to see the people. I am amazed when I read
of how carefully I was chaperoned in Moscow
and what great care was taken to see that honour
was done me. One set of spell binders assert
that Moscow was illuminated in my honour ;
another that I only visited places chosen for
me. The following proves how silly and untrue
such statements are. One night, as usual,
without giving any previous notice, I suddenly
said that I would like to go to the theatre
and asked my press colleagues if they would
go with me. We asked our interpreter to
ring up and try and get us seats. He came
back beaming : we were to have the Czar’s
box at the national theatre. So off we went
only on arrival to discover that a couple of
working class families had got there before us
and we had to be content with the next box,
which was, of course, just as good.
I was not much interested in the play—which was one of Strindberg’s—mainly because, although I know a little of the plot I could not understand the language, and as there was enough tragedy without seeing it acted I refused to get interested. But I was intensely interested in the audience which was in the main working class : there was no mistaking it—in dress, demeanour, and everything else it was an audience of workers, and best of all their women and children were with them. They occupied the whole house from the floor
