A DEN OF NIHILISTS.
Let us open the records of Kief for the year 1879.
Fifteen years have elapsed since the events last narrated; fifteen years
of peace and plenty, of security and prosperity for Jew and gentile.
What sudden change do we behold! Is this the country whose future looked
so hopeful in the early days of Alexander's reign? Is this the people
who saw the golden promise of a constitutional government? Alas, for the
instability of human purpose! The reforms then instituted have been
revoked, the men who were the leaders in these reforms have been exiled
to Siberia. A period of reaction has set in: Despotism and Nihilism meet
face to face. The entire nation is in chains.
Russia during these troublous times presents a dreary picture. At a
period when the intellectual activity of Europe is at its height, she
still groans under the unrestricted despotism of an autocrat. Here the
effects of progress that obtain elsewhere seem inverted. Such advance as
is made in civilization and knowledge is used to buttress imperial
tyranny and the knout is wielded more cruelly than ever before. We
behold liberal institutions overthrown and a whole people held in
bondage worse than slavery. We hear of families torn asunder, of
innocent men condemned to life-long exile in Siberia, simply because
they have aroused the suspicion or incurred the ill-will of those in
authority. Force in its most brutal form holds sway throughout the
Empire.
What wonder then that the discontented masses writhe in their despair
and seek redress! What wonder that Nihilism should flourish and the
service of dynamite be enlisted to accomplish what moral suasion failed
to achieve! The years beginning with 1879 were disastrous for Russia.
They marked the decadence of those reforms which ten years before had
given promise of such glorious results.
In one of the most populous portions of Kief, in the shadow of the
Petcherskoi convent, stood a large, modern house. As is the case with
the generality of Russian dwellings, it was tenanted by a number of
families who came and went, beat their children, ill-treated their
servants and transacted their daily affairs, rarely becoming acquainted
with each other.
It was a many-storied building, of plain exterior. The lower floor was
occupied by the worthy family of Pavel Kodasky, a clerk in the employ of
the government. His wife filled the responsible position of _concierge_
to the immense house. The third and fourth floors were the abode of
families equally worthy but unimportant to our story, while the upper
floors were inhabited by a vast number of students and officers who, in
consideration of cheap rent and convenient proximity to the university
and the barracks, had here furnished themselves with comfortable
bachelors' quarters.
The second floor still remains to be spoken of. It was occupied by a
young officer of prepossessing appearance, who was widely known in the
aristocratic circles of Kief. The dark-eyed Russian beauties adored him
for his handsome bearing, his flashing eyes, his gallant and fearless
demeanor; the gay young officers and dandies that hovered about the
Governor's court admired him for his reckless habits, his daring
escapades and his lavish expenditure of a fortune which seemed
inexhaustible.
Loris Drentell, the young lieutenant of the Seventh Cossack Regiment,
might well be thankful to Fortuna for the gifts she had lavished upon
him. The reader will remember having met the young man before, when he
was but a baby in his nurse's arms at the Drentell villa at Lubny. The
promise he then gave of becoming a spoiled child was fully realized.
Indulged by his father and neglected by his mother, his every wish
gratified as soon as expressed, enjoying unlimited freedom in the use of
a vast fortune, Loris developed a disposition in which indolence,
recklessness and unprincipled ambition contended for the mastery. The
young man was unscrupulous and vindictive and he obeyed no law save that
of his own unbridled will. He was a type of a class of Russian
aristocrats whose social position and wealth enable them to tyrannize
over their associates and dependants.
Reckless and fearless as Loris was known to be, none suspected that this
gay and pampered youth, this officer of the Imperial troops, was the
acknowledged head of a Nihilist club. None but a chosen few knew that
this apparently peaceful dwelling, with its many stories and
multitudinous inhabitants, was the meeting-place of a powerful band of
would-be patriots, whose mission it was to inaugurate a constitutional
government by the aid of dynamite. Here was the unsuspected centre from
which thousands of Nihilist documents were scattered to the ends of
Russia. Here were concealed papers which if discovered would have
consigned many of the greatest in Russia to Siberia or the scaffold, and
here it was that the frightful engine of destruction--Nihilism--had its
cradle. So great was the caution observed by the members of the secret
organization that the wary and vigilant police did not dream of its
existence.
