V. I.

Lenin

How the “Spark” Was Nearly Extinguished [1]

Ifirst went to Zurich. I arrived alone without having seen Arsenyev
(Potresov). P. B. Axelrod met me in Zurich with open arms and I spent two
days in a heart-to-heart talk with him. The conversation was as between
friends who had not seen each other for a long time; we spoke about
anything and everything, in no particular order, and not at all in the
manner of a business discussion. Indeed, in regard to practical matters,
there is not much that Axelrod mitsprechen kann , [2] but it was quite evident that he gravitated towards G. V. Plekhanov, from
the manner in which he insisted on setting up the printing-press for the
magazine in Geneva. Generally speaking, Axelrod was very
“flattering” (excuse the expression), he said that our enterprise meant everything to them, that it meant their revival,
that “we” would now be able to counteract Plekhanov’s extremism. I
took particular note of the last remark, and the entire subsequent
“history” has proved that those were words of especial significance.

Iwent to Geneva. Arsenyev warned me to be particularly cautious with
Plekhanov, who was terribly wrought up over the split [9]
and very suspicious. My conversation with him did indeed show that he
really was suspicious, distrustful, and rechthaberisch to the
nec plus ultra . [3]

I tried to observe caution and avoided all “sore” points, but
the constant restraint that I had to place on myself could not but greatly affect my mood. From time to time little “frictions” arose in
the form of sharp retorts on the part of Plekhanov to any remark that
might even in the least degree cool down or soothe the passions that had
been aroused (by the split). There was also “friction” over
questions concerning the tactics of the magazine, Plekhanov throughout
displaying complete intolerance, an inability or an unwillingness to
understand other people’s arguments, and, to employ the correct term,
insincerity. We declared that we must make every possible
allowance for Struve, that we ourselves bore some guilt for his
development, since we, including Plekhanov , had failed to protest
when protest was necessary (1895, 1897). Plekhanov absolutely refused to
admit even the slightest guilt, employing transparently worthless
arguments by which he dodged the issue without clarifying
it. This diplomacy in the course of comradely conversations between future
co-editors was extremely unpleasant. Why the self-deception with the
pretence that he, Plekhanov, had in 1895 been “ordered [??] not to
shoot” (at Struve) and that he was accustomed to doing as he was
ordered

(really!)? [10]
Why the self-deception with the assertion that in 1897 (when Struve wrote
in Novoye Slovo that his object was to refute one of the
fundamental theses of Marxism) he had not opposed it, because he never
could (and never would) conceive of polemics between collaborators [11]
in one and the same magazine? This insincerity was extremely irritating,
the more so by the fact that in the discussion Plekhanov sought to make it
appear that we did not desire to carry on a ruthless fight against Struve,
that we desired to “reconcile everything,” etc. A heated discussion
arose over the question of polemics in general in columns of the
magazine. Plekhanov was opposed and refused to listen to our arguments. He
displayed a hatred towards “the Union-Abroad people” that
bordered on the indecent (suspecting them of espionage, accusing them of
being swindlers and rogues, and asserting that he would not hesitate to
“shoot” such “traitors,” etc.). The remotest suggestion
that he went to extremes (for example, my allusion to the publication, of
private

letters [12] and to the imprudence of such a procedure) roused him to a high pitch of
excitement and manifest irritability. It became evident that he and we
were becoming increasingly disgruntled.

But with him it expressed itself, among other things, in the following: We
had a draft prepared of an editorial declaration (“In the Name of the
Editorial

Board”), [4] in which we explained the aims and the programme of the publications. This
was written in an “opportunist” spirit (from Plekhanov’s point
of view)—polemics between members of the staff were to be permitted,
the tone was modest, allowance was made for the possibility of a peaceful
ending of the controversy with the “economists,” etc. The
declaration laid stress on our belonging to the Party and on our desire to
work for its unification. Plekhanov had read this declaration together
with Arsenyev and Zasulich before my arrival; he had read it and raised no
objection to the content. He had merely expressed a desire to improve the
style, to elevate the tone, without changing the trend of the
ideas. A. N. Potresov had left the declaration with him for this
purpose. When I arrived, Plekhanov did not say a word to me about the
matter, but when I visited him a few days later, he returned the
declaration to me with an air of—Here you are, in the presence of
witnesses, I return it to you intact; you see I have not lost it. I
inquired why he had not made the suggested changes. He replied evasively
that it could be done later, that it would not take long and was not worth
doing at the time. I took the declaration, made the changes myself (it was
a rough draft outlined when I was still in Russia), and read it a second
time to Plekhanov (in the presence of Vera Zasulich), this time asking him
point-blank to take the thing and correct it. Again he resorted
to evasions and turned the job over to Vera Zasulich who was sitting
beside him (an altogether strange suggestion, since we had never requested
her to work on the statement, besides which, she could not have made the
corrections, i.e., have “elevated” the tone and given the
declaration the character of a manifesto).

