A MODERN BRUTUS.
When Pomeroff awoke next morning, he rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked
about him.
"By St. Nicholas, I have had a horrible dream," he muttered. "I must
have slept on this couch all night."
On attempting to rise, however, he felt a soreness in every limb and the
events of the preceding night flashed through his mind. Instantly his
face became grave.
"Can it be that I have not been dreaming after all; that I was really in
the lair of the Nihilists? Bah, it must be a mistake!"
He arose with difficulty and opened the window. It was a glorious day.
The birds were chirping merrily in the trees that shaded the courtyard,
but though the sun was high there were no signs of the usual activity
below.
"It must be early," mused the Governor; "no one is stirring. What!" he
cried, looking at his watch, "ten o'clock! There is something wrong."
He crossed the room and tried to open the door leading to the
ante-chamber. It was locked. He tried a smaller door leading to the rear
of the palace. It, too, was locked and resisted his efforts to open it.
With a cry of anger and surprise, Pomeroff exclaimed:
"This is carrying the farce to extremes. So I am a prisoner in my own
house! Can it be that they will carry out their diabolical threats and
have me tried as a suspect? Nonsense! I will subvert their plans and
turn the tables on them."
He rang the bell violently, but there was no response. As a last resort
he hurled his whole weight against the oaken door, but it remained
immovable.
It appeared probable to him that his enemies would carry out their
threat of accusing him, and he carefully mapped out his line of defence.
He would prove that he had innocently walked into a trap, set for him by
a band of conspirators, who had planned to assassinate the Czar, and
that he had used every argument to dissuade them from their murderous
project. He would prove that he had firmly refused to join their ranks,
and that he had been obliged to use his pistol in his effort to escape
from their midst.
Prove it? How? A little reflection showed him that he had no proofs
whatever and that he was absolutely powerless to defend himself against
any charges that they might bring. Wearied with his vain exertions and
furious at his helplessness, he threw himself upon the sofa. As he
became calmer he began to reflect upon his situation.
Slowly the hours passed without affording relief. About noon Pomeroff
heard the key turn in the lock and an instant later the apartment was
filled with officers of the _gendarmerie_.
The Chief of Police, Polatschek, was the first to break the silence.
"I regret, your excellency," he said, sadly, "that I am obliged to take
this step against one who has been my friend and benefactor, but the
Czar's orders are imperative. You will consider yourself my prisoner."
"Of what am I accused?" asked the Governor.
"You are accused of associating with Nihilists and of being at the
present time involved in a plot to take the Czar's life."
"It is false," cried Pomeroff.
"We will hear your defence in due time," answered Polatschek. "In the
meantime it becomes my unpleasant duty to search your desk and closets
for Nihilistic papers, which the deposition accuses you of having in
your possession."
Pomeroff smiled bitterly.
"Search, gentlemen. The absence of such documents will, I hope, convince
you that I am innocent of this outrageous charge."
"Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to see you vindicated," said
the Chief, politely, as he gave orders to ransack the drawers and
receptacles of the Governor's writing-desk.
Alas, poor Pomeroff! Almost the first roll of papers examined proved of
a most damaging nature, being the rules of an association of Nihilists
in St. Petersburg. A further search revealed plans of a dynamite mine to
be laid beneath the imperial palace at the capital.
In vain were all the Governor's denials. Never was proof of guilt more
complete and convincing, and Polatschek, who was almost as much unnerved
by the discovery as the prisoner, reluctantly gave orders to seize and
secure the unfortunate man, and Pomeroff was hurried away to the house
of detention, to await his trial.
Since the beginning of the so-called terrorist period, and the first
attack upon the life of the Czar, a short time before the occurrence of
the above events, the trial of political offenders had been taken from
the civil tribunals and transferred to the military. Even counsel for
the prisoner must be an army officer. The court to try Governor Pomeroff
was hastily convened next morning. Instructions concerning the judgment
to be rendered were telegraphed from St. Petersburg and the military
judges had but to obey their imperial mandate. Under such conditions
the trial was a mere form. The evidence against the prisoner was
positive. Within an hour Pomeroff, who had no opportunity of saying a
word in his defence, was sentenced to death.
"The secret 'council of ten' that once terrorized Venice, and which,
without process of law, condemned men to punishment upon secret charges,
preferred by unknown accusers, often where no crime had been committed,
has long been regarded as the most odious form of injustice. Yet the
Russian system of to-day is quite as repugnant to every idea of justice.
Men who have never been tried, nor perhaps even accused, but who are
simply suspected by the police, are often without the slightest
investigation hurried into exile or death."[15]
On the following morning, Governor Pomeroff, the just and merciful, the
friend and protector of the Jews, was secretly executed in the fortress
of Kief.
Excitement was at fever heat. The Governor was beloved by all. Never had
the province been so well governed as during his administration.
Among the Jews whom Pomeroff had especially befriended the grief was
deep and sincere. Rabbi Mendel Winenki, in an address to his
congregation, fearlessly denounced a system by which an innocent man
could be put to death. In the synagogues the _kaddish_ (prayer for the
dead) was recited as for a beloved parent. In consequence of these
demonstrations the authorities warned the Jews that any further
expressions of disapproval of the Government's course would be severely
punished.
Well might the Jews mourn their friend and protector. With his death
their bright hopes and dreams, their prospects of emancipation, were
rudely dispelled.
Within a week of Pomeroff's execution Count Dimitri Drentell, our old
acquaintance whom we left at Lubny and whom the Crimean War had made a
General, arrived in Kief as its future Governor.
While the majority of the inhabitants of the province were indifferent
as to which creature of the imperial autocrat oppressed them, there were
two classes who viewed the change with great misgivings: the Jews and
the band of agitators to which Loris Drentell, the new Governor's son,
belonged. The Jews had learned from their co-religionists in Poltava of
the implacable hatred Dimitri bore their race. They had for fifteen
years basked in the sunshine of Pomeroff's favor, but now trembled at
the dismal prospect before them.