Loris was walking impatiently up and down his parlor, now looking at the
clock, now gazing expectantly through his window up and down the street.
"He is late," exclaimed the young man, anxiously. "I wonder what detains
him."
He began nervously to roll a cigarette, without however leaving his
watch at the window. Finally he smiled with satisfaction.
"At last," he cried, as he perceived his belated friend turn a corner
and hurry towards the house. "We shall soon have news from the
Governor."
There was a hasty knock at the door and a tall young fellow entered,
carefully locking the door behind him.
"Well, Paulowitch, I began to feel uneasy," said Loris. "What kept you
so late?"
"I have just arrived from Pomeroff's," whispered Paulowitch. "He had a
very large audience and it was some time before I could gain his ear."
"What was the result?" asked Loris, eagerly.
"He will come to-night. I told him that there would be a meeting of
officers in honor of your birthday and that we would like to have him
with us."
"Does he suspect anything?"
"How should he?"
"He will find out soon enough."
"You are mistaken, Loris, if you think he will join us. I know Pomeroff
too well. Although he has had much to suffer from the arbitrary rulings
of the Czar, the recollection of former favors will not permit him to
desert his Emperor."
"Mere sentimentality," answered Loris. "Do you forget how the Czar, in a
proclamation, publicly reprimanded him for allowing the Jews too many
liberties, and of harboring treasonable sympathy with them? I know that
Pomeroff has been smarting under the insult ever since. He will be glad
to have an opportunity of avenging himself."
Paulowitch shook his head, in doubt.
"And if, after having learned our secrets, he should refuse to join us?"
he asked.
"If he does not affiliate with us, we must render him harmless. We dare
not give him an opportunity to betray us."
"But what is to prevent him from informing the police of our plans and
having us all sent to Siberia?"
"We have foreseen such a possibility. Moleska, his secretary, who has
access to his desks and closets, and who is one of us, has full
instructions how to act in such an emergency."
"Poor Pomeroff," murmured Paulowitch. "I am sorry for him."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Loris; "we need him to insure our success. While
his police are prying about to discover something new, we are in
constant danger of detection and can accomplish little. If, however, he
declines to join us, we dare run no risk. He must be removed."
"In that event, who do you suppose will take his place?"
"I cannot say. But the arrest and execution or exile of the Governor
will cause such a disturbance in the affairs of the province that
several months must elapse before order is again restored. In the
meantime our association will flourish unimpeded. We will be able to
scatter our pamphlets and manifestoes broadcast, and to prepare
everything necessary for the final stroke, which shall rid us of the
imperial tyrant and pave the way for liberty."
There was a peculiar knock at the door and a man, in the garb of a
student and possessing a countenance that displayed rare intellect, was
admitted. The new-comer was about twenty-three years of age. In fact,
Martinski was one of the leaders of the order and most of its master
moves were conceived by him.
"Well," asked Loris, addressing him, "have the papers been forwarded?"
"Yes; both Myra Sergeitch and Paulovna Tschorgini left for St.
Petersburg at noon. The documents were concealed in secret compartments
of their trunks. There is no danger of detection."
"But if they should be found in spite of all precautions?" asked
Paulowitch.
"Bah! Who will suspect two inoffensive-looking women? Besides, the
messages were written in cipher which no one can read. Should the worst
happen, however, both ladies are devoted to the cause and would rather
die than betray us."
"Noble hearts," said Paulowitch, reflectively. "A cause like ours makes
heroes."
"Come," said Loris; "it is growing late. Let us take a stroll while our
landlady prepares the feast for to-night."
It was a large and heterogeneous assembly that partook of the cheer of
Loris' table that evening. There were a few army officers, some
students, two or three political writers and half-a-dozen young
noblemen, who, as a rule, possessed more money than brains. Supper was
already begun, and the expected guest, Governor Pomeroff, had not yet
made his appearance. The suspense was great, for it was felt that much
depended upon securing Pomeroff as an ally. Few doubted that he would
join them, for he, if any one, had just cause to detest the Czar, and
the arrangements made to prevent disclosures would not be needed.