Thusmatters went on until the conference (the conference of the entire
Emancipation of Labour group: Plekhanov, Axelrod, and Zasulich, and we
two, our third man being absent [13] ).
Finally Axelrod arrived and the conference began. On the question of our
attitude towards the Jewish Union (the Bund), Plekhanov displayed extreme
intolerance and openly declared it to be an organisation of exploiters who exploit the
Russians and not a Social-Democratic organisation. He said that our aim
was to eject this Bund from the Party, that the Jews are all chauvinists
and nationalists, that a Russian party should be Russian and should not
render itself into “captivity” to the “brood of vipers,”
etc. None of our objections to these indecent speeches had any result and
Plekhanov stuck to his ideas to the full, saying that we simply did not
know enough about the Jews, that we had no real experience in dealing with
Jews. No resolution on this question was adopted. We read the
“declaration” together at the conference. Plekhanov’s behaviour was very odd. He remained silent, he suggested no changes, he
did not take a stand against the idea in the declaration that polemics be
permitted, and in general seemed to withdraw, precisely to withdraw. He
did not wish to participate, and only casually threw in a venomous,
malicious remark to the effect that he (meaning they, i.e., the
Emancipation of Labour group of which he is dictator), of course, would
have written a different sort of declaration. This remark, uttered in
passing, after a sentence in connection with a different matter, struck me
as being particularly repellent; a conference of co-editors is in session
and one of them (who has been twice asked to submit his own draft
or to suggest changes to ours) suggests no emendations, but sarcastically
observes that he, of course, would not have written so (in so timid,
modest, and opportunistic a manner, he wished to say). This showed clearly
enough that normal relations did not exist between him and
us. Subsequently—let me pass over the less important issues of the
conference—the question of our attitude towards

Bobo [14] and M. I. Tugan-Baranovsky came up. We were in favour of a
conditional invitation(we were inevitably driven to this by the
bitterness Plekhanov displayed; we wanted him to see that we desired a
different attitude. His incredible bitterness drove one instinctively, as
it were, to protest and to defend his opponents. Zasulich aptly remarked
that Plekhanov always argued in a manner that aroused his readers’
sympathy for his opponent). Very coldly and drily Plekhanov declared that
he completely disagreed, and he demonstratively remained silent throughout
the whole of our fairly protracted conversation with Axelrod and Zasulich, who were not disinclined to agree with us. The whole morning passed in
what might be called a very tense atmosphere. It became clear beyond doubt
that Plekhanov was presenting an ultimatum to us—to choose between
him and those “rogues.” Seeing that things were coming to such a
pass, Arsenyev and I agreed to give way and at the very opening of the
evening session declared that “on the insistence of Plekhanov”
we had withdrawn our proposal. This declaration met with silence (as if it
were a matter of course that we could do nothing else but give way!). This
“ultimatum atmosphere” (as Arsenyev later described it)
greatly irritated us—Plekhanov’s desire to have unlimited power was
obvious. A little before that, in a private conversation about Bobo (when
Plekhanov, Arsenyev, Zasulich, and I were taking an evening walk in the
woods), Plekhanov, after a heated discussion, said, laying his hand on my
shoulders, “But, gentlemen, I am not putting any conditions; we
shall discuss all this together at the conference and together we will
decide.” I was touched by this at the time. But at the conference the very
opposite happened; Plekhanov stood aside from the comradely discussion,
maintained an angry silence, and by his silence obviously “ put conditions .” To me it seemed to be a sharp display of insincerity
(although I did not at the moment formulate my impressions so clearly),
while Arsenyev declared outright: “I will never forgive him this
concession!” Saturday came. I do not remember exactly what we spoke about
that day, but in the evening, when we were all walking together, a fresh
conflict flared up. Plekhanov proposed that a certain person (as yet
unpublished in our literature, but in whom he claims to see philosophical
talent; the person is unknown to me, except for a blind worship of Plekhanov) be assigned the writing of an article on a
philosophical subject. Plekhanov went on to say:

