The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1924-02-13
By CHARLES AsHLEIGH.

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(This impression of Lenin's last
speech is written by the English
poet and journalist, who served
two and half years imprison-
ment in Leavenworth Penitentiary,
for l. w. w. activity, and was de-
ported to England.)
lit was during the Fourth World
1 Congress of the Communist In
ternational.
The Congress was held in the
Nikolaevsky Palace-the Moscow res
idence of the Czars-in the Kremlin.
It is a huge place, with great halls
and corridors, with something of
grandeur about them despite the
glaring vulgarity of their marble,
gilt and mirrored decorations.
We knew that Lenin was to speak
at the Congress, and that the time
for his address was nearing. We
knew, too, all of us, that Vladimir
Ilyitch's health was none too good.
In the corridor outside the Con-
gress rooms, and in the great hall
where once Court Lcvees were held
where we used to promenade between
sessions, the question was continually
being asked, when is Lenin going
to speak?" In all languages we
could hear it as we surged up and
down the hall, taking our brief ex-
ercise. Big blond Scandinavians, ami
mated Italians, loose-gaited Ameri-
cans, Englishmen-looking intensely
and rather systematically English
amid this molly gathering-French-
men, Turks, Bulgars and a score of
other nationalities; revolutionists
from every corner of the world, hard
bitten, class-war veterans from al
most every prison in the world, they
were eager, like simple children, to
see and hear Lenin. 1t was not just
curiosity however; it was not alone
their respect for man who had con-
tributed SO much new thought to
revolutionary history; it was also
affection.
For Lenin was loved; and loved by
well as by revo,utionaries. l have
seen old peasant women, in Russian
country towns, gathered round the
bulletin which announced the state of
Lenin's health, listening to some one
reading it aloud to them. And have
seen the tears streaming down the
faces Of these old women, as they
crossed themselves, over and over
again. crying, "God hep our Vladimir
llyitch," Christ restore him to health
again!" They knew nothing of the
theories of Communism, these simple
people. but they loved Lenin, and
trusted him. They loved him as one
Of themselves, with a sort Of broth
erly familiarity, entirely untouched
by all.
And so we waited to hear this man
who had our respect and our love.
remember that was in the press
bureau that day, in the great hall Of
palace where scores Of typewriters
were clicking out the news Of the
Congress, in many languages, so that
the workers, the world over, might
know what was taking place.
Some one came hurrying in. "The
Old Man is going TO speak," II was
In these familiar terms that Lenin
was affectionately known TO us Of
the English-speaking nationalities.
We hurried into the Congress hall.
The platform was overcrowded. At
the long searlet-covered table Of the
Presidium sat Zinoviev, Radek, Blu
charm, and others, still and intent.
suddenly the delegates arose. A
rather short, stocky man had walked
nriskly onto the platform. Yes, he
Fad walked briskly enough, but there
was a doctor and nurse with him.