the origin of the Kishineff Pogrom in 1903 in greater detail. In the
Pogrom of April 1903, forty-two Jews were killed, and the survivors
incurred material damage amounting to at least a million roubles
(£100,000). What were its causes? Prince Ourousov deals first with the
theory that it was directly initiated by the Minister of the Interior.
He disbelieves in this theory for two reasons: first, that in the
Department of the Secret Police, to which he had access before going to
Kishineff, and in which he made a searching investigation in all that
related to Kishineff, there was not a hint that the Administration was
inclined to consider desirable any anti-Jewish riots whatever or even
anti-Jewish demonstrations. Moreover, at this moment this Department
was in charge of M. A. Lopouchin, who has become famous for having
brought to light the anti-Jewish propaganda of certain police officials
in the autumn of 1905, which led to Pogroms, a man who was, and is,
well known for his straightness and his strong Liberal bias. Secondly,
Prince Ourousov does not believe Plehve to have been capable of such
gross thoughtlessness as to place proof of his complicity in the hands
of a Governor whom he scarcely knew, and whom he did not trust. Raaben
was, moreover, a gentleman; he paid little attention to his superiors,
and lived on excellent terms with the Jews, towards whom he acted with
great tolerance. Moreover, he was summarily dismissed on account of the
Pogrom, and was not rehabilitated in the public service until after the
death of Plehve.
Prince Ourousov then considers the theory that the Pogrom was a
sudden and irrepressible outburst of long-suppressed fury, a payment
of old scores, a movement of elemental force and anger against the
Jewish race. He holds that this explanation is one-sided, untrue, and
entirely artificial. “It is impossible to deny,” he writes, “that in
the governments inhabited by the Jews, Jews will be more easily the
objects of assault and robbery than any one else. And the chief causes
of this are the special laws which develop among the population a
special point of view with regard to the Jews, namely, that they are
citizens without rights, and a dangerous element in the State. One
can admit that in certain cases questions of race and religion cause
the Jews to clash with the rest of the population ... there are also
complaints of Jewish exploitation, although they far more often proceed
from the outside observers of this exploitation than from among the
people exploited. But all these reasons are not sufficient to cause a
Pogrom; an immediate cause is necessary for the explosion of popular
passions, and it has been impossible to discover that immediate cause;
on the other hand, in Kishineff in 1903 certain phenomena were
observed. The daily Press played a large part in preparing a suitable
frame of mind for a Pogrom among the population, and the preponderant
part was played by the local newspaper of Kroushevan (the notorious
anti-Jewish agitator), and publications issued in St. Petersburg of
similar colour. These newspapers were filled with accusations against
the Jews, and with facts and comments calculated to stir up popular
passion. The authority of Kroushevan, in the eyes of his readers, was
to a certain extent strengthened by the open protection he received
from the chief administrative Department dealing with the Press, the
result of which made it impossible for the local administration to
moderate the anti-Jewish ardour. (Prince Ourousov develops this point
at length, pointing out that complaints against the violence of the
local Press had no result. The agitators were looked upon by the Press
authorities in St. Petersburg as patriots.) The action of the police
in Kishineff, as probably in other places, where the Jewish population
preponderated, gave rise to the view that anti-Jewish action was looked
on with favour, and the conviction became widely spread among the
ignorant masses that there was no penalty for hostile action against
the Jews; so much so that the legend arose in Kishineff that the
Emperor had authorised a three days’ Pogrom in Kishineff, and early on
the morning of the third day of the disorders a crowd of peasants was
stopped by a police officer; they had come from a neighbouring village
in full consciousness of a duty to be performed: to beat the Jews,
by order of the Emperor. I am especially anxious to underline this
characteristic of the Kishineff Pogrom. The chief motive of the rioters
was neither hatred nor revenge, but the fulfilment of such action
which in the opinion of some coincided with the aims and desires of
the Government, and in the opinion of others was even authorised, and
finally in the eyes of the ignorant peasantry was the fulfilment of the
Imperial Word. Therefore, in my opinion, it is impossible to absolve
the Central Administration from _moral_ responsibility in the Kishineff
plunderings and murders. I consider our Government guilty on account
of the patronage afforded to a narrow Nationalist idea, on account of
its short-sighted and summary dealings towards the provinces inhabited
by alien races, and on account of the fact that this policy fostered
mutual hatred and distrust among the various nationalities; finally,
because the central power encouraged these brutal phenomena, which
disappear as soon as the Government openly declares that Pogroms are a
crime for which the local administration will have to answer.”