“I shall advise the person to begin the article with a remark against
Kautsky somewhat as follows—a fine fellow, indeed! has already
become a ’critic’ and publishes philosophic articles by ’critics’ in
Neue Zeit ,  [15] but does not give full scope to ’Marxists’ [read: Plekhanov].” Arsenyev,
on hearing the proposal for a sharp attack upon Kautsky (who had been
invited to contribute to the magazine), became indignant and heatedly
opposed it on the grounds that it was uncalled for. Plekhanov became
puffed up and irate, I seconded Arsenyev, Axelrod and Zasulich remained silent. Half an hour
later, Plekhanov departed (we had accompanied him to the steamer), in the
final moments he had sat in silence, his brow black as a cloud. As soon as
he left us, we felt as though a weight had been lifted from us all, and
the discussion proceeded in a “friendly spirit.” The next day,
Sunday (today is September 2, Sunday. It happened only a week
ago!!! But to me it seems like a year! How remote the thing has become!),
we arranged to meet, not in our cottage, but at Plekhanov’s. We came to
the place, Arsenyev arriving first, I later. Plekhanov had sent Axelrod
and Zasulich to inform Arsenyev that he declined to be co-editor, desiring
to be just a contributor. Axelrod left, and Zasulich, quite put out and
confused, murmured to Arsenyev: “Georg is displeased, he
declines....” I entered. The door was opened for me by Plekhanov, who
offered me his hand with a rather queer smile and then walked out. I
stepped into the room and found Zasulich and Arsenyev sitting there, their
faces wearing a strange expression. “Well, ladies and gentlemen,”
said I, “how goes it?” Plekhanov entered and invited us into his
room. There he stated that it would be better if he were a contributor, an
ordinary contributor, for otherwise there would be continual friction,
that evidently his views on things differed from ours, that he understood
and respected our, Party, point of view, but could not share it. Better,
therefore, that we be the editors and he a contributor. We were amazed to
hear this, positively amazed, and began to argue against the
idea. Thereupon Plekhanov said: “Well, if we are to be together, how
shall we vote; how many votes are there?” “Six.” “Six is not a
practical number.” “Well, let Georg have two votes,” suggested
Zasulich, “otherwise he will always be alone—two votes on
questions of tactics.” We agreed to that. Upon that Plekhanov took the
reins of management in his hands and with the air of editor-in-chief began
apportioning departments among those present and assigning articles to
this one and that in a tone that brooked no objection. We sat there as if
we had been ducked; mechanically we agreed to everything, unable as yet to
comprehend what had taken place. We realised that we had been made fools
of; that our remarks were becoming more and more halting; that Plekhanov
“waved them aside” (not refuting them but waving them aside) more and more easily and carelessly; that
“the new system” was de facto tantamount to his complete domination; and that Plekhanov understood this perfectly, not
hesitating to domineer over us without ceremony. We realised that we had
been fooled and utterly defeated, but were as yet unable to get a full
grasp of our position. Yet no sooner did we find ourselves alone, no
sooner had we left the steamer and were on our way to the cottage, than
the lid flew off and we broke out in a wild and furious tirade against
Plekhanov.

Butbefore relating the substance of this tirade and what it led to, I
shall go back a bit. Why did the idea of Plekhanov’s complete domination
(quite apart from the form it assumed) rouse us to such
indignation? Previously we had thought that we would be the editors, and
they—close collaborators. I had proposed (back in Russia) that the
matter be formally submitted in this manner, but Arsenyev had objected to
a formal proposition and suggested that we go about it “in a
friendly way” (which would achieve the same result), to which I
agreed. But both of us were in accord on the point that we were to be the
editors, because the “old ones” were extremely intolerant, in
addition to the fact that they would not be able to perform painstakingly
the drudgery of editorial work. These were the only considerations that
guided us, for we were quite ready to accept their ideological
guidance. The conversations I had had in Geneva with those of Plekhanov’s
younger comrades and adherents closest to him (members of the
Sotsial-Demokrat group, [16] long-standing adherents of
Plekhanov, active Party workers, not working men, but simple, industrious
people entirely devoted to Plekhanov) —these conversations
strengthened my conviction (and Arsenyev’s) that this was exactly how we
should arrange the matter. Those adherents had told us without
equivocation that it was desirable to have the editorial office in
Germany, where we would be more independent of Plekhanov , and
that to allow the old ones to have practical control of the editorial work
would bring about terrible delays, if not the collapse of the entire
enterprise. For the very same reasons, Arsenyev was unconditionally in favour of Germany.

