“The 1890’s”
from Memoirs - Mikhail Mikhailovich Mogilyansky
1922
(Translated by Irina Efimov)
(I dedicate these memoirs of the long-gone days of my youth to the memory of my mother, M. N. Mogilyanskaya)
The formidable events of the great Russian Revolution may, of course, only be understood and illuminated historically through their ties with the history of a nearly century-long revolutionary struggle. In the history of this struggle an extraordinarily important moment appears in the last decade of the 19th century, during which preparations for the final storm against the stronghold of autocracy began and which, in March of 1917, ended with its downfall. Plekhanov rightfully observed that, after the catastrophe of December 25, 1825, “the entire history of Russian revolutionary thought - beyond even the smallest exceptions - can be formulated as a series of attempts to find a plan of action that would bring the revolutionaries the sympathy and support of the masses.” (1) While such a plan of action was formulated in the epoch preceding the 1890’s, it was only in the ’90’s that revolutionary thought fertilized revolutionary practice with a broad application of new methods of revolutionary struggle. This put its stamp on the whole epoch, even manifesting itself in those aspects of social life which, at first glance, were completely isolated from the fundamental course of the contemporary revolutionary struggle - for example, the so-called student movement whose appearance is mentioned almost yearly during the 1890’s.
In these notes, I do not pretend to offer a history of the 1890’s. I am conscious of the limitations of my task; this is a personal memoir of what I lived through and saw, of the events that “ipse vidi et quorum pars fui”... The subjectivism of these personal experiences, offered to the reader of these memoirs without any attempt to objectify them, only aspires to show which actual events and which ideas were factors in my education. From this perspective, it seems to me that this very subjectivity may serve as a historical source that might, once it is cleansed of the coincidental and the non-essential, help to discern and understand the underlying broad strokes of this historical epoch.
I.
Final Years in the Gymnasium
(The Gymnasium in Chernigov from the end of the 1880’s to the start of the 1890’s - The influence of Dragomanov - The Zemstvo Movement - The Peasantry - The Conception of a Marxist Frame of Mind - Impressions of March 1, 1881 - The Unexpected Use of Ilovaysky - The Illegal Library - The Newspaper “Narod” (The People) - Gymnasium Social Circles
I entered the Faculty of Law at the University of Petersburg after graduating from the Chernigov Gymnasium in 1892. From the depths of Russia I took with me to the capital the conviction that the revolutionary struggle against autocracy was the most important problem of our time. I also took a rapturous youthful certainty that my generation would witness the fall of autocracy's hierarchical structure, a certainty, it seemed to me, that did not only come from youthful idealism but which was grounded in the “irrefutable laws of history.” This strong conviction came to me through Dragomanov's brochure, “Liberalism and the Zemstvo in Russia” in which the author, through a chronology of the political history of France and its similarities with the government in Moscow, showed that, as the distance between the political stages of France and Russia diminished, the calling of the Estates General in France in 1789 should have already corresponded to the calling of the Zemstvo societies in Russia. While delays had occurred due to a number of complications in Russia’s situation during the 18th century, the intellectual obstacles to the political liberation of Russia were already eliminated; thus, it was now under the sway of the “irrefutable laws of history.” But the question of how this would be accomplished, what methods and means would be used, remained open.
Dragomanov’s answer to this question - along with that of all other educated people - began with the Zemstvo movement, but this did not satisfy since there was little belief in the possibility of a peaceful liberation. It was clear that the autocracy, as was seen in the reality that surrounded us, would not give in to social opinion if it was not backed by some material force which even the fullest unity of thought among educated people could never possess. Furthermore, serious doubts were raised about the very possibility of any unity among educated people stemming from the founding of the Zemstvo movement, and even regarding the Zemstvo movement itself. Under the influence of Dragomanov, I and my classmates, from the time we were in the 7th class at the Gymnasium, and risking serious consequences from the Gymnasium authorities, climbed up into the gallery of the Hall of the Nobility during the Zemstvo meetings. But in the recently renewed Zemstvo of 1890, no voice was raised in hopes of political liberation in Russia.
