CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE DEFENCE COMMITTEE.
The little man who played the part of errand boy at the cheese shop andwho was arrested before the work on the mine was well advanced hadultimately turned state's evidence. Among the revolutionists he betrayedwas Pavel, but the prince was known to him under a false name. Still,the information furnished by his man, added to some addresses found onother captured Nihilists, led to a series of new arrests. The ranks ofthe Will of the People were being rapidly decimated. Grisha, thedynamiter, and several other members of the innermost circle were seizedshortly after the killing of the Czar. The few surviving leaderswithdrew to the provinces, in some cases only immediately to fall intothe hands of the police there. Thus in April, after a Jewish studentgirl was arrested in Kieff, the "trap" at her lodgings caught a womanand a man who proved to be Baska, the "wife" of the "cheesemonger"couple, and her real husband, "the German." Urie (the "cheesemonger"),Makar and several other active revolutionists were in Moscow.
One late afternoon Clara was slowly pacing the painted floor of herroom, her hands clasped behind her, while her lover lay on the lounge,watching her through the gathering dusk.
"St. Petersburg is too hot now," he said, breaking a long silence."Everybody is going away."
"There is really no use staying here just at present," she assented,sadly, without pausing.
They grew silent again. The gloom of the little parlour was thickeningso rapidly that it seemed as though the outline of Clara's face, as shewalked back and forth, became vaguer every time she turned in Pavel'sdirection.
Presently, with a burst of amorous tenderness, he got up, saying:
"Clanya! Let us go for a rest somewhere. You know you need it."
"You need it even more than I do, poor boy," she replied, stepping upclose to him. "I do wish you would go home for a month or two--orsomewhere else. As to myself, I should first like to see my parents. Theriots may strike Miroslav at any moment. If any harm came to them, Ishould never forgive myself. I must get them away from there. That's allI can think of." There was an obvious blank in her words. She leftsomething unsaid, and the consciousness of it made him uncomfortable.
"But that's easily arranged," he urged. "You can send them money andinvite them to some safe place."
"That's what I have been thinking of. I am so restless I wish I couldstart to-morrow. It couldn't be arranged too soon. There are persistentrumors that a riot is coming there. I shan't be gone long, dearest."
He had it at the tip of his tongue to force a discussion of theirparty's attitude toward the riots and to have it out once for all. Inhis imagined debates with her on the subject he had often exclaimed: "Ihappen to belong to a class of land-robbers and profligates; now,suppose the revolution breaks out and my class is attacked by thepeople, will that affect me? A nice revolutionist I should be if itdid!" This and other arguments were all ready; what he lacked, however,was the courage to bring up the topic. As to her promise to marry himwhen the great conspiracy was out of the way, her redeeming it now,while she was so tremulously absorbed in the question of her parents'safety, could not be thought of.
He gathered her to him and kissed her, at once sympathetically andappealingly.
"Go home, Pasha," she besought. "But not to Miroslav. You won't restthere. Go to some of your mother's country places, or, perhaps someother place would be safer for you. Go and take good care of yourself.It would be too terrible if I found you arrested when I got back."
"Will you marry me then?" he asked, impersonating a pampered child.
She nodded, in the same playful spirit, and again her reticence broughtdisquiet to his heart. "Something tells me she'll never be mine," hethought with a sigh.
* * * * *
While the government was actively fomenting the riots, making anelectric rod of the Jews, the Nihilists persisted in mistaking them forrevolutionary kindling wood. While the "Chronicle of Arrests" in therevolutionary organ included a large number of Jewish names, several ofthem of persons conspicuous in the movement and noted for their pluck,another page of the same issue contained a letter from the riot-riddendistrict that was strongly flavoured with anti-Semitism. Moreover, aproclamation, addressed to the peasantry, was printed on an"underground" press, naming the Czar, the landlords and the Jews asenemies of the people. This proclamation met with a storm ofdisapproval, however, on the part of Gentiles and Jews alike, and waswithdrawn from circulation. Chaos reigned in the minds of the Nihilists.Their party was disorganised, their thinkers for the most part buried,dead or alive, the editorial management of their publications in thehands of the weakest man on the Executive Committee, of one who severalyears later sent, from Paris, a most servile petition to the Czar,abjuring his former views and begging permission to return home as anadvocate of unqualified absolutism and panslavism.
