THE CITY OF TROUBLE.t
Miss BUCHANAN'S book is an interesting, lively, and picturesque account of her experiences at Petrograd from the beginning of the war till January, 1918, when her father, the British • (1)Britieh Atha., at the Front. Part IV. By This Heoninen. London: resift LIB. [60.1--(S) The Owe War. Paintinge by 0. H. W. Nevins.. London Grant 1150.1 (8)Brgith dresses at the Front Part In. 13y Paul Nash. London : Country We. [58.]-(i) Salvage. BY Sergeant Benign& Boyd. London !kWh Australasian. pa. ddj-(19 sfslattrale fhe &Stub Navy. By Pntocia Dodd. London : Country life. 15a.1--- (n) The Western Prong 100 Drawings by Mullin. Bone. Sane pat- hetic... 115.1 Cot Parograst : the C =Aiity ,J Trouble. 1514.1918. By Merle/ Buchan.. London llin. Ts. Od.
Ambassador, was permitted by Trotsky's Government to leave Russia. None too soon, for a few more months under that Terror would probably have meant far worse experiences, full as these actually were of mental if not bodily suffering. At the same time, it is curious to notice the never-failing spell of that extraordinary country, laid so strongly even on those fortunate enough to escape that one reads between Miss Buchanan's lines a real regret at no longer looking out from high windows on that square ; that wide river and bridges ; those distant palaces and fortresses where the red flag floated menacing ; that wonderful sky with its blue and rosy lights, in heat and frost alike beautiful ; those quays on which the great lorries tore by, laden with soldiers, or ragged crowds tramped shivering through the snow. We have seldom come scram a book that pictures Petrograd so vividly or helps a reader so successfully to understand the gradual, mysterious, terrible changes that broke up the old life of the city and brought thoee awful elements to the surface to do their still unfinished work.
Old Russia haunts Miss Buchanan's pages like a melanoholy, poetic refrain. Her impressions of the last winter, that of 1917-18, make perhaps the most attractive part of her book. For its interest is largely personal ; one has read elsewhere of the public events and historical scenes described; but this book shows what Petrograd was really like in those months of indis- criminate robbery and murder, of tremendous prices and &meaty of food, of the madness of starving mobs, of the bewildered in- discipline of soldiers, of darkened streets and hourly peril of massacre, to the eyes and hearts of those who knew and loved the city
" One wondered sometimes was this to be the end. The great red palace riddled by bullets the silent, empty Govern- ment buildings . . . the great gray shadow of the dome or St. Isaac's softened and dim in the opalooloured mist. And over the frozen river the walls of the Fortress, the Cathedral with the golden tombs of dead Emperors, the spire that was like a marvellous tongue of flame, a finger pointing to Heaven. What was to happen to all these ? The old mejesty, the old traditions of centuries, the faith that believed in miraelea- were they gone for ever ? The churches were almost empty now, only here and there in the gray shadows a solitary candle burnt before a jewelled ikon, or a woman knelt and wept before a oruoifix. The old Russia was dead indeed."
In this emptiness, through the nnprotected streets, in and out of " shops that had no goods, churches where nobody prayed," the British Ambassador's daughter appears to have moved about safely at her own will. We read of her walking home from a dinner-party, driving out with a friend in a sledge to attempt shopping, while heavy snowflakes fell and soldiers or sailors ordered her sledge down one street or another, and her grinning driver remarked : " Eh, Barina, life is not easy now. This is what they call Liberty ! Eh—God help us " Another driver said to Miss Buchanan in those last days " Eh, but it goes badly with us, and surely the Germans will come. God knows what will happen, but certainly the Allies will be angry with us. Is it not so ? England will no longer be our friend."
We find here many such glimpses into that soul of Russia with its pathetic appeal, which Miss Buchanan is very sure that "neither the Germans nor the Bolsheviks can kill," aid in which lies the hope of the future. In giving these moat enlightening glimpses and this expression of faith to the public, we agree with Mr. Hugh Walpole that Miss Buchanan has done Russia " a noble service." The larger the circulation of her book, the better for ever-mysterious &lege, and also for the rest of Europe.
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