The heroic aspect of "Narodnaya Volya" (People’s Will Party), best known through Stepniak's “Podpol’noi Rossii”, gained it reverent and romantic admiration but its answer to the question concerning the method of revolutionary struggle was also unsatisfactory. Dragomanov’s critique of its political lack of purpose and its morally unacceptable use of terror was absolutely convincing. My own observations and reflections left no room for any faith not only in peasant socialism, but in the possibility of any wide sympathy and support for the revolutionaries on the part of the peasant masses. Since childhood, I had spent every summer in the countryside and my knowledge of peasant life turned both of these ideas into a groundless utopia. Of course, I could not judge the full extent of the peasant question due to my limited knowledge. But, by youthful inclination, I could summarize what I saw with my own eyes and conclude that the peasantry suffered not from a land shortage but from cultural darkness and helplessness, from their farming methods which were unchanged, surely, since the time of Rurik, from their lack of rights, codified into law and organized by the institute of zemstvo leaders, i.e. - in the final reckoning - by the autocracy. Thus, in my eyes, overthrowing the autocracy was the “conditio sine qua non” of the cultural and economic advancement of the peasants, but I never imagined that this conviction could become the property of the broad peasant masses, pushing them onto the road to revolutionary struggle. The Russian peasant, as I imagined him through the works of Russian belle-lettristes (Reshetnikov, Gl. Uspensky) reinforced the attitude which was grounded in my personal impressions. Moreover, my final year at the gymnasium was a “year of hunger” (year of famine - 1891-92); I read proclamations by Narodnaya Volya (People’s Will) signed “Muzhik Well-Wishers” and I knew that the hungry peasants remained deaf to the call to revolution and did not display the “strength of impatience” of an emancipated people. In a word, to await the political liberation of Russia from the peasants, as from the Zemstvo movement, and along side it the beginnings of an amalgamation of “all educated people” for me signalled a waning of faith in the “irrefutable laws of history.” And this raised before me the very question of revolutionary method, the search for which, according to Plekhanov, characterized the entire history of Russian revolutionary thought since the Decembrists. I expected to find a solution in my university studies and chose the Faculty of Law because of this. To be honest, I was already approaching my eventual answer to this question: I had read the Communist Manifesto in the 8th class at the Gymnasium, and in the 7th class I was already copying lines from Lasalle into my notebook about “the eternal majesty of the rising sun's world-wide significance.” Even more than Dragomanov’s “irrefutable laws of history,” my youthful thoughts were captivated by the interpretation of the laws of social progress which, according to educated socialists, were like absolute historical laws. This interpretation nourished a cheerful certainty in the outcome of the struggle, gave it wings and, despite the latest assertion by the Russian people that its "fatalism" cultivated passivity, it awoke an ecstatic desire for activism. However, my adopting the ideology of educated socialism at that time, and finding the answer to the question regarding revolutionary method in it was hindered by an insufficient general education and an inadequate casual familiarity with it. My search was made even more complicated by the influence of diverse readings which argued that this socialism does not apply to Russia, that Russia was a country of peasants, that the industrial proletariat made up an insignificant percentage of the entire population, that, therefore, we had no “workers’ question” and that historical diagrams based on the material lives of those in western Europe could not be adapted to Russia... Thus, since my early enthusiasm for revolution did not push me into any one-sided revolutionary sectarianism and clannishness, I committed myself to a wide, if unorganized, reading - a passion that was awakened in me in my childhood under my mother’s influence. My favourite author during my final years at the Gymnasium was Heinrich Heine. Thanks to my wide-ranging reading, revolution never developed as a self-contained interest but always appeared to me as part of the broader question of the final Europeanization of Russia, bringing her complete access to the wealth of the world's spiritual culture. The idea that Russia might possibly follow an independent path of development remained foreign to me, and even seemed to be based on a psychological misunderstanding; Slavophilism and populism seemed to me incomprehensible eccentricities; the solution to Russia’s political problems lay in a legal, constitutional state. My teachers here were K.K. Arseniev, the German correspondent Yollos (starting in the 6th grade of the Gymnasium I read "Vestnik Evropi" and "Russkie Vedomosti" regularly) - and Dragomanov. The latter supplemented the idea of a legal state with the idea of a federal structure and he became my teacher with regards to the question of regional nationality in general, and the Ukrainian question in particular. The songs and stories of my nurse, the folk culture that surrounded me and, later, Ukrainian theatre - these were all factors in my organic Ukrainianism, weakened only by the Russianization of my family and my school, where everything Ukrainian was strictly forbidden. My father, who always spoke Russian, read Ukrainian perfectly well. He had a volume of Shevchenko’s “Kobzar” published in Prague, containing works by this poet which were forbidden in Russia, and he would sometimes read from it to a circle of close family friends. The presence of children at the readings was usually ignored (children “aren’t interested,” and “they don’t understand.”) But, by the time I was 11 or 12, I had already pulled down the Prague “Kobzar” from my father’s cupboard in secret and read it from start to finish.... Dragomanov protected me from the influence of ethnographic nationalism which was spreading at that time, acting as a reliable guide between the Scylla of doctrinaire abstract cosmopolitanism which closed its eyes to the true reality, and the Charybdis of a narrow nationalism, kneeling before the “saints of nationalism,” and thus losing any universal application. I had, during my final years at the Gymnasium, already read Dragomanov's book, Historical Poland and Great Russian Democracy. Here, he offered an extraordinarily interesting survey of the progress of Russia’s revolutionary movement from a point of view that criticized those aspirations of centralization which stemmed from an erroneous understanding of the very essence of the Russian state structure that was necessary for multiculturalism. I also read, and re-read, several times, the articles written by Dragomanov on the Ukrainian question in particular, which were printed in the newspaper “Narod” (and later published in a separate edition under the name “Chukatski Dumki”) - these were discussed at length and deeply in the Gymnasium circle that I will speak of below.
