Caught in the Revolution Read online

  Kenney, Jessie (1887–1985). Yorkshire-born cotton mill worker who joined the suffragette movement; worked closely with Emmeline Pankhurst Muriel (1876–1938) in the WSPU. After 1920 gave up political campaigning; later pursued a writing career, but remained unpublished.

  Knox, General (Major-General Sir Alfred Knox) (1870–1964). British army officer; military attaché in Petrograd from 1911, observer on the Eastern Front; in 1924 became a Tory MP.

  Lampson, Oliver Locker (1880–1954). British MP; in 1914 appointed a commander in the Royal Naval Air Service’s Armoured Car Division, which was sent to assist the Russian army on the Eastern Front; returned to UK to continue serving as an MP after the war.

  Lindley, Francis (1872–1950). Counsellor at the British embassy 1915–17; consul-general in Petrograd 1919; later served as British ambassador to Japan (1931–4).

  Lockhart, Robert Bruce (1887–1970). British diplomat and spy, vice consul at Moscow 1914–17, but made frequent visits to Petrograd. Acting British consul-general after February Revolution; left Russia before the October Revolution, but was back in Moscow in January 1918.

  Lombard, (Rev.) Bousfield Swan (1866–1951). English chaplain attached to the British embassy and the English Church in Petrograd from 1908, much respected in the British colony. Arrested and interned by Bolsheviks in 1918.

  Long, Robert Crozier (1872–1938). Anglo-Irish journalist and author; Petrograd correspondent for Associated Press. From 1923 to his death, Berlin correspondent for New York Times.

  Marcosson, Isaac (1876–1961). American journalist and writer from Kentucky; reported from Petrograd for the Saturday Evening Post.

  Maugham, Somerset (1874–1965). English novelist and short-story writer; sometime spy with the British Secret Intelligence Service during World War I. These experiences formed the basis for his Ashenden collection of short stories published in 1928.

  Moir, Ethel (1884–1973). Nursing orderly with the Scottish Women’s Hospitals on the Eastern Front; in Petrograd with fellow nurse Lilias Grant.

  Naudeau, Ludovic (1872–1949). French war correspondent for Le Temps; arrested by the Bolsheviks in 1918, he spent five months in prison in Moscow.

  Néry, Amélie de (dates unknown). French essayist and journalist, active 1900s–20s, who wrote under the pseudonym Marylie Markovitch.

  Nostitz, Countess (Lilie Bouton de Fernandez Azabal) (1875–1967). French-American adventuress and socialite from Iowa; originally a repertory company actress in New York, as Madeleine Bouton. Fled to Biarritz after the revolution; after Nostitz’s death there in 1926 she married a third time and settled in Spain.

  Noulens, Joseph (1864–1944). French government minister sent to replace ambassador Maurice Paléologue. In Petrograd from July 1917. Back in France, he remained an anti-Bolshevik campaigner, as leader of the Society of French Interests in Russia.

  Oudendijk, Willem (later William Oudendyk) (1874–1953). Distinguished Dutch diplomat, in service 1874–1931 in China, Persia and Russia. Ambassador to Petrograd 1917–18. Awarded an honorary knighthood (KCMG) for his efforts on behalf of British subjects stranded in Russia after the revolution.

  (Lady) Paget, Muriel (1876–1938). British philanthropist; set up soup kitchen for the poor in Southwark 1905; engaged in medical relief work in Russia during World War I. With Sybil Grey founded the Anglo-Russian Hospital in Petrograd.

  Paléologue, Maurice (1859–1944). French career diplomat, contemporary of Sir George Buchanan. French ambassador to Petrograd 1914–17; elected to the Académie française in 1928.

  Pankhurst, Emmeline (1858–1928). English suffragette leader, founder of the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) in 1903; lifelong political activist and campaigner for women’s rights.

  Patouillet, Louise (?–?). Nothing is known of the life of this French resident, in Petrograd from 1912, beyond the fact that she was married to Dr Jules Patouillet, director of the French Institute in Petrograd, but she left an extremely valuable diary of her time in the city, now in the Hoover Institute at Stanford University in California.

  Pax, Paulette (stage name of Paulette Ménard) (1887–1942). Born in Russia, Pax returned there in December 1916 as a member of the resident French troupe at the Mikhailovsky Theatre. She left Russia in September 1918, and in 1929 became co-director of the Théâtre de l’Oeuvre in Paris.