The attitude of the Nihilists toward the Jewish population in generalwas thus anything but sympathetic; and yet, so far as the higher strataof the movement were concerned, the personal relations between Jew andGentile were not affected by this circumstance in the slightest degree.The feeling of intimate comradeship and mutual devotion between the twoelements was left unmarred, as if one's views on the Jewish questionwere purely a matter of abstract reasoning without any bearing on theJew of flesh and blood one happened to know.
More than this, in their blind theorising according to preconceivedformulas, most of the active Jewish Nihilists shut their eyes to theactual state of things and joined their Gentile comrades in applaudingthe riots as an encouraging sign of the times, as "a popularrevolutionary protest."
Pavel longed to discuss the riots with Makar. When he saw him, however,he found him far more interested in the "new revolutionary program" uponwhich he was engaged than in the anti-Semitic crusade.
"As if it was the first time Jewish blood had been shed," he said,answering a question from Pavel, half-heartedly. "The entire history ofthe Jews is one continuous riot. Indeed, the present outbreaks are amere flea-bite to what they have undergone before. So, what hashappened to make one revise one's views on the movement? One might aswell stay away from the _Will of the People_ because, forsooth, Jewswere burned by Gentiles in the 15th century. Nonsense."
"Clara doesn't seem to take it quite so easy," Pavel thought to himself.
"Clara has gone to meet her parents," he said, thirsting to talk of her.
"Has she? There may be a riot in Miroslav at any time. I wonder howZorki is getting along. But then my father will be able to take care ofhimself,--and of Miriam, too," he added, lukewarmly. The only thing ofwhich he could have spoken with enthusiasm in these days was hisprogram.
Pavel came away hankering for more conversation about his fiancee andabout the riots. Instead of seeking rest and safety, as he had promisedClara to do, he coveted a new sort of excitement and danger. He feltthat there was something wrong about that crusade, and he had asportsmanlike craving to see it for himself. Lacking the courage tocriticise his party, he accused himself of allowing his revolutionaryconvictions to be affected by the interests of his love; yet hecontinued to pray in his heart that the Jews of Miroslav, at least,might be spared. He read all he found in the newspapers about theatrocities, and on taking up a paper he would tremble lest it shouldcontain news of a riot in his birthplace.
When he read of the Miroslav panic he went there at once.
"If it's really a riot she'll never come back to me," he brooded,wretchedly.
* * * * *
The rumours of an impending catastrophe were assuming definite outlinein Miroslav. A date was mentioned and tall Great-Russians in redshirts--specialists at the business--were said to have been seen abouttown. Great-Russia is and has always been strictly without the pale ofJewish settlement, it being one of the characteristic features of theanti-Semitic riots of the period that their leaders were imported fromthe rabble in those districts in which very few people had an idea whata Jew looked like.
"You Jews are too intense, that's what's the trouble with you," he said,blinking his eyes. "I have let you know twice that there is no cause foralarm, yet it seems that it is not enough for you." When he had softeneddown he talked quite at length, although in a haughty tone of authorityand immeasurable aloofness, of the steps he had taken. The main pointwas that the Jews should not tempt people to lawlessness by betrayinganxiety. He delivered quite a lecture on the point. The deputation cameaway greatly encouraged. They knew of the extensive business relationswhich the managers of his estates had with Jewish merchants, and theyargued, among themselves, that a riot, involving as it usually did thewholesale destruction of Jewish property and a general demoralisation ofbusiness, could not but entail serious financial losses upon himself.This was in keeping with declarations made by the boards of trade atMoscow, Warsaw and Kharkoff, the three chief centres of Russiancommerce, regarding the anti-Jewish crusade. These bodies had pointedout the importance of the Jews of the south as the prime movers of localindustry, as almost the exclusive connecting link between the south ofRussia and the world markets of Germany and England; accordingly, theyhad protested against the anti-Semitic campaign as a source of ruin tothe economic interests of the whole empire. All this the members of thedeputation were aware of, so they saw no reason to doubt the sincerityof the governor's pledges. His advice not to put the thought of a riotin the popular mind by a demonstration of timidity produced a strongimpression.