Prince Ourousov concludes, therefore, that whereas the idea that
Plehve had deliberately organised anti-Jewish riots is a legend,
nevertheless his Government cannot be absolved from the suspicion that
it exerted indirect influence on the riots through the action of minor
anti-Jewish-minded officials who knew that their action would not
meet with disapproval alone, and by its constant refusal to check the
violence of the anti-Jewish Press. If one realises, therefore, that
the Pogrom was not a natural and fortuitous occurrence, it is morally
not difficult to say that it was effected “by order.” But the chief
cause of the mischief which makes such riots possible is the existence
of the special legislation to which the Jews are subjected in Russia.
As long as one part of the population is legally and civilly inferior
to another part, the legally superior portion will always, especially
if it consists of uneducated peasants, think that it is acting
patriotically in ill-treating the legally inferior portion. Moreover,
the endless bother incurred by every small official, owing to the
carrying out or the neglect of the innumerable preventive regulations
respecting the Jews, is sufficient in itself to embitter the local
officials against the Jews. I have selected this portion of Prince
Ourousov’s book out of many other interesting things, and dwelt upon it
at length, because the question is still vital and actual.
Anti-Jewish riots occurred in Odessa in August 1907. The violence of
the anti-Jewish Press and the reluctance of the central authorities
to keep it in check were as much features then as they were in 1903.
When a newly appointed Governor-General declared in Odessa that he was
not afraid of protecting the Jews because he considered them equal in
the eyes of the law to other citizens, he was considered to have done
an act of daring courage. Finally, it is plain not only from Prince
Ourousov’s book, but also from the experience of all capable officials
in Russia, that as soon as energetic measures are taken against
anti-Jewish agitators the riots cease. Only the sad fact remains that,
as Prince Ourousov points out, since 1903 there is not a high post in
Russia which has not changed hands: but the unfortunate thing is that
the changes have one and all been for the worse; for M. Stolypin, or
whoever advises him in these matters, lacks even a particle of the
quality which Napoleon possessed in the highest degree: an eye for
men.[9] The result is that excellent Governors (among them staunch
Conservatives) have been dismissed on ridiculous pretexts, and have in
some cases been replaced by unamiable and incompetent blunderers.
[9] It should be said, in justice to M. Stolypin, that it is extremely
difficult to find people to accept these posts. Those who are capable
of filling them competently refuse them.
STORIES
POGROM
Count X. was a landowner who lived in the south of Russia, not far from
one of the large manufacturing towns. He spent the whole summer in a
small country house, about six miles from the town, with his wife and
children. Not far from the house, at about a mile’s distance, was a
village which was bigger than an ordinary village and less big than an
ordinary town. The greater part of the population consisted of Jews;
they were poor Jews mostly, some of them very poor indeed. The Count
and his wife knew the people of the place well, and their relations
with the poor Jews were of the friendliest description; they were
constantly employing them to do small jobs, and their special friends
were the tailor and the bootmaker, whose shops were in the Jewish
bazaar, the poorest quarter of the place. The bootmaker’s name was
Gertzel, and the tailor was called Daniel.
When the Dreyfus case was drawing to its close, the whole of this
population was in a great state of excitement, and the Countess X. used
every afternoon to go and give Gertzel and Daniel the latest news.
Just before the result of the final court-martial at Rennes was known,
Countess X. received a telegram from a friend of hers abroad saying
that Dreyfus had been acquitted. She went post haste with the news to
the village, and soon the whole place was in a tumult of thanksgiving
and rejoicing. Next day, when the authentic news of the verdict
arrived, she was obliged to go and tell the disappointing news.
During all those summer months nothing else had been discussed in this
little place; and, as everywhere else, the world was split up into
two factions; and in the Countess’ family, while she and her husband
believed violently in the innocence of Dreyfus, her brother-in-law and
her uncle were equally firmly convinced of his guilt, and equally
violent in their affirmations of it. In the village there was a strong
orthodox faction which earnestly longed for the death of the traitor,
and the Jewish populace cared more for his acquittal than for their own
affairs. When Countess X. imparted to them the disappointing verdict,
they lamented bitterly: all the more so on account of the false joy
they had experienced the day before. And in the whole population there
were no two beings more downcast and upset by the result than Gertzel
and Daniel.