Ibroke off my description of how the “Spark” was nearly
extinguished at the point where we were returning home on the evening of Sunday, August 26 (New Style). As soon as we found
ourselves alone, after leaving the steamer, we broke out into a flood of
angry expressions. Our pent-up feelings got the better of us; the charged
atmosphere burst into a storm. Up and down our little village we paced far
into the night; it was quite dark, there was a rumbling of thunder, and
constant flashes of lightning rent the air. We walked along, bursting with
indignation. I remember that Arsenyev began by declaring that as far as he
was concerned his personal relations with Plekhanov were broken off once
and for all, never to be restored. He would maintain business relations
with him, but as for personal relations— fertig . [5]

Plekhanov’s behaviour had been insulting to such a degree that one could
not help suspecting him of harbouring “unclean” thoughts about
us (i.e., that he regarded us as

Streber [6]

).

He trampled us underfoot, etc. I fully supported these charges. My
“infatuation” with Plekhanov disappeared as if by magic, and I
felt offended and embittered to an unbelievable degree. Never, never in my
life, had I regarded any other man with such sincere respect and
veneration, never had I stood before any man so “humbly” and
never before had I been so brutally “kicked.” That’s what it was, we
had actually been kicked. We had been scared like little children, scared
by the grown-ups threatening to leave us to ourselves, and when we funked
(the shame of it!) we were brushed aside with an incredible
unceremoniousness. We now realised very clearly that Plekhanov had simply
laid a trap for us that morning when he declined to act as a co-editor; it
had been a deliberate chess move, a snare for guileless “pigeons.”
There could be no doubt whatever about that, for, had Plekhanov sincerely
feared to act as a co-editor because he would be a stumbling-block and
might rouse useless friction between us, he would not a moment later have
revealed (and brutally revealed) the fact that his co-editorship was
absolutely the equivalent of his sole editorship. And since a man
with whom we desired to co-operate closely and establish most intimate
relations, resorted to chess moves in dealing with comrades, there could
be no doubt that this man was bad, yes, bad, inspired by petty motives of personal vanity and
conceit—an insincere man. This discovery—and it was indeed a
discovery—struck us like a thunderbolt; for up to that moment both
of us had stood in admiration of Plekhanov, and, as we do with a loved
one, we had forgiven him everything; we had closed our eyes to all his
short comings; we had tried hard to persuade ourselves that those
shortcomings were really non-existent, that they were petty things that
bothered only people who had no proper regard for principles. Yet we
ourselves had been taught practically that those “petty”
shortcomings were capable of repelling the most devoted friends, that no
appreciation of his theoretical correctness could make us forget his
repelling traits. Our indignation knew no bounds. Our ideal had
been destroyed; gloatingly we trampled it underfoot like a dethroned
god. There was no end to the charges we hurled against him. It cannot go
on like this, we decided. We do not wish, we will not, we cannot
work together with him under such conditions. Good-bye, magazine! We will
throw everything up and return to Russia, where we will start all over
again, right from the very beginning, and confine ourselves to the
newspaper. We refuse to be pawns in the hands of that man; he does not
understand, and cannot maintain comradely relations. We did not dare
undertake the editorship ourselves; besides, it would be
positively repulsive to do so now, for it would appear as though we really
coveted the editor’s post, that we really were Streber ,
careerists, and that we, too, were inspired by motives of vanity, though
in a smaller way.... It is difficult to-describe adequately what our
feelings were that night—such mixed, heavy, confused feelings. It
was a real drama; the complete abandonment of the thing which for years we
had tended like a favourite child, and with which we had inseparably
linked the whole of our life’s work. And all because we had formerly been
infatuated with Plekhanov. Had we not been so infatuated, had we regarded
him more dispassionately, more level-headedly, had we studied him more
objectively, our conduct towards him would have been different and we
would not have suffered such disaster, in the literal sense of the word,
we would not have received such a “moral ducking,” as Arsenyev
correctly expressed it. We had received the most bitter lesson of our
lives, a painfully bitter, painfully brutal lesson. Young comrades
“court” an elder comrade out of the great love they bear for
him—and suddenly he injects into this love an atmosphere of
intrigue, compelling them to feel, not as younger brothers, but as fools
to be led by the nose, as pawns to be moved about at will, and, still
worse, as clumsy Streber who must be thoroughly frightened and
quashed! An enamoured youth receives from the object of his love a bitter
lesson— to regard all persons “without sentiment,” to keep a
stone in one’s sling. Many more words of an equally bitter nature did we
utter that night. The suddenness of the disaster naturally caused us to
magnify it, but, in the main, the bitter words we uttered were
true. Blinded by our love, we had actually behaved like slaves ,
and it is humiliating to be a slave. Our sense of having been wronged was
magnified a hundredfold by the fact that “he” himself had
opened our eyes to our humiliation....

