THE TRIAL OF THE FOURTEEN—RECOLLECTIONS OF VERA FIGNER—NUMEROUS
IMPRISONMENTS—“AGENTS PROVOCATEURS”
When I told the old governor that I was engaged on no plan of escape, I
spoke the simple truth. After my establishment in this prison I felt too
much wearied out to think of any such matter. Beyond everything else I
wanted rest, to recover myself after the frightful tension of the last
months. Naturally the desire for freedom did not leave me; no human
being in my circumstances could entirely abandon the thought of it. But
it remained for the time being in the background of my consciousness; I
felt I had not the energy to strive seriously for its fulfilment.
Time at first passed peacefully and quietly; I read a good deal, and
talked with my new friends. What they had to tell was in part new to me,
and very interesting. I had known nothing at all about the particulars
of their trial. It remains to this day an isolated case, in which nearly
all the accused were military or naval officers. Two of them, the naval
lieutenant Baron von Stromberg and Lieutenant Rogachev, were
executed.[49] What most interested me, however, and will most interest
others, was to hear about the heroine of this case, the celebrated Vera
Figner.[50] At that time her name was in everyone’s mouth, and for long
she was the most popular personage in revolutionary circles. All the
young people worshipped her; and the stories that were told of her
talent for organisation, her astonishing powers of invention, her
wonderful perseverance, untiring energy, and boundless readiness for
self-sacrifice, testified fully to the part she had played in our
movement. The dignified and unselfish conduct of this exceptional woman
impressed even the members of the court-martial that tried her.
Footnote 49:
The following were condemned to death, but the sentence was afterwards
changed to penal servitude for life: Captains Aschenbrenner and
Pohitònov, Second Lieutenant Alex. Tihonòvitch, Ensign Ivan Yuvatchov.
And besides these, Vera Figner and Ludmilla Wolkenstein.
Footnote 50:
See portrait, p. 112.
I had come to know Vera Figner personally in Petersburg, during the year
1877, at a time when she had already adopted the idea of going “among
the people.” Twenty-two years of age, slender and of striking beauty,
she was even then a noteworthy figure among the other prominent women
Socialists. Like so many other girls, she had thrown heart and soul into
the cause of the Russian peasants, and was ready and willing to
sacrifice everything to serve the people.
In the summer of 1879 I again came repeatedly in contact with her. While
two years before she had impressed me as a very young propagandist,
ready to accept without question the views of her comrades, she had now
formed her own independent and keenly logical powers of judgment. As I
have previously said, this was a time of hot discussion as to our future
programme. Some held the opinion that the whole strength of our party
should be concentrated on the terrorist struggle to overthrow the
existing machinery of State by attempting the lives of the Tsar and the
lesser representatives of despotism. Others contended that revolutionary
propaganda ought still to be tried and carried further than hitherto;
that revolutionists should work among the people, colonise the villages,
and instruct the peasants in the manner of the organisation _Zemlyà i
Vòlya_ (Land and Freedom). Vera Figner was one of the most strenuous
supporters of the former view.
I remember well, how once, when our whole circle had met together at
Lesnoye, a summer resort near Petersburg, we were arguing hotly with her
as to how propaganda among the peasantry might be made to yield the most
fruitful results. She had just returned from a small village on the
Volga, where she had been living as a peasant, for purposes of
propaganda. The impressions she had received there had stirred her
deeply, and she described in graphic language the fathomless misery and
poverty, the hopeless ignorance of the provincial working classes. The
conclusion she drew from it all was that under existing conditions there
was no way of helping these people.
“Show me any such way; show me how under present circumstances I can
serve the peasants, and I am ready to go back to the villages at once,”
she said. And her whole manner left no doubt of her absolute sincerity
and readiness to keep her word. But her experience had been that of many
others who had idealised “the people,” and also their own power of
stirring them; and we were none of us prepared with any definite counsel
that could deter her from the new path she had determined to
tread—simply because she could see no other leading to the desired end.
When I went to Odessa in the late autumn of the same year I found Vera
Figner there. In conjunction with Kibàltchitch, Frolènko,[51]
Kolotkèvitch, and Zlatopòlsky she was busy with preparations for an
attempt on the life of Alexander II., who was about to return to
Petersburg from Livadia. The dynamite was stored in her house; she had
now put aside all doubt, and devoted herself with her whole soul to
terrorist activity.[52]
Footnote 51:
See chap. xi. p. 98, note.—_Trans._
Footnote 52:
Kibàltchitch was executed for participation in the attempt against
Alexander II. in March, 1881. The others mentioned here were all
condemned to penal servitude for life and imprisoned in Schlüsselburg,
where Kolotkèvitch and Zlatopòlsky died. Frolènko is still alive
(1902).