It was in the autumn of that year, shortly after the result of the
Dreyfus case became known, that one morning Gertzel and Daniel appeared
in Countess X.’s garden and requested to see her.
Gertzel was a thin, solidly built man, with dark tangled hair and mild
soft eyes. He had a thick, untidy beard, a dirty loose shirt with a
torn collar. Daniel was smaller, and younger; he wore no beard, and his
eyes were penetrating and glistening; he was quiet and modest, and was
passionately fond of reading books.
The Countess came out and asked them whether they wanted work.
“No, it is not work that we want,” said Gertzel, “we want to know if we
may bring our furniture to-day, and put it in your stables? It will not
take up very much room,” he added.
“Certainly you may,” said the Countess; “but why do you want to get rid
of your furniture? Is it your feast day?”
“No, it is very far from being our feast day--it is little enough a
feast day,” said Gertzel; “but we want you in your kindness to let
us store our furniture in your stables--in the barn perhaps. It will
take little room. There are some chairs, a table, and the tools and
implements that are necessary for our work. And Daniel has a lot of
books he would like to bring, too--some of those which your Brightness
gave him, if your Brightness remembers, last year.”
“You may certainly bring your things,” said the Countess, “and put them
in the stables or in the barn or anywhere else you please. But why do
you want to do this?”
“It is because,” said Gertzel, “to-morrow morning there will be a
Pogrom.”
“How a Pogrom?” asked the Countess.
“A Pogrom,” said Gertzel, “an ordinary Pogrom. It has been arranged;
the date is fixed for to-morrow. It will be all right if we may store
our furniture in your barn; and if we may ask as much, we have several
friends who would like to do the same. For in that case all will be
well, and we shall incur no loss. We cannot afford the loss this year:
we are all poor people; we cannot afford to lose our property.”
“But,” said the Countess, “I don’t understand. Who is going to make
this Pogrom? The people here?”
“God forbid!” said Gertzel. “We are living with all the people here in
peace. They are coming from O. (O. was the big manufacturing town) and
from A. (another town about fifty miles distant). They are coming by
train; they will arrive early to-morrow morning. The Pogrom will take
place in the morning; it will be all over by the evening, and they will
go back by the night train.”
“But who?” the Countess asked, “and what are they?”
“They say they have been sent; some people say it is the Tsar’s orders;
others that it is the Governor, but what does it matter? In any case,
they have been sent to make a Pogrom.”
“Surely,” said the Countess, “if you inform the police, measures will
be taken to prevent this. It is absurd! It can’t possibly happen!”
“It must be,” said Gertzel, and Daniel nodded his head in agreement,
and repeated: “It must be: it is so decreed!”
“It has all been arranged,” said Gertzel. “To-morrow there will be the
Pogrom. Let us bring our furniture to your barn, our furniture and our
friends’ furniture, and all will be well.”
“It must be prevented!” said the Countess, “You must go to the police.”
“It is useless,” said Gertzel; “it cannot be prevented; it has been
arranged for to-morrow.”
And no argument was of any avail; they merely repeated over and over
again that the Pogrom was to be, and they left, with tears of gratitude
in their eyes for having been allowed to store their furniture in the
Count’s stables.
The Countess went to her husband and related what had happened. They
sent for Ivan, the moujik, who washed the plates, and who, being a
native of the place, would be likely to know what was going on, and
they asked him if it were true that there was to be a Pogrom.
“Yes, your Brightness,” he said, “it is quite true. There will be a
Pogrom to-morrow; it has been arranged.”
“Who has arranged it?” asked the Countess.
“I cannot know,” answered Ivan; “but it has been arranged.”
“You mean the people here?” asked the Countess, “they will attack the
Jews?”
“God forbid!” said Ivan. “The Jews are a nice people. We live with them
in peace; but everything may happen. Sometimes an orthodox Russian is
worse than a Jew. But the Jews were much offended by the last Pogrom,
and they have been giving false evidence, and attributing to many
people crimes which they had not committed.”
“When was the last Pogrom?” asked the Countess.