The upshot was that the Jews of Miroslav were afraid to be afraid. Asingular mood took hold of them. Everybody made an effort to act uponthe presumption that Miroslav was immune, that it was in an exceptionalposition, and at the same time everyone read suspense and mortal fear inthe eyes of everyone else. It was like walking in one's stocking feetwith a spectacular effect of making a noise. Jewish women still avoidedthe proximity of Christian men, and a Jewish face that did not lookJewish was still eyed enviously as a shield against violence. The onlytangible manifestation of the spirit advocated by the governor was aslight lengthening of business hours. Since the beginning of the panicJewish tradesmen had been closing their shops before it was quitedark--three or four hours earlier than usual. Now they compromised onkeeping them open until the street lamps were lit. Nevertheless those ofthem who depended on Christian trade continued to treat their customerswith a gentleness and a fawning attention that had nothing to do withthe ordinary blandishments of the counter. Inveterate rogues amongJewish tradesmen became honest men. On the other hand a most respectableGentile often yielded to temptation that amounted to downright robbery,while the license of "shady Christian characters" was asserting itselfmore portentously every day.
A queer story came from one of the suburbs. When three Gentiles wearingred shirts entered an out-of-the-way house to inquire the road, theirappearance frightened the two Jewish women they found there out of theplace, whereupon one of these, in a frenzy of terror, jumped into a welland was drowned. Meanwhile the three strangers, finding themselvesalone, stripped the house of its valuables--a finale which struck thefancy of a notorious thief and his gang, who then put on red shirts andmade a practice of plundering Jewish houses after scaring away theiroccupants. The thief was known as Petroucha Sivoucha, which, foregoingthe rhyme, may be rendered as Cheap Vodka Pete. When he was arrested atlast he said, impersonating a simple-minded peasant:
"But it was only Jewish stuff and everybody says a Gentile is welcome toit nowadays, that such is the will of our little father, the Czar."
The riots continued to spread, and while they did, General Ignatyeff,the new Minister of the Interior, announced measure after measureagainst the Jews. In a country where every official is perpetuallycraning his neck toward the capital, it was only natural that anattitude like this on the part of the Minister of the Interior shouldcreate an atmosphere of anti-Semitic partiality amid which justice tothe Jew became impossible. Ignatyeff knew of the widespread rumour as tothe existence of an imperial ukase ordering the peasantry to plunderand commit violence upon the Jews. Apart from his official sources ofinformation, the newspapers were full of instances showing the effect ofthat rumour, yet he did nothing to stop it or to disabuse the minds ofthe peasantry in that connection. This was interpreted by the officialsas a sign that the rumour was not meant to be stopped, and it was not.
Governor Boulatoff's encouraging answers to the Jews of his provincebrought to Miroslav hundreds of people from other towns. Some of thesewere victims of former atrocities, left without shelter in their nativeplaces; others had not yet been through an anti-Semitic outbreak, butdreaded one.
While people from other provinces were flocking to Miroslav in quest ofsafety the leading Miroslav families were quietly sending their wivesand children abroad and taking their valuables to the government bank.The offices of Dr. Lipnitzky and of Sender the Arbitrator, Vladimir'sfather, were visited by scores of panic-stricken people daily.
"The rich people put their money and their plate in the bank," said ateamster's wife to Vladimir and his father, "but what shall we do withour traps?"
"Don't worry, my dear woman, there will be no riot in Miroslav," theArbitrator reassured her.
"It's all very well to say don't worry," the woman retorted sharply."You people can afford to say it, because your house is safe. But ifthey kill my husband's horse and destroy his truck, we'll have to gobegging. It did not come easy, I can assure you." She burst into tears."The years that it has taken to save it all up, the pinching, thescrimping--all in order that a thousand ghosts might have something tograb. And what are we going to do with ourselves? Where shall we hide?As to my husband and myself, well, all they can do is to kill us, buthow about the children?" And again she burst into sobs.
