"Ethics" is the work that the "anarchist prince" Peter Kropotkin (1842-1921) co-wrote in the last years of his life and left unfinished. The revolutionary (Trotskyist) Victor Serge writes in his "Memoirs": "In February 1921, the elderly Kropotkin died in Dimitrov. He did not wish for me to visit him, as I feared a painful encounter. He still believed that the Bolsheviks had taken money from the Germans, etc.

Knowing that he lived in the cold and darkness, writing "Ethics" and occasionally playing a little piano for relaxation, my friends and I sent him a large package of candles. I knew what he wrote in his letters to Lenin about the nationalization of libraries and the intolerance. If one day they are published, we will see with what fervor Kropotkin condemned the dangers of directed thinking.

I went to Moscow for his funeral on February 10, and it was an emotional time, with biting cold during the time of great hunger. I was the only member of the Communist Party that the anarchists accepted as a comrade. Around his body, which was displayed for viewing at the House of the Trade Unions in the hall with columns, incidents occurred continuously, despite the good-natured discretion of the Bolshevik envoy Kamenev.

The shadow of the Cheka was everywhere, but the crowd gathered thickly and passionately, turning the funeral into an impressive demonstration. Kamenev had promised to release all imprisoned anarchists for a day. Thus, Aaron Baron and Yartsuk came and stood as an honor guard at the body.

Kropotkin looked like a sleeping magician, while angry voices around him said that the Cheka did not keep its promise, that the prisoners would decide to go on hunger strike, that so-and-so would be arrested, that shootings continued in Ukraine... For a black flag, for a speech, lengthy negotiations were taking place, enraging the people.

The long procession, guarded by students linked arm-in-arm, marched towards the Novoye Nevichi cemetery with songs and black flags, with slogans against the new tyranny. At the cemetery, a pale winter sun shone. The grave had been dug beneath a silver birch tree. [On its trunk someone had carved: Here lies P. A. Kropotkin.]

The representative of the Bolshevik Central Committee Mostovenko and the representative of the International Rosmer spoke reconciliatory words. Aaron Baron, who had been arrested in Ukraine and would return to prison that evening (never to come out again), raised his frail body. Bearded, with gold glasses, he passionately protested against the new despotism, against the executioners working in the basements, against the disgrace of socialism, against the governmental violence that was crushing the revolution.

With courage and passion, it seemed he was sowing new storms. The government established a Kropotkin Museum, gave Kropotkin's name to schools, and promised to publish his works. On February 28, the Kronstadt rebellion broke out.