Regarding the question of when the problem of the struggle with autocracy entered my youthful consciousness as an unavoidable historical question which I would serve with all my strength, as is the civic duty of any enlightened person, I can answer only in general terms. I was almost 8 years old when, on March 1, 1881, the revolution gained a terrible victory over autocracy and, for that reason, was then crippled for a long time by the autocrats... The events of March 1st struck my youthful imagination with extraordinary force, and brought to my childish thoughts a whole series of questions to which adults were unable to supply satisfactory answers. The central and most persistent of these questions was what would happen to the assassins? -- They will hang them... And did they not know that they would be hung? -- They knew... Then why did they do it? My mother, who I pestered with these questions, usually answered with a poem by Nekrasov, inserting my name into the rhyme: -- “ You will grow up, Misha, and you will know”... As time passed, it was this series of questions that allowed me, at first to just dimly feel, and later to understand the heroic sacrifice of the revolutionaries and, subsequently, I was led, step by step, into the sphere of revolutionary interests. The impression left on me by March 1st never wore off and, strangely, even our officially regulated school continually reminded us of it, at least superficially. For example, the kindest person in the world, the Inspector of Gymnasiums Lapa, losing his patience with our childish playfulness, would yell at us - students preparing for the first grade - “Agh! You are future Zhelyabo-Perovskies, future tsar-killers!”... And later, the school strongly influenced the definitive direction that the interests and thoughts of its charges would take but, of course, in a way it would never have expected. I, for example, remember well that my interest in Chernyshevsky, Herzen, nihilists, and socialists was awakened in me by the historian Ilovaysky. Already bored by the opening pages of his textbook on Russian history, I turned my attention to the final pages which described the more recent period of Alexander II’s reign. And here my curiosity was provoked by references to “thoughtless, flippant writers” who, under the influence of “western thinkers” took it upon themselves to spread “so-called socialist ideas” in opposition to the principles of citizenship, - and to "family ties and property, who, by supporting the emancipation of women, bowed to coarser feelings", and spread "moral licentiousness" born of the long-standing rule of serfdom. “An example of this coarse worship of sensuality appears especially in Chernyshevsky’s novel, What Is To Be Done? The journal, “The Contemporary” ("Sovremenik"), in which this novel was published, had become, overall, an organ of this “frivolous, negative trend” and because of this it was shut down by the state. But other organs were found to continue in its wake, and “several furious socialists and nihilists” have retreated beyond our borders in order to continue spreading their “pseudo-teachings” from there. Herzen, the Russian emigrant, served as the model for these outcasts from their homeland, devoting his wealth and his talents to senseless socialism.” The extent to which these lines awoke my curiosity can be indicated by the fact that now, almost 30 years later, I cite them from memory and, here and there, word for word. Truly, it never entered this loyal historian’s mind that he would awaken an interest both in Chernyshevsky’s “bowing to coarser feeling” and in his famous novel, or in the “furious socialists and nihilists” of whom Herzen was the example”… But what touches me is that I am gratefully indebted to the loyal historian Ilovaysky for this interest. And this interest, besides its immediate result - a familiarity with the most important schools of Russian social thought - brought me to take my first steps toward life as a social activist and, beyond that, according to the laws of the day, in an illegal activism. In this way, it served as the beginning of my social education....
While seeking out books by those authors that interested me, I became aware of a joint organization of students from the Gymnasium and the Seminary which ran an illegal library. Not only did I quickly become a subscriber, but also a member of the library’s Board of Directors. The library charged its subscribers 20 kopeks per month to borrow books; the general membership nominated 5 directors who would serve on the board for one year. Of these, only two could be seminarians, according to the library's unwritten rules. At the same time as my joining the Board of Directors of the library, the general membership decreed that it would not spend any of its efforts on enlarging its Ukrainian section. This led to the Ukrainian section becoming transformed into an organized, independent Ukrainian library. As there was nowhere to house this separate collection, I had no choice but to take it home (with the permission of my mother who always supported my social interests.) That meant that I had to decide on the spot that I would accept this risk which was considerably greater than just making use of an illegal library. At the same time, and again with my mother’s support, I took an even riskier step. I took out a subscription for the Ukrainian library, in my own name, for “Narod”, a newspaper which was printed in Galicia under Dragomanov's personal direction. For Russian subscribers, it was printed on very thin paper, like the kind used for rolling cigarettes, and was sent out in sealed envelopes. But those times, in a political sense, were still sufficiently patriarchal and for almost 2 years the post office delivered this revolutionary publication with regularity, twice each month: only two or three issues failed to reach me over that two-year period... (2) The patriarchal nature of the time also revealed itself in that, in this small village where everyone typically knew everything about everyone else, two illegal libraries functioned freely with a considerable circle of subscribers. But word somehow did get to the administration of my Gymnasium. At least, one day during a translation from the Apologia of Socrates-Plato, our Greek teacher, Sakharov, explained that Socrates "did not wish the state any harm, nor did he take part in secret circles or conspiracies.” Smiling maliciously, Sakharov added this commentary: “That is, he did not establish, for example, any Ukrainophile libraries.” For the subscribers of the ill-fated Ukrainian library, this comment had the effect of an exploding bomb, and many of them came to me that day, returning their borrowed books and insisting that, now that everything was known by the authorities, we must close the library, and quickly.
I categorically refused to close the library and it continued to function, only with a smaller number of subscribers. I don’t know what the authorities knew, but at least the heads of the Gymnasium, under the leadership of the famous inspector Antoniuk - who was sent to Chernigov after the famous letter regarding the ‘the curtailing of education for "the cook's children") to reduce the Chernigov Gymnasium and in two years closed down any parallel sections of all its classes - did not undertake any search of my house. My father, incidentally, knew nothing of the library - he was busy with his post as deputy to the presiding chairman of the regional court and enjoyed a wide esteem in the city. This, in those patriarchal times, counted as a sufficient lightning rod...