  Poole, Ernest (1880–1950). American novelist, sent to report on the Russian Revolution for the New Republic and Saturday Evening Post; Pulitzer Prize Winner in 1918.

  Ransome, Arthur (1884–1967). British journalist, correspondent of the Daily News. Briefly returned to Russia in 1919 for Manchester Guardian. Later a successful novelist, famous for his children’s series Swallows and Amazons.

  Reed, John (1887–1920). American rebel, writer and poet, famous among the bohemian set of Greenwich Village for his social campaigning and outspoken left-wing views. Arrived in Petrograd September 1917 with his wife Louise Bryant.

  Rhys Williams, Albert (1883–1962). American Congregational minister, labour organiser and ardent communist. Close friend of John Reed.

  Robien, Louis de (1888–1958). French count, military attaché at French embassy in Petrograd from 1914 to November 1918.

  Rogers, Leighton (1893–1962). Clerk with National City Bank of New York’s Petrograd branch 1916–18; volunteered for military intelligence 1918. On his return to USA worked in aeronautics for US Department of Commerce. Friend and colleague of Fred Sikes and Chester Swinnerton.

  Seymour, Dorothy (1882–1953). English Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse (VAD) at the Anglo-Russian Hospital; daughter of a general, granddaughter of an admiral, she had a position at court as a Woman of the Bedchamber to Princess Christian.

  Sikes, Fred (1893–1958). Princeton graduate who worked at the Petrograd branch of the National City Bank of New York 1916–18; retired as Assistant Vice President of the bank in New York. Colleague of Leighton Rogers and Chester Swinnerton.

  Stebbing, Edward (1872–1960). English professor of forestry; sent on assignment to Russia during World War I to investigate wood supplies for British army trenches and light railways.

  Stoker, Enid (1893–1961). English VAD at the Anglo-Russian Hospital; met Negley Farson while in Petrograd and married him in London in 1920. Their son was the writer and broadcaster Daniel Farson.

  Stopford, Bertie (Albert) (1860–1939). English art dealer, specialist on Fabergé, socialite and friend of Prince Felix Yusupov.

  Swinnerton, Chester (1894–1960). Massachusetts-born Harvard graduate; trainee clerk with the National City Bank’s Petrograd branch. Worked for the bank for many years in South America after he left Russia. Friend and colleague of Leighton Rogers and Fred Sikes.

  Thompson, Donald (1885–1947). American war photographer and cinematographer from Kansas, in Petrograd January–July 1917.

  Walpole, Hugh (1884–1941). New Zealand-born journalist and novelist; Red Cross worker in Russia when war broke out. Returned to Petrograd as head of the Anglo-Russian Propaganda Bureau 1916–17 with Harold Williams and Denis Garstin.

  Wightman, Orrin Sage (1873–1965). American doctor, served in US Army Medical Corps during World War I; in 1917 a member of American Red Cross medical mission to Russia.

  Williams, Harold (1876–1928). New Zealand-born journalist, linguist and ardent Russophile. Petrograd correspondent for the Daily Chronicle and official at the Anglo-Russian Propaganda Bureau with Hugh Walpole and Denis Garstin. Fiercely anti-Bolshevik, he fled Petrograd with his Russian wife and became foreign editor of The Times.

  Wilton, Robert (1868–1925). British journalist; European correspondent of New York Herald 1889–1903, then Times Special Correspondent in Petrograd. Returned to journalism in Paris after leaving Russia.

  Winship, North (1885–1968). American diplomat; consul-general in Petrograd and many consulate posts thereafter; retired as US ambassador to South Africa 1949.

  Woodhouse, Arthur (1867–1961). English diplomat; British consul at Petrog
rad 1907–18.

  Woodhouse, Ella (1896–1969). Daughter of British consul in Petrograd, Arthur Woodhouse.

  Wright, J. [ Joshua] Butler (1877–1939). American diplomat; replaced Fred Dearing as counsellor at the US embassy in Petrograd October 1916. Later served as an ambassador in Hungary, Uruguay, Czechoslovakia and Cuba.