When an old woman who had two unmarried daughters, "both as handsome asa tree," described her despair concerning them, Vladimir's motherinvited the girls to stay with her until the storm was over. And thenscores of other mothers begged her, with heart-breaking lamentations andkisses, to take pity on their daughters also; which she could not do forsheer lack of room.
The Vigdoroffs felt reasonably safe because Rasgadayeff, their Gentilelandlord and friend, was sure to keep the marauders away. Indeed, theexample of all previous outbreaks had shown that in most cases it wasenough for any Gentile to tell the rioters that he was the proprietor ofthe house and that there were no Jews on his premises for them to passcordially on, and Rasgadayeff was one of the conspicuous and popularfigures in the Gentile community of the town. It is true that he waslooking forward to an anti-Semitic upheaval with joy himself, but hisliking for the Vigdoroffs was sincere.
Vladimir's father went about among his depositors asking to be relievedof their money, jewelry or silver spoons. They refused to accept it.Finally he moved his iron safe to Rasgadayeff's apartment.
Vladimir was in despair. He felt it quite likely that the panic shouldbe father to a catastrophe, as the governor had said. Once when he spokein this strain at his father's table, his mother remarked with lightirony:
"Look at the brave man. Look at the Cossack of straw."
The retort struck cruelly home. He knew that his heart grew faint everytime the anti-Semitic mobs pictured themselves vividly in his brain,although often, indeed, he had a queer feeling as if it would bedisappointing to see Miroslav left out of the list of towns that weresharing in the tragic notoriety of the year, and visioned himself goingthrough the experiences of a most brutal outbreak without facing itsdangers. The tragedy of his people filled his heart. He watched them intheir terror, in their misery, in their clinging despairing love oftheir children; he studied t
heir frightened look, their shrinking,tremulous attitudes. Every Jewish woman he met struck him as a huntedbird, on the alert for the faintest sound, trembling over the fate ofher nest. He saw many of them packing their things to flee, they did notknow whither. Indeed, the whole historical life of his race seemed tohave been spent in packing, in moving, in fleeing without knowingwhither. "Oh, my poor, my unhappy people!" Vladimir said to himself, ina spasm of agony, yet with a glow of pleasure in calling them hispeople. In his heart of hearts he knew that while he told everybody totake courage his own mind was barren of conviction as to what was thebest thing to do. He felt crushed. He lost his head.
One day, as Vladimir walked along the street, his attention was arrestedby a rough-looking young man who was circling round him, andscrutinising him now on this side, now on that. He felt annoyed. He wasnot sure that the young man was a Jew, and as he asked him sternly,"What are you looking at?" he was conscious of a little qualm oftimidity.
"Excuse me, sir," the other answered, in Yiddish. "I saw you at thesynagogue that Friday night. Do you remember?"
They paused. The young man had the manner of a Jewish horse-driver orblacksmith. He was robust and broad-shouldered with small very sparseteeth, somewhat bow-legged and somewhat cross-eyed. His coat wasliterally in tatters and gave off a strong smell of herring.
"Well?" asked Vladimir.
"I have been wanting to see you, sir, only I have been too bashful." Hegave a smile, his tongue showing between his sparse teeth.
Vigdoroff rather liked his manner and invited him to his father's house.On their way thither the young man said that his name was Zelig and thathe was a cooper by trade, making a specialty of herring barrels. Whenthey found themselves alone in Vladimir's room, Zelig grew still morebashful, and after surveying the room, to make sure that they were notoverheard, he said:
"I want to belong to the committee."
"What committee?"
"You need not be on the lookout with me, sir; I am no babbler."
It appeared that there was a defence committee in town, with educatedyoung men at the head, and that in case of a riot it was expected tofight "to the last drop of a fellow's blood," as Zelig phrased it. Thatthere should be such a thing in Miroslav without him being so much asaware of its existence hurt Vladimir keenly.
"I don't know anything about it," he said, blankly.
"Don't you really?" said Zelig. "I was sure you were in it and that youcould get me in, too. Why, everybody knows about it. Only the committeeis strict, because if the police hears of it, they'll all be arrested.It's against the law." As he offered him more detail of the matter hebecame patronisingly enthusiastic and confided to him the names of Elkinand of several university students now on their vacation as theorganisers and leaders of the movement. Vladimir knew these young menand his pain became sharper still.