Meanwhile, when the story of Socrates disowning Ukrainophilism had already started to die down, that same Sakharov, a friend of the terror of the Gymnasium Antoniuk, showed his claws once more. In the spring, there was a “forced march” for the students of the Gymnasium outside of the city, on which the majority of the school’s administrators offered intemperate tribute to Bacchus. I approached a group of my friends who stood surrounding Sakharov and, clearly in high spirits, he turned to me and said provocatively, “As a matter of fact, I know everything. For example, I know that you are a liberal and a Ukrainophile.” What made this even worse was that at that time gymnasiums would send student character references to universities. The predecessor to Antoniuk, Inspector Lapa (who had scolded us as future Zhelyabo-Perovsky’s) suspecting liberalism (which, in his own words, he called “flies filling one’s nose”) usually threatened “Just wait; we will write you such a character reference that you will not end up at university” and would raise the symbolic combination of three fingers to the nose of the accused “liberal”.... From the mouth of Sakharov, “You are a liberal and a Ukrainophile” threatened me with the real danger of not being admitted to university, or at least not to the University of Petersburg where admission after March 1, 1887(*), had become much more difficult, especially for those who completed the gymnasium in the southern school districts... And again, a row of subscribers to the Ukrainian library appeared before me, declaring that they would no longer be continuing their subscriptions and advising me to close the library as soon as possible. And, again, I opposed the closing of the library. And when I graduated from the Gymnasium the following year, the character reference that was sent to the university proved not to be an obstacle to my admission to the University of Petersburg. I think that, in this case too, I was indebted to the position my father held in the city... The growing closeness of my group of friends, grounded in the scholarly and social interests we pursued through the library, also led to the formation of a circle that met for group readings. At first we read Dobrolyubov and Pisarev, and later I pulled down Lasalle’s essays from my father’s bookshelf. Our circle applied itself to the study of “the particular ties between the contemporary historical period and the idea of the working class.” For membership in this readers’ circle, another thing needed to be accomplished which, according to gymnasium custom, was seen as the highest offence. It was forbidden for gymnasium students to be seen on the streets after sunset.That meant that we had to change into civilian clothing and, to preserve our identities, put on dark glasses and arm ourselves with heavy cudgels. Our circle usually met on Saturdays at the house of a friend from the Gymnasium, a son (thus is the irony of Russian life) of the liberal deputy of the Procurator whose job it was, as we knew, to carry out police inquiries although, truly, these were rare at the time. (3)
This circle soon fell apart, however, due to the Gymnasium administration learning of its existence. A new circle formed immediately but with a new membership, meeting in a new location. There were no group readings in this new circle; these were replaced with essays by the readers on various themes and by discussions of diverse “questions” mainly of a moral-social character. Memories of the days of “foggy youth” are always tinted with a rosy light. Even while admitting this, I still maintain that I have not since met such passionate interest, such selfless sincerity, such courageous thought, and such depth of feeling as those of the young members of this group who debated questions of compromise, of the accommodation of the periphery by the centre, of the meaning of life etc. until they became hoarse, until they were exhausted, often into the depth of night. The influence of this circle was reflected in the publication of a hand-written newsletter that had great success even beyond the confines of its membership. With its limited financial means, and the dues received from readers of the paper which we published in monthly editions, our group made donations in aid of those suffering from hunger (the money was usually sent through the publishers of “Russian News (Russkiye Vedomosti)” under the direction of L. N. Tolstoy) and to the "Red Cross" to help political prisoners and exiles...
In this way, the final years of my Gymnasium life passed by in an environment of intense intellectual fermentation; they provided a good schooling in social education while the conditions of the time also schooled me in conspiracy.
II.
First Year at University. The Student Movements of the Spring and Fall of 1893.
The University of Petersburg at the beginning of the 1890’s. - Student demands and D. I. Mendeleev. - “The Student Herald”. - The Student Frame of Mind. - “The Mutual Aid Fund of the University of Petersburg” or 'Kassa', its organization and influence. - The Association of Fellow Countrymen (Zemlyachestva.) - The Ukrainian Association of Countrymen (Malorossiskoye Zemlyachestvo). - Academic Work. - Student Uprisings in February, 1893. - The “Vol'noslushatel" (Informer) Statkovsky. - The Expulsion of Students. - The Funeral of Pleshcheev. - Telegram from French students regarding the visit of the Russian squadron to Toulon, the response to it and new uprisings. - Marxist attitudes and the students.
In the early 1890’s, the University of Petersburg began to recover from the havoc that it had been subjected to after March 1, 1887, and the student uprisings of the late 1880’s. The number of students was again slowly increasing and by the time I entered the university, there were more than 2000 of us, a number that was considered quite high at that time. Among these students, a vague ferment began again, spilling over into "disturbances" by the spring of 1890. There were a few gatherings - these were considered as prohibited “disturbances” throughout my time at the university and the police would be called in. At these gatherings, we worked out our demands (it seems to me that they concerned changes to the university’s organization, and the abolition of classicism in secondary schools), which were delivered to Professor D.I. Mendeleev to be handed on to the Minister of Public Education. This Minister (Delyanov) not only refused to accept our demands from Mendeleev, but gave him a stern talking to. Mendeleev informed the students of the outcome of his mission at his next lecture, and then left the professorial staff of the university.
At the same time, several hundred students were arrested for taking part in these gatherings, and sent to various prisons in Petersburg; with this, the “disturbances”, for the moment, came to a close... Those arrested were sentenced to 3 days in prison. The story of these “disturbances” and their relationship to the student movement of previous years was clearly outlined in an issue of the “Student Herald” published in the spring of 1891 which was brought to me by my older brother, who had spent 3 days in the Petro-Pavelsky Fortress in 1890 for participating in this “unrest.” This periodical, imbued with youthful enthusiasm and much talent (I heard that among its chief editors was the well-known future economist N.V. Vodovozov whose life would end prematurely) gave my revolutionary frame of mind some escape for a time. Along with my closest friends, I adopted a view of the student movement as a force that, through revolutionary ferment and public demonstration, was able, regardless by what means - the existing regime lent every cause a revolutionary character - to create a “propaganda of action"... Adopting this view was less the result of careful thought than it was a display of rebelliousness; it allowed me an outlet along the path of least resistance to manifest my negative feelings toward the existing regime in order to become accustomed to revolutionary struggle with it. This view also pushed us, as young students, to take our first strides in university life and to membership in student organizations where we found views similar to our own. The organization that held most authority and had the largest membership at that time was the “Student Mutual Aid Fund of the University of Petersburg” or 'Kassa.' It arose, apparently spontaneously, after the popular and legally constituted “Academic-Literary Society” was closed(4), and brought together approximately one quarter of all the students at the university. The 'Kassa' was organized in the following manner: those who desired to join formed small groups and chose a single delegate who would join the "Board of Representatives" which was also the rule-making body. The minimum number of delegates needed to form one of these groups was 6, and each had to pay 20 kopeks per month. Most groups were made up of 15 - 20 members.