  Author’s Note

  IN RUSSIA IN 1917 the old-style Julian calendar, running thirteen days behind the Western Gregorian calendar, was still in use, a fact that creates endless confusion and frustration for historian and reader alike. Many of the foreign eyewitnesses resident in Petrogradfn1 found it confusing, too, and although living for some time in Russia, chose to ignore the Julian calendar, dating their diaries and letters home to the UK, USA and elsewhere by the Gregorian one. Some occasionally noted both dates, but most did not; others, like Jessie Kenney, struggled to maintain both dates in their diaries – and ended up in a total muddle.

  In order to spare the reader considerable pain on this score, and because this book tells the story of the February and October Revolutions in Russia as they happened, by the Russian calendar (and not as March/November, by the Western calendar), all dates of letters, diaries and reports quoted in the text that were written in Russia at the time events were taking place, have been converted to the Russian old-style (OS) calendar, in order to fit the chronology of the book. The original Gregorian (NS) dates are clear to see in the original sources referred to in the notes, though in some cases, to avoid confusion, especially where an event occurred outside Russia, both dates are given.

  Many of the eyewitnesses used widely diverging spelling styles for Russian names and places. In addition, Philip Jordan had his own extremely idiosyncratic style of punctuation, capitalisation and spelling, which has been deliberately preserved in order to convey the immediacy and excitement of his narrative. In order to spare the reader the endless repetition of [sic], these spellings, and any other spelling oddities in eyewitness accounts, have been retained as given, and explained where necessary.

  PROLOGUE

  ‘The Air is Thick with Talk of Catastrophe’

  PETROGRAD WAS A brooding, beleaguered city that last desperate winter before the revolution broke; a snowbound city of ice-locked canals and looming squares. Its fine wide streets and elegant palaces of pink granite and coloured stucco fronted by rows of airy columns and arches no longer exuded a sense of imperial grandeur but, rather, a sense of decay. Everywhere you went amid the forbidding architecture of this ‘city for giants’ you could hear the ‘swish of the wind, and the tinkling of many, many bells of all sizes and tones’, rounded off by the ‘compelling boom of the great bell of St Isaac which comes from nowhere and envelops everything’.1 In the grip of winter, with its broad vistas laid open to the arctic cold blowing in across the Gulf of Finland, Russia’s capital had always assumed a chilly, haunting beauty on the grand scale that was peculiarly its own. But now, three years into the war, it was overflowing with thousands of refugees – Poles, Latvians, Lithuanians and Jews – who had fled the fighting on the Eastern Front. The capital was subdued and discouraged, and a ‘malign, disturbing atmosphere’ hung over it.2 The winter of 1916–17 was also marked by a new and ominous fixture on the landscape: the long silent queues of downcast women huddling in the cold, waiting interminably for bread, milk, meat – whatever they could lay their hands on. Petrograd was weary of war. Petrograd was hungry.

  Such had become the daily grinding hardship for the majority of the Russian population at large; and yet, despite the visible and crippling wartime shortages and the anguish of deprivation etched on the faces of its inhabitants, the city sheltered a large and diverse foreign community who were still thriving. The city might be Russian, but big international industry was still humming across the River Neva in the working-class districts of Vasilievsky Island, the Vyborg Side and beyond – where the great cotton and paper mills, shipyards, timber yards, sawmills and steelworks were still being run largely by British owners and managers,fn1 many of whom had lived in Russia for decades. The vast red-brick Thornton’s woollen mill – one of the biggest in Russia, founded in the 1880s – employed three thousand workers and was owned by three brothers from Yorkshire. Then there was the Nevsky Thread Manufacturing Company (established by Coats of Paisley, Scotland); the Neva Stearin Soap and Candle Works, run by William Miller & Co. of Leith, who also owned a brewery in the city; and Egerton Hubbard & Co.’s cotton mills and printing works.