“It was in the spring,” said Ivan, “when your Brightness was away.”
“And did they kill the Jews?” asked the Count.
“God forbid!” Ivan answered. “They sinned a little, and they destroyed
some of the Jews’ property, but murder--God forbid! they were innocent
of that!”
“But who is going to do this?” asked the Count.
“They will come from various places,” said Ivan. “They will come by the
night train from O. and A. They will arrive in the morning; there will
be a Pogrom, and they will go away.”
“But who?” asked the Count.
“Those who are sent,” said Ivan.
“But who is sending them?” repeated the Count.
“I cannot know,” said Ivan.
“How do you know this is so?” asked the Countess.
“Everybody knows it,” said Ivan--“all the morning carts have been
arriving from all the neighbouring villages just as when there is a
fair.”
“What for?” asked the Countess.
“To take away all that is left after the Pogrom,” said Ivan. “It is
advantageous for the peasants to get the property of the Jews and to
pay nothing at all for it.”
“It must be prevented,” said the Count.
Ivan smiled, and merely repeated that there would be a Pogrom on the
following day, for so it had been arranged, and nothing more could be
got out of him.
The Count went and interviewed the local police sergeant and spoke
seriously to him about the matter. The police sergeant shrugged his
shoulders and wrung his hands, and said that he could do nothing;
what was his authority in the place? What could he and two policemen
do against the populace? “If there is to be a Pogrom there will be a
Pogrom,” he said. “We can do nothing. We should only be killed too.
There is nothing to be done.”
All day long Jews from the village who knew the Count and the Countess
came to their house, bringing with them furniture and goods of every
description, till the whole stables were filled with them, and all
day long large creaking carts drove slowly into the village from the
neighbouring villages, bringing the peasants who had come to bear off
the booty when the Pogrom should be over. And they met and conversed
with the Jews in the friendliest manner possible, discussing the Pogrom
merely as an event of not very considerable importance, but as a fact,
such as an eclipse or a feast day, about which there could be no
possible doubt, and no possible change.
The Countess had a further interview with Sasha, the cook, a peasant
woman who was also a native of the place; but she, like Ivan, merely
repeated over and over again that the Pogrom was fixed for the morrow,
and that it would be executed by people sent for the purpose, who would
come by train from the various big towns.
The Count went once more to the police sergeant, and told him to take
some steps; he replied that he would do his best, but that he was a
married man, and the Count must have pity on him, that there were no
steps to be taken--that he could do nothing--that nothing could be
done--that nobody could do anything!
The next morning, as soon as the Countess awoke, Sasha the cook came
into her room and said--
“There will be no Pogrom: it has been put off!”
THE ANTICHRIST
In the village of X., which is in the government of O., in Central
Russia, there were two men: one was called Michael and the other was
called Andrew. They were both deeply religious and concerned with
the things of a world which is not this world. They spent days and
nights in reading the Scriptures and in pondering over the meaning of
difficult texts. They had both resolved in their early youth never
to marry, for they considered that the human race had something so
radically bad about it that the sooner it came to an end the better.
They decided, therefore, that it was their duty not to prolong its
existence. But when they attained to early manhood the parents of
Andrew contracted an alliance for him, and he was wedded to a girl
named Masha. Their union was not blessed with offspring, and Michael,
who continued to lead a solitary life, with rigorous fasting and
uninterrupted meditation, said such was the will of Providence. The
young wife of Andrew did not share the views of the mystic, and she
yearned to be the mother of a child. Unbeknown to her husband, she
sought one night the Wise Woman of the village, who was skilled in
finding lost objects, and who was versed in the properties of herbs,
and knew the words of power which cured the sick of dreadful disease.
Masha sought the Wise Woman in the night, and told her her trouble. The
Wise Woman lit a candle, muttered a brief saying in which the name of
King David was mentioned, and that of a darker Prince. She gave her a
small green herb, telling her to eat it on the first moonless night in
June, and that her wish would be fulfilled.