The essential work of the “Kassa” was undertaken mainly by its 'Board of Representatives' and each delegate was to report on this work to his own small group. Each group could pose questions through its delegate to be discussed by the Board. In particularly important cases, the questions that arose with the Board were passed on to the small groups for discussion.(5) The 'Board of Representatives' chose its own officials and treasurers (this would later become a 5-member board.) The majority of the smaller circles existed almost nominally, limited only to choosing a delegate and paying their dues which they did fairly promptly. Only a minority of them met regularly and of these there appeared at one time a number that met as study groups. Understandably, it was impossible to organize any serious kind of “mutual benefit” with the 80 – 100 roubles which came in from the monthly dues and membership fees, but the group did try to render some material aid to its friends by a different path. It made contact with the St. Petersburg University Student Aid Society, and was able to obtain the role of verifying those students' needs who had turned to the Society for help. For example, the lists of students whose education was being paid for by the Society were always thoroughly checked by the 'Kassa'. Even though it was an illegal organization, this group stepped in, not only to work with the Student Aid Society, but also with the Rector; the 'Kassa's' leader was always known to him as he dealt with many student issues with him in the name of this organization. Later, as the revolutionary struggle spread, and the political prisons were filled with university students, this group sent a significant portion of its money (50% and more) to the "Red Cross" which helped political prisoners and exiles, and sometimes to political parties as well. Since the amounts collected were typically meagre, we sought opportunities to increase them. One of these opportunities appeared as a “deduction” from the proceeds of one of the dance-concerts that were held in the Hall of the Nobility through their Relief Society. Since the accounts kept from these dance-concerts were checked by the police, it was imperative that those in charge that evening were exclusively 'Kassa' members. I remember that, as one of the 'Kassa' directors, I approached Professor I.I.Borgman, a member of the Relief Society, with a frank and honest explanation of this necessity. At first, the professor was quite shocked at my honesty but I explained to him that this opportunity presented one of the most important chances we had to help our friends who were suffering due to their political struggle. And he, acknowledging our ethical correctness, agreed to comply with the 'Kassa's" wishes and arrange it so that the managers of the dance-concert would be of our choosing, although he added: ”But officially, I can know nothing of this, and afterwards, let it be as if you and I never had this conversation....”
The 'Kassa' was a union made up exclusively of university students, a union which brought together representatives of all the schools of higher learning in Petersburg, as they were called by the locals. The aims of this union were, typically, vague and indeterminate; some set themselves the task of mutual assistance or formed study groups, others spoke of the education of “the citizen,” but the main point that they all agreed on was the need for friendly interaction. These associations did not show any great vitality; many exhausted their energy debating the question of regulations and once this question was settled, they would either fall apart, or exist only nominally... Usually, those who joined had completed their schooling in some distant city or other; that is why there was the Kiev Association, another from Orlov, and along with these others from Kremenchugsk, Novozybkovsk. There were also provincial associations such as the one from Sibirsk, and also those which were formed along nationalist principles, for example those from Georgia, and Ukraine (Malorossiya). A few of these associations actually organized their activities around distributing sums of money which they earned by holding student evenings in their hometowns during Christmas or summer holidays. During the second half of the 1890's, under the influence of the Moscow students' organizations' “Union of Amalgamated Associations'" authority, there was an attempt to unite the Petersburg student associations in the same way but, in the end, nothing came of this. This attempt was founded in the already outdated urge to make use of the oppositional mood of the students and their political speech-making to serve the interests of the students exclusively, still finding a few followers in the associations for this purpose – but the attempt ended unsuccessfully.
The Ukrainian (Malorossiisky) Association came into being during my first semester at the university. For many of its members, this organization played a role, to an extent, through its principled debates concerning the Ukrainian question. However, after some animation while creating the regulations for this organization, it fell apart due to some unprincipled and shallow squabbles.(6) After this, a small number of its members, among which, by the way, were a few students from the Technological and Mining institutes, tried to organize a Ukrainian political group and several meetings were devoted to choosing its programme. A programme was chosen, but not published. The technological students(7) at that time were already working with workers' groups; this deflected their interests from the questions being addressed by the Ukrainian group. Since they viewed other members of the association as they would those who were not yet prepared to do work but who were carried along by those who were, the Ukrainian group fell apart.
My first year as a university student was, of course, reinforced by attending lectures. For my course of study, I regularly listened to the Encyclopedia and the Philosophy of Law (Prof. Vershadsky), the History of Russian Law (Prof. Sergeevich), and Political Economy (Prof. Isayev). Apart from these, I attended Prof. Kareev's course on Medieval History, as well as his Encyclopedia of History just as regularly, and also some incidental lectures on the History of Literature. It seems to me that by the second half of the year, I had become a regular visiter in M.I. Sveshnikov's seminar on State Law. In the discussions that were prompted by the papers we read for this seminar the first Marxists appeared, little by little, and in the midst of whom, more often than not, was P.A. Krasikov. The lectures of Prof. Isayev and Sveshnikov's seminar provided several components of my future answer to the question of revolutionary method which I had brought with me to university. While my other courses did widen my intellectual horizons, they were dry and academic; they were somehow on a completely different plane than my young spirit which was worried by social and ethical questions. All in all, by the end of my first year, I was convinced that the majority of lectures offered only material diluted by wordy water, and since they existed as printed courses, listening to them was therefore not especially productive...