The Nihilists had equal cause for fear. Their safety required a Governor
who could be controlled or hoodwinked by them. But they well knew that
this man was unapproachable, that neither bribes nor threats would avail
to win him over. Besides, Loris felt that by remaining the leader of the
Nihilist Club he would come in conflict with his father. The elder
Drentell was not merely the civil Governor of Kief--he was also one of
the Generals appointed by the Czar with unlimited power to punish the
guilty; with the right to exile all persons whose stay he might consider
prejudicial to public welfare; to imprison at discretion; to suppress or
suspend any journal, and to take all measures that he might deem
necessary for public safety. With a man of such vast powers, it was
dangerous for even a beloved son to trifle. For the time being,
therefore, the Nihilists were doomed to inactivity.
General Drentell began his administration with a careful examination of
the evidence which had caused the condemnation of his predecessor. He
had a strong conviction that Pomeroff was innocent, but if guilty he
felt it his duty to ferret out the conspiracy and discover Pomeroff's
accomplices. He owed it to his own safety to purge the palace of such as
might be there.
With the skill of a trained detective, and with the utmost secrecy, he
began the work. His first investigations were made in the palace which
he was henceforth to occupy. Drentell soon discovered that Moleska,
Pomeroff's secretary, had duplicate keys to the desk and closets in the
private cabinet. If Pomeroff was innocent, this would explain the
presence of the incriminating papers in the Governor's desk. Acting
entirely upon this suspicion, he ordered the arrest of Moleska, who,
overcome by terror, confessed the entire plot.
On the following day, Loris was hastily summoned into the Governor's
presence. He found his father striding up and down the apartment, a prey
to the most violent agitation.
"You have sent for me, father?" said the young man.
"Yes; sit down," answered Drentell, curtly. "Have you ever read the
history of Rome?"
Loris opened his eyes wide at the unexpected question.
"Why do you ask?"
"Answer my question. Have you ever read the history of Rome?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember the story of Brutus, whose son was engaged in a
conspiracy against the republic?"
Loris became very pale and stammered an indistinct reply.
"You do; I see it in your face! Tell me how did Brutus act towards his
son?"
"He condemned him to death," faltered Loris.
"Right! He condemned him to death. The malefactor paid the penalty with
his life."
The General arose and again paced up and down the room, in a vain
attempt to control his agitation.
"What have these questions to do with me?" asked Loris, nervously.
"Simply this," answered the Governor, coming to a sudden stop before his
son, while his eyes flashed and big blue veins stood out upon his
forehead: "I have proofs that my predecessor died an innocent man. I
have also the names of those Nihilists who should have suffered in his
stead. Shall I tell you whose name is at the head? My duty is clear. I
should follow the example of Brutus and deliver my son into the hands of
the law."
Loris, a thorough coward at heart, sank into a chair.
"Father," he stammered; "you would not condemn me to death; me, your
only child?"
"Coward!" cried the General, looking scornfully at his son, whom terror
had robbed of strength to stand. "You have the courage to plan
cold-blooded murder, but when the time comes to face your own death you
show yourself a miserable poltroon. Fear nothing: you shall not die. I
have passed a sleepless night, struggling between duty and parental
affection. But were it known in St. Petersburg that I had shown you
mercy, I would answer for it with my life."
"Father!" exclaimed the young man, remorsefully, hiding his face in his
hands.
"Don't interrupt me," said the General, savagely. "I have already
requested the immediate removal of your regiment to the frontier. The
Turks are aggressive, and our forces in that neighborhood should be
increased. By to-morrow you will receive your order to march. It is
absolutely necessary that you should leave Kief. Of your misguided
companions, Moleska, who revealed the conspiracy, is already in the
fortress, and the others will soon follow. For your own safety, you must
leave Kief before the arrests are made, or I will not answer for the
consequences."
"But, father, you will be lenient towards them," cried the young man.
"You will not condemn them to death. Remember that whatever may have
been their guilt, had it not been for the death of Pomeroff, you would
not now be Governor of Kief."
"For shame, Loris!" cried the General, red with anger. "Are you so lost
to all sense of honor that you must remind me that I stepped into office
over the corpse of my predecessor and my friend, murdered by my own son?
Do not provoke me too far! Your associates have been guilty of the most
grievous of crimes. They must die. Besides, were they to live they would
denounce you as their leader and even I could not save your life. Go!
Arrange your affairs, avoid further intercourse with your companions. By
this time to-morrow you must be on the way to the frontier while they
will mount the scaffold."
Loris shuddered and for the first time a sentiment of humanity moved
within him.
"I will not go," he said, resolutely. "I have lived and plotted with
them and I shall die with them."
"No, Loris, no," replied his father, softened. "You must depart. There
is no other course. A Drentell must not die a traitor's death. It would
break my heart and kill your mother, who dotes upon you. It will be
better not to see her before your departure. Questionings and
explanations are dangerous. After all this is forgotten, you may return
and work out the career I had hoped for you."
Loris, sorrowful and conscience-stricken, kissed his father's hand and
slowly left the room.
On the morrow, the Seventh Cossack Regiment received orders from St.
Petersburg to proceed to Kothim without delay, and long before nightfall
it was on the march. Next morning twelve conspirators were arrested at
their homes and dragged before the tribunal of judicial inquiry. Their
trial, like that of Pomeroff, was a mockery, for their fate had already
been decided. Defence was useless. The incriminating papers found in the
places designated by the informer Moleska sealed their doom. Governor
Drentell himself pronounced their sentence. Two days afterward they were
secretly executed.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 15: Foulke.]