She belonged to the Russian aristocracy; her grandfather had won a name
for himself in the guerrilla warfare against Napoleon’s invasion.
Inflexible determination and tireless perseverance were her most
prominent qualities; she was never contented with a single task, even
the most enthralling, but would carry on work in all sorts of different
directions simultaneously. While engaged in making ready for this
attempt on the Tsar’s life she was at the same time organising
revolutionary societies among the youth of the country, doing propaganda
work in the higher ranks of society, and helping us in Odessa with a
secret newspaper that we were starting for South Russia.
But Vera Figner was still only in the developing stage of her strength
and capacities. She was already highly esteemed by all who came near
her, winning their sympathy and confidence; yet even her greatest
friends could hardly suspect the depth of character possessed by this
radiantly beautiful girl. It was fully shown in 1882, when nearly all
her comrades of the _Naròdnaia Vòlya_ were in prison, and the few who
had escaped capture had fled into foreign countries; she resolutely
declined to entertain the idea of flight, though the danger of arrest
menaced her at every turn. In 1883 she fell a victim to the treachery of
Degàiev,[53] and was sentenced to death; but “by favour” this was
altered to lifelong penal servitude, and she was immured in the living
grave of the Schlüsselburg fortress, where she still is (1902).
Footnote 53:
See note, p. 43.
* * * * *
To return to my comrades in the Moscow prison, Spandoni and Tchuikòv;
besides their own narratives of their past experiences I could also
avail myself of their formal indictments, which they had with them. The
chief characteristic of these documents was their entire failure to show
any grounds for the exceptionally heavy sentences inflicted. I will set
down here what the Public Prosecutor had to say against these two
companions of my captivity.
“Athanasius Spandoni was connected with a secret printing press
discovered in Odessa in the house of the married couple Degàiev.” Thus
began the indictment, and it went on to state that he had refused to
make any confession, but that his membership of the secret society
_Naròdnaia Vòlya_ was sworn to by Mme. Degàiev, who also stated that he
had twice visited her house. That was absolutely all. Two visits to a
secret printing office were punished with fifteen years’ penal
servitude!
The “crime” of Tchuikòv was scarcely more serious. His indictment ran as
follows:—
“When Vera Figner was arrested in Kharkov, the authorities in that place
advised us that Vladimir Tchuikòv, among others, had been in
correspondence with her. His house being searched, there were found (1)
implements for setting up type, (2) implements for making false
passports, (3) prussic acid and morphia, (4) various seditious writings
(some printed, some in manuscript), (5) a list giving the names of
different political criminals, (6) lists for the collection of
subscriptions to the _Naròdnaia Vòlya_. Tchuikòv has acknowledged that
he agrees with the principles of the _Naròdnaia Vòlya_.” And on these
grounds he was condemned to twenty years’ penal servitude.
The charge brought against the rest of the accused in this case, the
naval and military officers, were of a similar description; and for
these “crimes” they were all condemned to death, the sentence being
actually carried out as regards two of their number.
* * * * *
For a time we three were the only inmates of the Pugatchev tower, but we
were expecting other companions. In about a fortnight after my advent
the condemned in the already mentioned Shebalìn case were to arrive from
Kiëv—four sentenced to penal servitude and four to exile, among the
latter two women. We awaited their coming with the greatest interest,
but when the party arrived only two were brought to our tower, the
exiles Makàr Vasìliev and Peter Dashkièvitch. Paraskovya Shebalina and a
young girl, Barbara Shtchulèpnikòva, also condemned to exile, were of
course taken to the women’s quarters; but the four other men had quite
unexpectedly been sent off to Schlüsselburg, as the outcome of a
conflict with the prison authorities, of which I will give some
particulars.