After a long wait, during which the conspirators conversed in an
undertone, the door was opened and the Governor entered in company with
Paulowitch. He appeared surprised to find himself in so large a company,
when he had expected to meet but a few intimate friends, but he greeted
all cordially and sat down in the place of honor accorded him.
The conversation was comparatively uninteresting during the progress of
the repast. There was none of that conviviality which one is accustomed
to find at a friendly banquet; each member of the circle appeared
constrained and nervous in the presence of his comrades and an undefined
suspicion that he had been decoyed into a trap of some kind flashed
through Pomeroff's brain. Drinking, rather than eating, formed the chief
part of the entertainment and the spirits of the party rose as the
bottles were emptied.
Suddenly Loris sprang to his feet and lifting his glass proposed the
toast:
"To his excellency, the Governor of Kief, the champion of liberty, the
enemy of the autocrat at St. Petersburg!"
"Long may he live!" shouted his associates.
Pomeroff sat in his chair as if thunderstruck. The suspicion which up to
this moment had but faintly suggested itself had become a terrible
certainty. As soon as he could master his excitement he arose.
"Gentlemen," he began, endeavoring to smile, "what jest is this? You
are certainly in error. Allow me to correct it. I drink to the health
and long life of his majesty the Czar!"
A storm of hisses greeted this toast and Pomeroff, after trying in vain
to make himself heard above the din, sat down. His face was pale and his
frame shook with suppressed anger.
Quiet was finally restored and Martinski rose and addressed the meeting,
speaking more directly to the Governor. He rehearsed the outrages
committed upon submissive Russians by the Czar Nicholas, whose despotic
government had finally driven the country into the disastrous Crimean
War. He spoke in terms of praise of the noble aims and ambitions of
Alexander during the early years of his reign, only to denounce in
unmeasured terms the reaction which had destroyed the little good that
had been accomplished. He depicted the cruelty and the tyranny practised
by the Czar upon those who had incurred his displeasure, the utter lack
of educational facilities and the consequent ignorance of the masses,
the rigorous censorship of the press and the arbitrary rule of the men
in power. He pictured in vivid colors the cruelties of Siberian exile
and the sufferings of the prisoners in those distant mines, from which
there was no escape but through the valley of death.
"But," continued he, warming up to a genuine outburst of eloquence,
"there is still a lower depth; a dungeon, a human slaughter-house
rather, has recently been contrived, the horrors of which surpass
anything hitherto conceived by man. It is the Troubetzkoi Ravelin, where
convicts condemned upon the most trivial charges are confined for life;
a hell for those for whom the mines of Siberia are not considered
severe enough. Compared to this prison, the Bastile of France was a
palace of luxury. Woe to him who is obliged to enter this frightful
place: hardships, hunger, disease and insanity await him.
"The convicts of Siberia cry to us for help. The scurvy-stricken
prisoners of the Troubetzkoi Ravelin appeal to us to avenge their wrongs
upon the author of their misfortunes. The French destroyed their
Bastile. Why should we not also demolish our dungeons before we
ourselves are called upon to fill them. O, Russia, how pitiable is your
condition! 'Despotism has blasted the high hopes to which the splendid
awakening of the first half of the century gave birth. The living forces
of later generations have been buried by the Government in the Siberian
snows or Esquimaux villages. It is worse than the plague, for that comes
and goes, but the Government has oppressed the country for years and
will continue to do so. The plague strikes blindly but the present
régime chooses its victims from the flower of the nation, taking all
upon whom depend the fortune and glory of Russia. It is not a political
party that they crush, it is a nation of a hundred millions that they
stifle. That is what the Czar has done.'[14] Down with such despotism!
Down with its instigator, the Czar!"
At these concluding words, the whole party arose and, holding out their
right hands in token of allegiance to their cause, they repeated the
cry:
"Down with the Czar!"
For a few moments absolute silence reigned. Then Governor Pomeroff
struggled to his feet.