As I mentioned previously, when I joined the 'Kassa' I met with a frame of mind in harmony with my own. One of its administrators – a philology student named F.V. Bartold - was a fanatic for student “action,” for which he gained sympathy from a significant number of the groups’ delegates on the 'Board of Representatives'. The majority, however, found that the time had not yet come for any serious action; that we had not yet amassed enough strength or energy. But, in spite of this majority opinion among the board members, students found an opportunity in the disturbances that sprang up at the University of Petersburg during my first year of study – in February, 1893.
Shortly before the annual Founders Day ceremonies (Feb. 8), a question arose among the 'Kassa” circles concerning how we should react to the possibility of an imperial decree that students would be granted some kind of epaulettes or insignia for good conduct. Where the rumour of this granting of epaulettes started, no one knew, but it was considered trustworthy and the 'Kassa' circles resolved to respond to this declaration, if it was actually announced, with derisive whistles... In the end, no such declaration regarding student epaulettes was made, but a few of the “conspirators” had arrived to hear the speeches carrying police whistles. The Founders Day ceremonies were concluded with a performance of Glavach's Cantata in honour of Alexander III. Before the choir had time to complete even half the cantata, they were suddenly interrupted by a storm of whistles. In attendance were the Minister of Public Education, Delyanov, as well as the Metropolitan of Petersburg and other dignitaries, and a huge scandal resulted even though the number of demonstrators was not large and a significant number of students were clearly against this unexpected demonstration, reacting with hostility, and shouting “Get out!”... This did nothing to dampen the mood of the demonstrators who were gratified by the opportunity to express their revolutionary feelings in the presence of those high dignitaries who were in attendance. Immediately following February 8, debate within the 'Kassa' turned to the necessity of commemorating February 19 [February 19, 1861 - The date of the Emancipation Proclamation by Alexander II ending serfdom in Russia - tr.], in one way or another. They came to the most moderate decision - that students would be encouraged not to attend lectures on February 19. Two or three days prior to the 19th, statutes calling for this action appeared in the lecture halls. But for those initiating this commemorative action, it was obvious that only an insignificant number of students would comply with these statutes and, because of this, they decided that they would come to the university on February 19 and ask professors not to deliver their lectures that day. On February 18, a short proclamation appeared in the lecture halls, interpreting the events of Feb. 19, 1861 as a stage in the approaching liberation of all workers in Russia. The proclamation did not contain any concrete appeals, but it was signed by - “Socialist-Revolutionaries"... (The Socialist Revolutionary Party did not yet exist; the proclamation came from a small and informal circle that aimed to raise the “revolutionary temperature” of preparatory events like these...) For the majority of the students, this sounded like a terrorist proclamation. Conversations were heard in the corridors in which students cautioned one another not to come to the university on the 19th... - Who knows what might happen? For all we know, they'll throw a bomb!... According to the naïve thinking of the student masses, a bomb was a necessary attribute of socialism and revolution...
On the morning of February 19, a notice from the university Rector appeared in the glass case where announcements were posted. It stated that a memorial service would be held for Tsar Alexander II at noon that day in the university chapel, since it was the anniversary of his Emancipation Proclamation. After some short discussions in the main hallway, it was decided that we would not attend the service, but would instead approach our professors with the request that they cancel their lectures for the day. A few lectures scheduled in the smaller auditoriums did not take place. At 11:00 there was to be a chemistry lecture by D. Konovalov. A large group of students from the professor's usual audience entered the auditorium and were met with considerable hostility. By the time the professor entered the room, the two groups that filled the auditorium were already engaged in emotional and stormy arguments. When he found out why they were arguing, he began trying to convince the demonstrators that stopping academic work was hardly the proper method for marking great events. The demonstrators persisted, while the professor's usual students called for them to “Get out!”... The arguments went on for about 30 minutes, after which the demonstrators abandoned the lecture hall and headed along the corridor to the Assembly Hall where they began to deliberate... At noon, the professors and a significant portion of the “loyal” students came to the chapel while the discussions continued in the corridor outside of the locked Assembly Hall. Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to a man of about 30 years of age, in civilian clothes and with a dahlia in his lapel, who had been listening to our conversations with interest and attention.
”Spy, spy!”... - could be heard from all sides.
Insulted, this citizen named Statkovsky announced that he was auditing courses at the university. Proof of this was demanded of him. It turned out that he had the proper papers and was registered to audit Professor Lesgaft's lectures on anatomy. Our suspicions were not alleviated by this since a number of people who just happened to be at the meeting exposed Statkovsky, claiming that he was working for the Okhrana(*) and had not signed up for lectures in anatomy due to an interest in science, but as a means of entering the university, as his job required. Statkovsky made his plea based on his acquaintance with Professor Van-der-fleet and his sons who were students. However, the evidence against him was so irrefutable that no acquaintances could reduce its persuasiveness.
A terrible din was raised filled with loud cries, threatening the unmasked agent - so threatening that it seemed he could not avoid a brawl.
While this was happening, the gathering moved from the corridor to an open area near the chapel. On hearing the shouting, sub-inspector Allandsky came out of the chapel and approached us.
“Why have you raised such a racket here?" he addressed the students. “We can't hear anything in the chapel because of your yelling...”