Finally,we returned to our respective rooms to go to bed, firmly
determined to express our indignation to Plekhanov on the following day,
to give up the magazine and go away, retain only the newspaper, and
publish the material for the magazine in pamphlet form. The cause would
not suffer by this, we thought, and we would avoid having intimate
dealings with “that man.”

Nextmorning I woke up earlier than usual. I was awakened by footsteps on
the stairs and the voice of Axelrod who was knocking at Arsenyev’s door. I
heard Arsenyev call out in reply and open the door—I heard all this
and wondered whether he would have pluck enough to come out with
everything immediately. Better to speak out at once, indeed better, than
to drag the thing out! I washed and dressed and went to Arsenyev’s room,
where I found him at his toilet. Axelrod was sitting in the armchair, his
face wearing a somewhat strained expression. “Listen, Comrade X,”
said Arsenyev turning to me, “I have told Axelrod of our decision to
go back to Russia, and of our conviction that things can not be run like
this.” I fully concurred with this, of course, and supported Arsenyev’s
statement. We related everything to Axelrod, quite frankly, so much so
that Arsenyev even spoke of our suspicion that Plekhanov regarded us as
Streber. Axelrod half-sympathised with us generally, shook his
head

sadly, and appeared to be greatly perturbed, confused, put out. But
hearing this last remark, he began to protest and to shout that our
accusation was unfounded; that Plekhanov had many shortcomings, but not
this one; that in this matter it was not he who was unjust to us, but we
who were unjust to him; that until then he had been prepared to say to
Plekhanov, “See what a mess you have made, now clear it up yourself,
I wash my hands of the matter,” but he could no longer say this, seeing
that we were also unjust. His assurances made little impression upon us,
as may be imagined, and poor Axelrod looked pitiful when he finally
realised that we were firm in our decision.

Wewent out together to warn Vera Zasulich. It was to be expected that she
would take the news of the “break” (for it did certainly look
like a break) very badly. “I fear,” Arsenyev had said to me the
previous evening, “I do seriously fear that she will commit
suicide....”

Ishall never forget the mood in which we three went out that
morning. “It’s like going to a funeral,” I thought to myself. And
indeed we walked as in a funeral procession—silent, with downcast
eyes, oppressed to the extreme by the absurdness, the preposterousness,
and the senselessness of our loss. As though a curse had descended upon
us! Every thing had been proceeding smoothly after so many misfortunes and
failures, when suddenly, a whirlwind—and the end, the whole thing
shattered again. I could hardly bring myself to believe it (as one cannot
bring oneself to believe the death of a near one)—could it be I, the
fervent worshipper of Plekhanov, who was now filled with bitter thoughts
about him, who was walking along with clenched teeth and a devilish chill
at the heart, intending to hurl cold and bitter words at him and almost to
announce the “breaking-off of our relations”? Was this but a hideous
dream, or was it reality?

Theimpression clung to us even during our conversation with Zasulich. She
did not display any strong emotion, but she was obviously deeply depressed
and she asked us, almost implored us, could we not go back on our
decision, could we not try—perhaps it was not so terrible, after
all, and it would be possible to set things to rights once we were at
work; during the work the repellent features of his character would not be so apparent.... It was extremely painful to listen to the
sincere pleadings of this woman, weak before Plekhanov, but absolutely
sincere and passionately loyal to the cause, who bore the yoke of
Plekhanovism with the “heroism of a slave” (Arsenyev’s expression). It was, indeed, so painful that at times I thought I would
burst into tears.... Words of pity, despair, etc., easily move one to
tears at a funeral....