I have already tried to give some idea of what all convicts must suffer
when their fetters are first put on and their heads shaved. Until the
time of which I write it had been customary (and still is, in the case
of anyone belonging to the “privileged classes”) to defer the
performance of this barbarous ceremony until arrival in Siberia at the
town of Tiumen. But it occurred to the officials that the condemned in
the Shebalìn case (_i.e._ Shebalìn, Pankràtov, Karanlov, and
Borisòvitch) should be fettered and shaved before their transfer to
Moscow. This was hotly resented by the victims themselves, and all the
other “politicals” in the Kiëv prison joined in their protest. The
authorities then employed force to carry out their intention, and
thereupon the prisoners “demonstrated” in the usual fashion, that is, by
breaking windows, destroying furniture, etc. The occurrence was reported
to Petersburg, and thence the order was at once received to send our
four comrades to Schlüsselburg. What that meant I have already
indicated: burial alive in a state of perpetual martyrdom. Most of the
unhappy victims die in a few years, others lose their reason, and many
purposely offer violence to the officials in order to win for themselves
a speedy execution. It is easy, then, to imagine our feelings on
receiving this news about our comrades, especially as there were some
among them at whose door no accusation of any consequence could be laid.
Karanlov, for instance, had only been sentenced to four years’ penal
servitude, the court-martial having found it impossible to inflict a
heavier punishment. He had thereupon married, as his wife would by law
be permitted to follow him to Siberia; and his imprisonment in
Schlüsselburg meant utter separation for them, as he would not even be
allowed to write to her.
The case of the Shebalìns was even more sad. The young wife had scarcely
parted from her husband when her child—an unweaned infant, whom she had
with her in prison—fell ill and died. She herself succumbed to her
grief, and late in the autumn died in the Moscow prison.
* * * * *
Soon after these arrivals there came fresh batches of “politicals,”
until the great prison was full to overflowing. The Lopàtin case
contributed many. Hermann Lopàtin is one of the best-known figures in
our Russian revolutionary movement. In 1884 he had returned from abroad
(whither he had earlier been obliged to flee), in order to resuscitate
the organisation of the _Naròdnaia Vòlya_, all the active members of
which were in prison in consequence of Degàiev’s treachery. Lopàtin had
almost to begin at the beginning again in reorganising that terrorist
society, and travelled for this purpose all over Russia, establishing
fresh connections everywhere. As he could not depend on his memory he
had to write down the names of members, with notes as to their capacity
for usefulness, and he kept the bit of paper with this list on it always
about his person, meaning to destroy it if in any danger. Unfortunately,
this proved impossible, for one day he was seized in the street by the
secret police and overpowered before he could manage to swallow the
compromising document, though he had actually got it into his mouth. All
whose names were on his list were, of course, arrested, and
imprisonments were made all over Russia. The numerous persons who were
sent to the central prison in Moscow in consequence of Lopàtin’s capture
were for the most part scarcely out of boyhood, and their guilt entirely
consisted in their being named in Lopàtin’s list.
One case that especially moved me was that of Rubìnok, a young student
from Moscow University, aged only nineteen, highly gifted, and developed
intellectually far beyond his years. He was condemned to three years’
exile in Eastern Siberia, and was eventually sent to one of the most
forsaken corners of the earth—in the province of Yakutsk, beyond the
arctic circle. While there he was somehow or other set upon by the
half-savage natives and nearly killed, in consequence of which violent
treatment he lost his reason and became permanently insane.
There was much said in our prison (and throughout Moscow, too) about the
fate of another young student of the Peter Rasoumòvsky Academy. His name
was Kovalièv; he had been arrested on some trifling count, and confined
in the police prison. A certain officer of the guard, Belino-Bshezòvsky,
was also there, under examination for some criminal offence. This
representative of our gilded youth entered into league with the
gendarmerie to take advantage of the young student’s inexperience; and
they planned no less than the concoction of a false attempt at
assassination. The officer pretended to Kovalièv that he himself
belonged to the revolutionists, and tempted the boy with the suggestion
of killing the Public Prosecutor of the Moscow Courts (the present
Minister of Justice, Mouravièv). The unwary youth fell into the trap,
and the _agent provocateur_ furnished him with a loaded revolver; then,
when Kovalièv was to be examined by the Public Prosecutor, he was
suddenly seized on his way to the office by the gendarmes (instructed,
of course, by Belino-Bshezòvsky), searched, and the weapon found on him.
He was at once charged with being caught in an attempt to murder the
Public Prosecutor. In his despair he tried to commit suicide, but was
prevented. The provocative rôle played by the gendarmerie was here too
flagrant to be concealed, and the representations of the victim’s father
were successful in rescuing him from their clutches. An order was sent
from Petersburg to hush up the affair. Rumours were current everywhere
that Mouravièv had been privy to the action of the gendarmerie, his
attempted assassination being designed to fix public notice upon him and
bring him to the front. But I have no means of knowing how far there was
any foundation for this report.