the task of revising the position of its predecessor and annulling it. Their slogan was “Back to the Second Congress.”

Lenin was amused at this “unexampled naïveté,” as he called it. “The ‘left’ comrades really think that the Communist International is a faithful Penelope,” he laughed. “But our International does not weave during the day in order to undo its work during the night. It cannot afford the luxury of taking a step forward and then taking one back. Can’t those comrades see what is happening? What has changed in the world situation to make the winning of the masses no longer our foremost task? Such ‘leftists’ are like the Bourbons. They have learned nothing and forgotten nothing. As far as I can see, there is behind the ‘left’ criticism of the mistakes in carrying out the united front tactics, the desire to do away with those tactics altogether. This congress must not rescind, but confirm and emphasize, strongly emphasize, the decisions of the Third Congress. They are an advance on the work of the Second Congress. We must build further upon them, otherwise we shall not become mass Parties, leading revolutionary class Parties of the proletariat. Do we want the seizure of power, the dictatorship of the workers, the revolution, – yes, or no? If yes, then now as before, there is no other way than that indicated by the Third Congress.”

At a later meeting during the Congress Lenin returned to his remarks on the “left opposition” in Germany. He had in the meantime taken part in a meeting of the German delegation, at which Comrades König and Fischer had put forward their ideas, as exponents and leaders of the “left,” in opposition to those of the Center and to the Party majority. These ideas were extraordinarily feeble politically, and were, moreover, put forward in a surprisingly gentle and mild manner; while the behavior of the “left opposition,” even at the Congress Plenum, was overwhelmingly “moderate” compared with their wild and overbearing behavior in Germany. His head slightly bent and resting on his hand, Lenin listened to the proceedings. He did not take part in the discussion, but once or twice murmured remarks on the statements of the opposition, which expressed nothing but sympathy and agreement. What impression had the meeting made on him? Encountering him by chance, I asked him about it.

Lenin replied, shaking his head: “H’m! H’m! I can well understand that in such a situation there should be a ‘left opposition.’ There are, of course, still some C.L.P.* elements left, discontented, suffering workers who feel revolutionary, but are politically raw and confused. Things move forward so slowly. World history does not seem to hurry, but the discontented workers think that your Party leaders don’t want it to hurry. They make them responsible for the rate of the world revolution, cavil and curse. I understand all that. But what I don’t understand is a leadership of the ‘left opposition’ such as I listened to.”

* Communist Labor Party, a small ultra-left Party. – Ed.

* Ruth Fischer. – Ed.

But to return to Lenin’s visit.

Lenin expressed his satisfaction with the sure, though still slow, revival of economic life in Soviet Russia. He cited facts and figures which indicated progress. “But I shall speak about that in my report,” he interrupted his train of thought. “The time allowed me for visiting by my medical tyrants is up. You see how disciplined I am. But I must tell you something which will please you greatly, I know. I got a letter a short while ago from the remote little village of ____ (unfortunately I have forgotten the difficult name. – C.Z.). There are a few hundred children in a home there and they write to me: ‘Dear little grandfather Lenin, We want to tell you that we have become very good. We study diligently. We already read and write well. We make lots of pretty things. We wash ourselves carefully every morning and wash our hands every time we eat. We want to make our teacher happy. He does not love us when we are dirty’ – and so on. Do you see, dear Clara, we are making progress in every sphere, serious progress. We are learning culture, we wash ourselves – and every day, too! The little children in the villages are already helping us to build up Soviet Russia. And then can we fear that we shall not triumph?” Lenin smiled, his old, happy smile, which expressed such goodness and certainty of victory.

I heard Lenin’s speech on the Russian Revolution, the speech of one restored to health who has the iron will to live in order to mold creative social life, the words of one to whom death was already stretching out its bony arms, pitilessly. But together with these last historical actions, there remains the indelible memory of the end of the last personal conversation I had with Lenin – apart from quite short remarks at occasional encounters. Together they form a complete and perfect whole. Here, as everywhere, Lenin was the same. Lenin, who saw the great in the small, who comprehended and appreciated the small in its inherent connections with the great. Lenin, who in Marx’s spirit recognized the close mutual reaction of popular education and revolution. Lenin, for whom popular education was the revolution. The revolution popular education. Lenin, who loved the working people warmly, selflessly and loved, above all, the children, the future of this people. The future of Communism. Lenin, whose heart equaled in greatness his spirit and his will and who could therefore become the supremely great leader of the proletariat. Lenin, strong and courageous, a victor because he was ruled by one thing: love of the toiling masses, trust in the toiling masses, belief in the greatness and goodness of the cause for which he gave up his life, belief in its victory. So he could achieve that historical “miracle.” He moved mountains.