Weleft Axelrod and Zasulich. We lunched, dispatched letters to Germany
saying that we were coming and that they were to stop the machine; we had even sent a telegram about the matter ( prior
to our conversation with Plekhanov!!), and neither, of us doubted for a
moment that we had done right.

Afterlunch, at the appointed hour, we again went to the house of Axelrod
and Zasulich, where Plekhanov was due to be by now. As we approached, the
three of them came out to meet us. We greeted each other in
silence. Plekhanov tried to start an extraneous conversation (we had asked
Axelrod and Zasulich to warn him of our intention, so that he would know
all about it), we returned to the room and sat down. Arsenyev began to
speak—drily, briefly, and with restraint. He said that we despaired
of the possibility of carrying on with relations such as they had
developed on the previous evening; that we had decided to return to Russia
to consult the comrades there, since we no longer dared to decide the
matter ourselves, and that for the time being we would have to abandon the
idea of publishing the magazine. Plekhanov was very calm and restrained,
and apparently had complete command of himself; he did not show a trace of
the nervousness betrayed by Axelrod and Zasulich (he had been in bigger
battles than this! we thought to ourselves, gazing at him in fury). He
inquired what it was all about. “We are in an atmosphere of
ultimatums,” replied Arsenyev, and he expounded the idea at greater
length. “Were you afraid that after the first issue I would go on
strike before we got out the second?" asked Plekhanov aggressively. He
thought we would not dare to say a thing like that. But I too was calm and
cool, as I replied: “Is that very much different from what Arsenyev
said? Isn’t that what he said?” Plekhanov seemed to bristle under the
words. He had not expected such a dry tone and direct accusation.

“Well,if you have decided to leave, what is there to discuss?” he
said. “I have nothing to say, my position is a very curious one. All
you do is talk of impressions and nothing else. You have the impression
that I am a bad man. I cannot help that.”

“Wemay be to blame,” I said, desiring to turn the conversation away
from this “impossible” subject, “for having rushed across in this headlong manner without first sounding the ford.”

“Notat all,” replied Plekhanov. “To speak quite frankly, you
are to blame (perhaps Arsenyev’s state of nervousness may have had
something to do with it) for attaching too much importance to impressions
to which no importance whatever should have been attached.” After a
moment’s silence we said that we could confine ourselves to publishing
pamphlets for the time being. Plekhanov angrily retorted:

“I haven’t thought about pamphlets and am not thinking of
them. Don’t count on me . I shall not sit idle with my arms
folded if you go away. I may take up some other enterprise before you
return.”

Nothingso much lowered Plekhanov in my eyes as this statement when later
I recalled it and turned it over in my mind. This was such a crude threat
and such a badly calculated attempt to intimidate us, that it simply
“finished” Plekhanov as far as we were concerned and exposed
his “policy” towards us: give them a good scare and that will
suffice....

Butwe did not pay the slightest attention to his threat. I
simply pressed my lips tight in silence: very well, if this is how you
would have it, then à la guerre comme à la guerre [7]

;

but you must be a fool if you cannot see that we have changed, that we
have undergone a transformation overnight.

Perceivingthat his threats were ineffective, Plekhanov tried another
manoeuvre—for what else can it be called, when a few moments later
he stated that the break with us would spell for him complete abandonment
of political activity, that he would give up political work and devote
himself to science, to purely scientific literature, for if he could not work with us, it meant that he would not be able to work with
anybody.... Having found threats to be unavailing, he tried flattery! But
coming as that did alter threats, it could only produce a feeling
of revulsion.... The conversation was very brief and nothing came of
it. Seeing this, Plekhanov switched the conversation to Russian atrocities
in China, but he was almost the only one who spoke and very soon we parted
company.

Ourconversation with Axelrod and Zasulich after Plekhanov’s departure was
neither interesting nor important; Axelrod wriggled and tried to prove
that Plekhanov was also crushed and that the sin would be on our heads if
we left in this manner, etc., etc. In a tête-à-tête with
Arsenyev, Zasulich confessed that “Georg” was always like that. She
confessed to her “slavish heroism,” but admitted that it would
“teach him a lesson” if we went away.

Wespent the rest of the evening in a state of idleness and depression.