  A host of specialist stores in the city catered to the needs of such privileged expatriates, along with the wealthy Russian aristocracy. Even in 1916 you could still window-shop in front of the big shining plate-glass windows of the French and English luxury stores along the Nevsky Prospekt: Petrograd’s equivalent of Bond Street. Here the French dressmakers, tailors and glovers – such as Brisac, couturier to the Empress, and Brocard the French perfumier, who also supplied the imperial family – continued to enjoy the patronage of the rich. At the English Shop (better known by its French rendering as the ‘Magasin Anglais’) you could buy the best Harris tweeds and English soap and enjoy the store’s ‘demure English provincialism’, fancying yourself ‘in the High Street in Chester, or Leicester, or Truro, or Canterbury’.3 Druce’s imported British goods and Maples furniture from the Tottenham Court Road; Watkins & Co., the English bookseller, was patronised by many in the British colony; other foreign expatriates could catch up with the news back home by stopping off at Wolff’s bookshop, which sold magazines and newspapers in seven different languages. Everywhere, still, in Petrograd, ‘there was not a single shop of importance but displayed boldly lettered notices: “English spoken”, “Ici on parle Francais” [and, until the outbreak of war], “Man spricht Deutsch”’.4 French was still the lingua franca of the Russian aristocracy and bureaucracy, the Journal de St-Pétersbourg being the semi-official organ of the Russian Foreign Office and much in demand during wartime, with so many French diplomats and military attachés in the city. But English had even greater exclusivity, as the language of the ‘higher circles of the Court’ and the imperial family.5

  By the autumn of 1916 the diplomatic community in wartime Petrograd was dominated by the Allied embassies of Britain, France and Italy, and the still-neutral USA – the large diplomatic contingent of Germany and Austria-Hungary having departed in 1914. Expatriate life in the city had always traditionally devolved to the dominating presence of the British colony of some two thousand or so nationals, its embassy and its gossipy focal point, the Anglican Church on the English Embankment, popularly known as the ‘English Church’. Recalling his years in Petrograd, the church’s resident priest, Rev. Bousfield Swan Lombard (who also served as chaplain to the British embassy from 1908), spoke of a community that was ‘hospitable beyond all expectation’, but whose outlook on life he had found disturbingly ‘ultra-conservative’. ‘So far from being broad and unfettered’, the colony was ‘narrowed by convention to such an extent that it took me quite a long time to realize that such conventionality was possible’. It was a highly insular community that had remained mistrustful of change or innovation. ‘Any new suggestion was met, not by “it is impracticable, or unworkable”,’ wrote Lombard, ‘but by either “it has never been the custom here” or it is “quite out of the question”.’6 He admitted regretfully that he was ‘amazed at the narrowness and small-mindedness of the British colony; it resembled a little gossipy English village, or perhaps better still, a Cathedral close’.7

  Life in this socially incestuous Barchester-like enclave was largely reduced to ‘small coteries of intimate friends’, as antiques dealer and socialite Bertie Stopford remembered.8 Many doggedly clung to their English ways, to the extent of refusing to learn or speak Russian, and sent their children back to boarding school in England; most of the rest insisted on English or Scottish governesses and tutors, or else, failing that, French ones. For their social life the British colony tended to prefer their own parties, concerts and theatricals, though they all l
oved the Russian ballet. They baffled the Russians with their passion for sport, and ran their own cricket, football, tennis, yachting and rowing clubs; they even had a club for racing pigeons. They played golf together at Murino – a course they had constructed ten miles north-east of Petrograd, ‘in a stubborn attempt to let nothing stand in their way of expressing themselves’.9fn2

  The closed, clannish society of the British colony extended also to its New English Club at number 36 Bolshaya Morskaya. Although a few British diplomats were allowed honorary membership of the ultra-elitist Imperial Yacht Club immediately opposite – patronised by the aristocracy and senior members of the court and imperial civil service – it was the New English Club that was the exclusive preserve of the colony, frequented by ‘practically all the clubbable Britons’ in the city, its chief function being to promote the interests of British business under the chairmanship of the resident ambassador.10 It allowed only a handful of chosen Americans to be members. Negley Farson, an American entrepreneur who had been in Petrograd for some time grappling with venal officialdom in his attempts to sell motorcycles to the Imperial Russian Army, abhorred this narrow world. The British expats ‘lived like feudal lords . . . in baronial fashion, with their abonnement [subscription] at the Ballet, their belligerent private coachmen, their New English Club on the Morskayia, their golf club, their tennis club, their “English Magazine” [the Magasin Anglais]’, which was the ‘only place in Russia where one could get good shoes or leather goods’, and their ‘hordes of servants’. He resented the social cachet they enjoyed, which opened doors far more easily than those he was banging on, notably at the Russian War Ministry. ‘An Englishman, any Englishman in Tsarist Russia, was automatically a Milord – and treated as such,’ he noted.11