Masha obeyed the Wise Woman’s behest. A year passed by and the wish
of her heart was granted. A son was born to her. And Masha and Andrew
greatly rejoiced over this. But when Michael heard of it his spirit was
troubled. He consulted the Scriptures, and the meaning of the event
became clear to him. He sought Andrew and said to him--
“This is the work of Satan. You have dabbled in black magic, and you
are in danger of eternal perdition. Moreover, the truth has been
revealed to me--the child which has been born to you is none other than
the Antichrist, of which the Book of Revelation tells. And that is why
our poor country is distressful, seething with trouble, sedition, and
revolt, and why our Sovereign is vexed, and why evil days have fallen
upon Russia, our Mother. We must slay the Antichrist, and immediately
the dark cloud will be lifted from our land, and peace and prosperity
shall come to us once more.”
That night Michael convoked Andrew and Masha to his house. It was a
small, one-storeyed, wooden cottage, thatched with straw. It was swept
and clean, and in one corner of the room were many glittering images
of the Queen of Heaven and the Saints, before which burned small red
lights; and besides this Michael had erected a shrine on which more
than a dozen thin waxen tapers were burning. Michael convoked Andrew
and his wife to his house, and the elders of the village also, and they
spent an hour in chanting and in prayer, each holding a candle in his
hand, but to the priest he said no word of this matter, for he did not
trust him nor believe him to be possessed of celestial grace. After
they had prayed for an hour, Michael said to Masha--
“Go home and fetch your child.”
Masha obeyed, and returned presently, bearing the infant for whose
advent she had so sorely longed, and which in coming had been the cause
of such joy to her. Michael took the infant and said--
“In the body of this child is the power of Satan: in the body of this
child is the Antichrist of whom the Scriptures tell--this is the cause
of the misfortunes which have visited our dear country, and vexed the
spirit of our Lord and Sovereign.”
He then extinguished all the lights and the tapers in the room: it was
pitch dark, and no sound was heard save the muttering of Michael’s
continuous prayer. Masha trembled, for she was afraid. Michael took the
infant. It lay quite still, for it was asleep.
And as Michael took the infant he said: “We must exorcise the spirit
and slay the Antichrist, who has been born in this child to be the
bane of Russia and to vex the heart of our Sovereign!”
And Michael bade the people who were gathered together in the
room--there were five men, the eldest in the village, and seven
women--be prepared for the great event, and he lifted his voice, and in
a wailing whisper he addressed the Evil Spirit.
“Evil Spirit,” he said, “Antichrist, of whom the Holy Scriptures tell,
through the dark dealings of our brother Andrew and his wife, who
have trafficked with Satan, thou hast found a way into the body of
this child, but it is written that the troubles of Russia and of our
Sovereign shall be at their thickest at thy advent, but shall diminish
and pass away with thy disappearance. Evil Spirit, I conjure thee,
leave the body of this child.”
Then the infant cried plaintively, twice.
“Hark!” said Michael, in a solemn voice, “the spirit of the Antichrist
is speaking. Hark to the cry of Satan, who is leaving the body of
the child. Pray, pray with all your might, and help me to slay the
Antichrist.”
And fear came upon everybody, nor durst they utter in the stillness,
but their spirits were spellbound and seemed to be drawn, tense and
taut as stretched wires, in that effort of prayer for the passing of
the spirit of Satan and for the slaying of the Antichrist.
The infant cried once again--and then it cried no more!...
“The Antichrist has been slain,” said Michael, and a deeper stillness
came on the assembly. “The Antichrist,” said Michael, “must be buried.”
And he walked out of his cottage into the yard where in a shed his
horse and cart were kept. He unloosed his horse and said: “Whither the
horse shall lead, thither must we follow.”
The horse trotted slowly down the deserted street. That night there
was neither moon nor stars in the sky. Beyond the village was a marshy
plain. It was just before dawn, and in the thick velvet darkness of the
sky there was a glow as of a living sapphire. They reached the marsh,
and there the horse stopped, and began to browse.
“It is here that the Antichrist must be buried,” said Michael. And they
buried the infant by the reedy marsh. And all this time neither Andrew
nor Masha, nor the elders, nor the women who were there, spoke a single
word; and when they had finished burying the infant a breeze came from
the east, and the dawn, grey and chilly, trembled over the horizon, and
the wild ducks rose from the marsh, uttered their cry, and flew away
into distance, seeking the fields.
The spell that had kept this assembly mute and speechless vanished with
the vanishing darkness. The noises of life began: the creaking of carts
was heard from the village, and the cocks were crowing.