Onthe next day, Tuesday, August 28 (New Style), we were due to leave for
Geneva, and from there to proceed to Germany. Early in the morning, I was
awakened by Arsenyev (a late riser usually). I was surprised. He said that
he had slept badly and that he had thought of a last possible scheme by
which the matter could somehow be adjusted so that a serious
Party enterprise might not be ruined by spoiled personal
relations. We would publish a collection , since we had the
material ready and had established contact with the printing-house. We
would publish this collection under the present undefined editorial
relations and see what happened; from this it would be just as easy to
pass on to the publication of a magazine as to the publication of
pamphlets. If Plekhanov remained stubborn, then, to the devil with him, we
would know that we had done all we could.... And thus it was decided.

Wewent out to inform Axelrod and Zasulich and met them on the way; they
were coming to see us. They, of course, readily agreed and Axelrod
undertook the task of negotiating with Plekhanov and of obtaining his
consent.

Wearrived at Geneva and had our last interview with
Plekhanov. He adopted a tone which might have suggested that all that had
happened was a sad misunderstanding due to nervousness. He inquired sympathetically after Arsenyev’s health, and
nearly embraced him—the latter almost gave a jump. Plekhanov agreed
to the publication of a collection. We said that in regard to the
editorial arrangements, three variations were possible: 1) we to be the
editors, and he a contributor; 2) all of us to be the editors; 3) he to be
the editor, and we contributors; that we would discuss all three
alternatives in Russia, draw up a plan, and bring it back with
us. Plekhanov declared that he absolutely rejected the third variant, that
he insisted emphatically that this arrangement be definitely
excluded, and that he agreed to the first two. We therefore decided that for the time being, until we submitted our
proposal for the new editorial regime, the old system was to remain in
force (the six of us to act as co-editors, with Plekhanov apportioned two
votes).

Plekhanovthen expressed the desire to know precisely what it was that we
were dissatisfied with. I remarked that perhaps it would be better to pay
more attention to the future rather than to the past. But he insisted that
the question be gone into and clarified. A conversation started in which
only Plekhanov and I took part, Arsenyev and Axelrod remaining silent. The
conversation was carried on rather calmly, even very calmly. Plekhanov
said he had noticed that Arsenyev was irritated by his refusal concerning
Struve; I remarked that he, on the contrary, had laid down conditions to
us, notwithstanding his statement, previously made during our conversation
in the woods, that he would impose no conditions. Plekhanov defended
himself, saying that he had been silent, not because he was laying down
conditions, but because the question was clear as far as he was
concerned. I urged the necessity for permitting polemics and the necessity
for voting among ourselves. Plekhanov agreed to the latter, but added that
voting, of course, was permissible on partial questions, but impossible on
fundamental questions. I objected by saying that it would not always be
easy to distinguish between fundamental and partial questions, and that it
was precisely in drawing such distinctions that the co-editors would have
to take a vote. Plekhanov was stubborn. He said that this was a matter of
conscience, that the distinction between fundamental and partial questions
was perfectly clear, and that there would be no occasion for taking a vote. And so we got stuck in this dispute as
to whether voting should be permitted among the editors on the question of
defining what were fundamental and what were partial questions, and we
could make no progress. Plekhanov displayed all his dexterity, the
brilliance of his examples, smiles, jests, and citations, which compelled
us to laugh in spite of ourselves; but he evaded the question without
definitely saying “no.” I became convinced that he positively could
not concede the point; that he could not abandon his “individualism” and his “ultimatums,” since he would
never agree to take a vote on such questions but would present ultimatums.

Thatevening I departed without again meeting any of the members of the
Emancipation of Labour group. We had agreed among ourselves not to relate
what had passed to any one except our most intimate friends. We decided to
keep up appearances and not give our opponents cause for
triumph. Outwardly it was as though nothing had happened; the apparatus
must continue to work as it had worked till then, but within a chord had
broken, and instead of splendid personal relations, dry, business-like
relations prevailed, with a constant reckoning according to the principle:
si vis pacem, para bellum . [8]

Itwill be of interest, however, to mention a conversation I had that same
evening with an intimate friend and adherent of Plekhanov, a member of the
Sotsial-Demokrat group. I mentioned no word to him about what had
occurred; I told him that, we had arranged to publish a magazine, that the
articles had been decided on—it was time to set to work. I discussed
with him the practical ways of arranging the work. He gave stress to the
opinion that the old ones were absolutely incapable of doing editorial
work. I discussed with him the “three variations” and asked
him directly which in his opinion was the best. Without hesitation, he
answered—the first (we to be the editors, they the contributors),
but in all probability, he thought, the magazine would be Plekhanov’s and
the newspaper ours.