“We caught a spy!” we heard someone answer, and the gathering quickly became quiet.
“So, why do you need to yell?” With a cynical but good-natured smile, the sub-inspector looked surprised, “Do you mean there is only one?”
Everyone who had gathered now began to laugh loudly and happily while the quick-witted official from the Inspectorate took the now-timid agent by the arm and led him into the chapel...
Clearly, P. Statkovsky could not show himself at the university after this episode: thus he “graduated” from the University of Petersburg, an auditing student whose membership was not based on any love of learning, but on the fulfillment of his duties to the Okhrana which, by the way, were revealed in his writings about the activities of the Petersburg Okhrana contained in book 16 of “Bylovo.” Indeed, it is utterly impossible that any civilized person with the slightest familiarity with the university could confuse Professor Sergeevich with the professor of criminal law, Sergeevsky, as Statkovsky did in his summary of events at the university during 1899. (8)
The “agitation” of February 19, 1893 at the university ended well. When the Rector and the professors left the chapel at the end of the memorial service, the gathering had not yet dispersed but clearly was in difficulty about what to do next. The Rector (the academic P. Nikitin) approached the students with the suggestion that they leave. No one moved. He then addressed the student standing nearest to him – P. Malyuga from Chernigov (who, in 1894, hung himself while being held in detention awaiting trial) - and demanded his entry ticket. After this, all of the participants in the demonstration began handing their tickets to the Rector which he took away; within a quarter of an hour he invited the students to enter his office one by one to have their tickets returned to them.
But this episode did not end without “victims.” Three weeks later, 4 students (A.V. and K.V.Vinburg, Bokevich-Schukovsky, and Ivanov) unexpectedly received orders from the governor to leave Petersburg and return to their home towns. This expulsion of our friends again stirred up ferment at the university. But a portion of the students who had recently established ties with the People's Will group were absolutely against any action taken in response to the expulsion, calling those who were moved to act to a more serious and carefully thought-out battle.
Supporters of those who were expelled organized a send off for them at the Nikolayevsky station where 200-300 students gathered. After the train had left, they held a peaceful march along the length of Nevsky Prospect, accompanied by a whole cloud of police spies...
With this, the turbulence of the spring of 1893 was exhausted. But it reappeared in the fall of that same year and continued after that through almost every semester, gaining both form and measure until the events of 1899, which Statkovsky justly refers to as the prelude to the Russian Revolution...
In general, the above-mentioned events produced a heavy, almost oppressive effect on the student-members of the 'Kassa.' They shook our notion of students and their ability to effect the struggle against the autocratic regime, and they shook our idea of the university as a natural advance-post of this struggle. If the majority of students remained indifferent to the efforts of the organized minority, this only confirmed the opinion of most of the delegates in the 'Kassa' movement that the moment had not yet reached its maturity. But the hostile attitude to our activities spoke eloquently of something else: there was no unified attitude of opposition at the university and the existing regime had an ample number of supporters among the students.
This conclusion was strengthened by the attitude among the students to the fate of the four who had been expelled at the beginning of March. There was a lack of energy and resolve to stage another demonstration in response to their expulsion, and most students reacted to it not only with indifference, but almost with sympathy. More than once, the representatives of this majority could be heard saying “They got what they deserved!”
I felt as if the ground was shaking beneath my feet and I became anxious. In the apartment where I lived with my brother, there were five other students, all fully indifferent to questions of a social-political nature. They joked about my frame of mind though, truthfully, they did so less from ill will than for a laugh. For example, I once found my pillow covered by a kerchief, its edges embroidered with the words “God, Save the Tsar!” But I could not see the humour in this; the impression left by recent events caused me to suffer as if I had a serious physical ailment that had come to a crisis... At the end of March, without completing my examinations, in the most sombre of moods, I returned home...
The insignificant two to three day demonstrations that broke out at the very beginning of the fall semester in 1893 underlined even more sharply the stratification of the student body, and indicated even more sharply the presence within this group not only of those who were on the side of the existing political regime but who were ready to show their support for it through active demonstration.