"I fear I am out of place here," he began. "You will do me the favor to
remember that I came here ignorant of your purposes. Whatever cause you
may have for complaint, you have taken the wrong means for correcting
your grievances. Rest assured, gentlemen, that I sympathize with your
troubles, even though I cannot agree with your method of changing the
condition of things. I promise, moreover, to forget what I have heard
and beg of you to excuse me from further attendance." And bowing
politely, the Governor moved towards the door.
"Stop!" cried Loris, excitedly, barring the passage and leading the
Governor back to his seat. "Do you for a moment imagine that after
having heard our deliberations and learned our secrets you will be
allowed to leave here and denounce us? It is too late for you to
retreat. You have cast your fortunes with us and must share our dangers
and our glory."
"You mistake," answered the Governor, proudly. "I came to a feast, not
to a conspiracy. Your motive for bringing me here is not known to me,
but if it is to make me a traitor to my country and my Czar you do not
know me. A Pomeroff has never yet stooped to treason. Again I say, let
me go!"
"Governor, hear me," now said Martinski, in a tone of persuasion. "We
need your assistance. Without your sympathy we are in constant fear of
detection from your officers; with you on our side we can continue our
noble work without fear of molestation. The work will go on, the
glorious end will be achieved in spite of all difficulties, and our
labors will only end when the Czar lies buried with his ancestors. Ours
is not a society for wilful destruction of life or property. Our aims
are just. We demand a general amnesty for political offenders and a
convocation of the people for the framing of a liberal constitution, and
meanwhile we demand as provisional concessions freedom of the press,
freedom of speech and freedom of public meetings. These are the only
means by which Russia can enter upon the path of peaceful and regular
development. We will be content with nothing less. We will turn to
dynamite, only when all else fails. Governor Pomeroff, will you join us
in the attainment of these rights, which every civilized nation already
possesses?"
"No!" thundered the Governor, his eyes flashing.
"Then I beg to call your excellency's attention to the fact that a trip
to Siberia or to the gallows as a condemned Nihilist awaits you."
The Governor turned pale, but remained silent.
"Think not that we have rushed blindly into this danger," continued
Martinski. "It was necessary to have you on our side or out of the way.
Therefore, we brought you here this evening. We have carefully weighed
our chances. Having made you our confidant we dare not jeopardize our
lives by allowing you your liberty. By to-morrow you would have us all
in chains. We therefore offer you the alternative of joining our
fraternity or of being denounced to-morrow as an enemy of the Czar."
"I refuse to identify myself with a band of assassins," answered
Pomeroff, boldly. "Throughout my life I have ever striven to be on the
side of right and justice, have ever protected the oppressed and
assisted those who came to me for help. I have been loyal to my Czar and
to my country. I will not now be frightened into doing that which my
nature loathes and against which every fibre of my body revolts. I defy
your power and laugh at your threats. You leave me no alternative but
to inform his majesty of this diabolical plot upon his life."
"And you leave us no alternative but to render you harmless," replied
Martinski. At these words, all arose and silently surrounded the
Governor.
Pomeroff had by this time forced his way to the door which he tried to
open. It was locked. Pale with anger, he turned upon the Nihilists.
"Cowards!" he hissed, "you would force me to join your fraternity. Then
I give you my brotherly greeting," and, drawing his pistol, he fired
into the group.
Loris was wounded in the side, but the ball striking a rib glanced off.
A dozen men threw themselves upon the Governor, who defended himself
with the strength of despair; but superior numbers quickly gained the
mastery, and after a short struggle Pomeroff lay helpless upon the
floor.
Then one of the students took a vial of chloroform from his pocket.
Seizing a napkin he saturated it with the liquid and applied it to the
nostrils of the prostrated man. In a few minutes the victim was
insensible.
"Flee for your lives!" ordered Martinski, "we have not a moment to lose.
It is fortunate that the shot has not already brought the police down
upon us. We must carry the Governor at once to his palace. Drentell, you
will pass the night with me."
Under cover of a dark and cloudy night Pomeroff was carried to his home,
and with the assistance of his secretary, Moleska, was carefully placed
upon the couch in his private cabinet.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 14: Stepniak.]