Asthe affair became more and more remote, we began to think of it more calmly,
and became convinced that it was entirely unreasonable to give up the enterprise, that we had for the time
being no ground for fearing to undertake the editorship (of the
collection ), but that indeed it was necessary for us to undertake
it, for there was absolutely no other way of making the apparatus work
properly, and of preventing the project from being ruined by the
disruptive “propensities” of Plekhanov.

Bythe time we arrived at

N., [17] on September 4 or 5, we had drawn up the plan of the formal
relations between us (I had begun to write i1 en route , on the
train). That plan made us the editors and them the contributors, with the
right to vote on all editorial questions. It was decided to discuss this
plan with Yegor (Martov), and then to submit it to them.

Hopeswere beginning to rise that the “Spark” would be rekindled.

---
Notes:
[1]
A play of words on the title of the newspaper Iskra meaning spark.— Ed .

[2]
Can contribute.— Ed .

[3]
Holding himself to be right to the nth degree.— Ed .

[4]
See p. 320 of this’ volume.— Ed .

[5]
Finished.— Ed .

[6]
Careerists.— Ed .

[7]
If it’s war, then the way of war!— Ed .

[8]
If you desire peace, prepare for war.— Ed .

[9]
The split in the Union of Russian Social-Democrats Abroad, referred to in
this passage, occurred at the Second Congress of the Union in April
1900. At the First Congress of the R.S.D.L.P., the Union was recognised as
the representative of the Party abroad; the majority of its members,
however, adopted the “economist” position, on account of which
the Emancipation of Labour group and their supporters left the Congress,
broke off relations with the Union, and formed an independent organisation
of Russian Social-Democrats abroad under the name of Russian Revolutionary
Organisation Sotsial-Demokrat .

[10]
By saying that he had been “ordered” not “to shoot” at P. B. Struve in 1895 (in this case he is hinting at
A. N. Potresov), G. V. Plekhanov was trying to justify his conciliatory
attitude towards the revisionist position of the “legal Marxists.”
Lenin considered Plekhanov’s behaviour to be incorrect, because he not
only failed to criticise the bourgeois-liberal views of Struve but took
the latter under his protection.

[11]
Lenin is apparently referring to Struve’s article, “Again on Free
Will and Necessity,” published in 1897 in issue No.8 of the magazine
Novoye Slovo ( New Word ). In this article

Strove

declared himself openly against the Marxist theory of the proletarian
revolution. On June 27 (July 9), 1899, Lenin wrote to Potresov: “One
thing I do not understand—how could Kamensky (Plekhanov.—
Ed .) leave unanswered the articles by Struve and Bulgakov against
Engels in Novoye Slovo! Can you explain this to me?”

[12]
This passage refers to Vademecum , a collection of articles and
documents for the Rabocheye Dyelo Editorial Board (1900) in which
Plekhanov published, among other documents, three private letters from
Z. M. Kopelson of the

Bond

and from an “economist” leader,
Y. D. Kuskova.

[13]
“ Our third man ” was L. Martov (Y. O. Zederbaum) who was in the South of Russia at the time Lenin and Potresov conducted their
negotiations with the Emancipation of Labour group and who did not go
abroad until March 1901.

[14]
Bobo —P. B. Struve.

[15]
Die Neue Zeit ( New Times )—theoretical publication of German Social-Democracy. Appeared in Stuttgart from 1883 to
1923. Several articles by Frederick Engels appeared in its columns between
1885 and 1895. Engels frequently offered points of advice to the editors of Die Neue Zeit and severely criticised them for
departing from Marxism. In the late 1890s, after Engels’ death, the
journal, which expounded Kautskian views, made a practice of publishing
articles by revisionists. During the First World War (1914—18) the
publication adopted a Centrist position and actually supported the
social-chauvinists.

[16]
These were former members of the Union of Russian Social-Democrats Abroad
who, after the split at the Second Congress of the Union, in April 1900,
broke with the opportunist majority and united with the Emancipation of
Labour group to form the Sotsial Demokrat group.

[17]
N .— the city of Nuremberg which Lenin visited on his way
from Geneva to Munich after the conference between the Iskra and
the Emancipation of Labour groups.