"But what good will it do?" he said, drily. "It will only lead totrouble."
"Trouble! The idea of an educated man speaking like that! Can there bemore trouble than the Jews are in now? I don't see why we should sellourselves so cheap. Once we are going to be licked, why act like a lotof sticks? Let us pay them for their bother at least. Come what may,when they attack us, let us go to work and crack their skulls atleast--with lumps of iron, clubs or even pistols. Let us fondle them sothat a ghost may get into every bone of theirs." His words wereaccompanied with mighty swings of his shoulders and arms and thesegesticulations of his had a peculiar effect on Vladimir. They stirredhis blood, they hypnotised him. "What is the danger? They'll kill us?Let them. As if the life of a Jew were worth living! Besides, aren'tthey killing and maiming us anyhow?"
"But look here," Vigdoroff said seriously. "The governor has promised usprotection and he is perfectly sincere about it. Now if he learns thatour people take the law in their own hands, it may do us great harm. Itis a very serious matter."
"Spit upon him, sir! I'm an uneducated man, but the governor--a ghostinto his father's father!--may all he wishes the Jews befall his ownhead."
"That's all true enough, but now he has promised us protection, and anorganisation of that kind is against the law and may lead to trouble,"Vigdoroff said with perfunctory irritation.
"And an organisation of rioters is not against the law? And robbing andkilling innocent people is not against the law? Long life to you, sir;you're so wise, so educated and yet you are speaking like a baby. Lookhere, sir! If the governor--a plague take him--is as good as his word,and he does not allow the riot to get started, well and good. Then we'llcall the bargain off. But suppose he proves to be neither better norworse than all governors?"
Zelig knew of a number of other Jewish artisans who were anxious to jointhe "committee," and he urged Vigdoroff to visit their gathering and togive them a talk like the one Zelig had heard from him at the Synagogueon that Friday night. "Oh, that was sweet as sugar," he said, kissingtwo of his dirty fingers. "You see, when it comes to striking ascoundrel's snout such a blow as will set his eyes raining sparks, wewant no help. That we can manage ourselves, but we are only commonpeople, and when a smart man like you says a couple of words, theysimply go melting in a fellow's bones."
"But I don't know anything about the 'committee.'"
Zelig laughed familiarly. "Sender-the-Arbitrator's son doesn't know! Ifyou only had the desire, you could belong to it yourself and introduceus fellows, too."
"Very well. I'll consider it. And I should advise you men to do thesame."
"Consider it! We are only plain uneducated people, but we aren't goingto do any considering. I have a sister, sir, and if a Gentile lays afinger on her he'll be a dead man, I can tell you that. Jewish blood isbeing spilled by the bucket and here you are talking of 'considering.'"He insisted that Vladimir should attend the meeting of his informalsociety, and Vladimir, completely in his power, promised to do so.
* * * * *
That evening, in a spacious barn, half of which was crowded with barrelsof herring, Vladimir found Zelig and some fifteen chums of his. Zeligwas playing with a huge iron key. He was employed here and the meetingwas held by his employer's permission. For more than nine persons toassemble without a police permit is a crime; so it gave Vigdoroffsatisfaction to reflect that he was now incurring risks similar to thoseincurred by Clara and her friends. The gathering seemed to be made up ofmechanics and labourers exclusively. One of the men present was thesneering fellow whom Vigdoroff had seen at the synagogue. Of the othersVladimir's attention was attracted by two big burly young butchers withdried-up blood about their finger-nails, a chimney-sweep, who lookedlike a jet-black negro, with white teeth and red lips, and three menwith medals from the late war which they apparently expected to act asan amulet against Gentile rowdies. The chimney-sweep sat apart, crackingsunflower seeds. Now and again he made as though to throw his sooty armsround somebody's neck and then burst into laughter over his own joke.All the others looked grave. They showed Vigdoroff much respect andattention. Even the sneering man made a favourable impression on himto-night. Only he himself was so ill at ease he could scarcely take partin the conversation. Other men came. When one of these proved to beMotl, the trunk-maker in his aunt's employ, Vigdoroff felt somewhat moreat home.
One of the retired soldiers took to bragging of the courage he and histwo comrades had shown at the taking of Plevna, and when one of theother two signed to him to stop boasting, he said, with a blush:
"I am saying all this because--because--what good did it do us? Does theCzar pat us on the head for it? We risked our lives and many of ourpeople died under Plevna, and yet if we tried to settle in Great-Russiawe would be kicked out neck and crop, wouldn't we?"
"Indeed we would, war record, medal and all," one of the other twochimed in.
"And why? Because we are Jews. We were not chased home from the firingline because we were Jews, were we?"
"Talk of Great-Russia," somebody put in. "As if in a place like Miroslavwe were allowed to live in peace."
Another man as
sented with a sigh, adding: "If a thousandth part of thecourage shown by the Jews in the war was shown in our self-defenceagainst Gentiles, the Gentiles would have more respect for us."
The conversation turned on the subject of pistols, but the propositionwas overruled.
"Before we get pistols and learn to use them we'll be asleep under aquilt of earth," said Zelig. "Why, what ails my cooper's hatchet, or ahammer, or a plain crowbar?"
Every time Vigdoroff opened his mouth the faces of the others wouldbecome tense with expectation. But he had nothing to say except to askan occasional question, and every time Zelig, playing with his enormousiron key, pressed him for a speech, he would adjure him, in a flutter ofembarrassment, to let it go this time.
They talked of the prospective fight in phrases like "forwarding aremittance to one's snout" or "pulling up sharp under a fellow'speeper," which amused and jarred on him at once. For the rest, there wasa remarkable flow of common sense, humour and feeling. The gatheringcast a spell over him. He had come with the partial intention ofspeaking against their scheme, yet now he felt that he could much morereadily face a gang of armed Gentiles than betray a faint heart tothese Jewish artisans. Moreover--and this was the great point with himat the present moment--he felt that with these men by his side he couldfling himself into the very thick of the hottest fight. A peculiar senseof solemnity and of gratification came over him. He followed their talkreverentially. He humbly offered to call on one of the leaders of theDefence Committee and to apply for the admission of this group withhimself as one of its members.
His first dawn of consciousness as he opened his eyes next morning wasof something exceedingly important and solemn which somehow had theflavour of herring. The active participation of a man like Elkin in thework of the Defence Committee was a source of disappointment to him. Heusually kept out of Elkin's way, as much for his venomous pleasantry asfor his revolutionary affiliations which he divined from his friendshipwith Clara. He wondered whether he meant to give the affair arevolutionary character. "He must have warned the other members againstme as a silk stocking and a coward," Vigdoroff said to himself bitterly."That's probably the way Clara describes me."
The next morning he was surprised by a visit from Elkin himself. Therevolutionist frowned as he spoke, but this was clearly a disguise forhis embarrassment.
"Look here, Vigdoroff," he said. "There has not been much love lostbetween you and me, but that's foolish--at a time like this anyhow. Wemust all work together. We are all Jews. I understand you have organiseda number of good fellows. Let them join the others."
Vigdoroff's heart beat fast, with emotion as well as with a sense offlattered pride. He would never have expected Elkin capable of suchsoulful talk. Moreover his speaking of himself as a Jew seemed to implythat he had abandoned Nihilism. "So we 'cowards' were not so very wrongafter all," he thought to himself triumphantly.
"In the first place," he answered, "it wasn't I who organised them. Itwas just the other way, in fact."
"Well, anyhow, let them join the rest."
"Of course we will. Only look here, Elkin. You have been frank withme----"
"I know what you mean, but you need not worry. I won't get you introuble," Elkin replied with his usual venom in his lozenge-shapedsneer. And then, kindly: "It is not as a Russian revolutionist that Ihave gone into this thing. I am one, as much as ever; I have not changedmy views a bit, in fact. But that's another matter. All I want to say isthat in this thing I am as a Jew, as a child of our unhappy, outraged,mud-bespattered people."
The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia Page 38