The funeral of the poet Pleshcheev was held on 2 October. (The coffin carrying his remains arrived at the Varshavsky Station from Paris and was transferred to the Nikolayevsky Station.) All of the progressive students, having laid a large silver wreath on the coffin of their favourite poet, were, of course, at the funeral. But during that morning, a telegram addressed to the students of Petersburg University was publicly posted containing a patriotic message of greeting from some French students on the occasion of the Russian squadron's arrival in Toulon under the command of Admiral Avelan. By noon, quite a large number of students had gathered where the telegram was on display. The contents of the telegram were read out loud, after which someone suggested that a deputation be sent to the Rector to ask if the students might send a response to this message. The suggestion did not raise any objections; the Rector agreed. The next day, the response to the French students' telegram, in the name of the students of St. Petersburg, was also put on display. This prompted a real storm. A noisy crowd gathered, sharply protesting that the entire St. Petersburg student body had been implicated in such a clearly patriotic act. It was suggested that a protest be brought to the Rector in the name of this gathering. In response, those who represented the patriotic students stepped forward, accusing the protestors of lacking patriotism and objecting to any protest being brought to the Rector. Passions were ignited; the polemic at times reached the pitch of bitter wrangling. Someone began to circulate a piece of paper on which those who wished to protest could sign their names; the paper was quickly covered in signatures. But this list ended up in the hands of one of the “patriots” and he, with a solemn look, asked if he might speak. When he had everyone's attention, he casually announced that, as he understood it, only non-Russians were protesting: Jews, Germans, Poles... and to prove this he began to read out the names from the list of signatures. As it turned out, coincidentally, there were a number of non-Russian names at the top of the list: Bartold, Keller, Berenshtam, Vinberg, etc. The outburst of indignation that followed did not allow the “patriotic orator” to continue and there was a moment when it seemed that all would end in a general brawl... The crowd finally quieted down and chose a deputation that would express our protest to the Rector and deliver our signatures to him. Of course, the Rector could give them no more satisfaction than to say their protest would be noted... The turbulent sea of emotions did not, understandably, quiet down right away and the clash of bitter polemics continued through the next and, as I recall, a third day. After the second day, the “patriots” stopped showing up and, in the absence of that debate, the meetings began to appear peaceful. But at that time, the very existence of meetings such as these at the university was considered an intolerable “disorder”: the university was expected to put an end to them by its own means and, in cases when it could not, it was to appeal to the police for help. (The Regional Trustee for Education, in any case, was informed of any unrest at the university quite promptly.) Because of this, the Inspector of Students came to our meeting several times on the second day, exhorting us to disperse. His appearance transformed a peaceful gathering into a disorderly and tumultuous one as cries of “Stop interfering in our affairs!” were heard, and now and then, a more unrestrained “Get out, Inspector!” “Out with the police!” Some wit quipped, “Mr. Inspector is creating disorder!” and ten other voices took up the cry: “Don't cause disorder, Mr. Inspector; Go away!” From that moment, each time the Inspector appeared at our meetings, the uproar would intensify, with shouts of, "Inspector, do not create disorder!". Once the Inspector was removed, the gathering calmed down and returned to the question of how to respond to what had happened and how to get out of the current situation. In the end, we decided to send a letter in the name of all socialist students to the editors of French socialist newspapers in which we would explain our opinion of the alliance between the free French Republic and Asiatic Russian despotism. A commission was chosen to edit the letter, as far as I recall. Whether they actually sent the letter to the French socialist press, I don't exactly know. It seems to me that it was sent....
At this time, the student vanguard was already testing the impact of Marxist ideas which called into question the over-estimated values and truths of the past, including attitudes toward the role of the student and its significance in the struggle for liberation. The events at the university described above, although essentially insignificant, gave a convincing illustration of the need for a new theoretical structure to this question.
Society is made up of heterogeneous and antagonistic classes, thus class struggle lies at the foundation of any political or social progress. The university stands as a mirror of society; the student body also divides itself into various groups so there cannot be a unity based on ideas or a struggle built on a united front. Besides this, even the revolutionary students are not in possession of their own independent force: they find this force only through contact with that social class that is most advanced in its democratic revolutionary state – the proletariat. These ideas led to a new path for our revolutionary struggle and offered a new answer to the question regarding its method. Interest in student organizations and movements died off, replaced by an interest in the workers' movement. Recent 'Kassa' leaders entered into relations with workers, joining then still nameless workers' societies and organizations. But this did not usually mean that they broke off contact with the “'Kassa' group entirely: they sought out new propagandists and agitators from among their friends as well as various forms of technical assistance for the workers' movement...
III.
My Second Year of University Life
The Summer of 1893. - Hectographing Marxist Publications. - Marxism. - Publications of the “People's Will Group.” - Ties with the Workers' Circles. - Polemic of the Populists and the Marxists. - The Lessening of Interest in Student Organizations. - Spring Arrests, 1894. - The Appearance of Legal Marxist Literature. - Hectographing Lenin's Brochure “Who are Friends...” - Struve's Book “Critical Notes.” - The Death of Alexander III and the Student Movement of 1894. - The Drawing Up of Petitions. - Arrests. - Social-Democratic Circles turn to Labour.
In this sketch, I want least of all to offer a fragment from my own autobiography: I speak of myself if only as “my contemporary, a person who is known to me more intimately than others of my time” and only to the extent that my fortunes reflected what was, as it seems to me, typical for that time.
The impressions of my first university year prompted me to seek out an answer to the question of revolutionary method even more urgently. And soon, I became convinced that Marxism offered the only satisfactory answer.This conclusion was supported partly by [the journalist] Yollos’s fascinating correspondence concerning German social-democracy, partly by the influence of older friends and finally, by the literature published under the banner of the “Emancipation of Labour.”
During the summer of 1893, I lived in a small village a few miles from Chernigov. Friends would call on me almost daily and thus, in the midst of summer diversions – endless boating, fishing, swimming – we devoted ourselves to discovering how we could best serve the “business of revolution” during our vacation. A medical student from the University of Kiev who enlightened us, bit by bit, about Marxism recommended that we undertake the re-printing of revolutionary literature. He furnished us with the required letters of recommendation and, in a few days, one of his friends brought us two brochures from Kiev, written by Engels with forwards and commentaries by Plekhanov - “The Progress of Scientific Socialism” and “L. Feuerbach.” We wasted nearly a month with the hectograph which never really worked well and, as a result, we only produced 10-15 copies of “The Progress of Scientific Socialism.” which were barely legible... This work, for me, led to my baptism into the Marxist faith, to my declaring myself a Marxist... Again, like Lasalle's assertion in his own day that “there is no power on earth that could stop the rising of the universal-historical sun”, this faith most importantly claimed that the historical process is one that fulfills the natural laws of historical necessity... Engels offered convincing grounds for Lasalle's assertion. And the recent and endless lamentation of the then popular “subjective populists” who, with Mikhailovsky, mainly raised the theme that students of Marx were doomed if only by their passive contemplation of the historical process, did nothing to eradicate this foundation. Marxism was a response to the search for a practical programme of action, it taught human reason to find support in the laws of historical imperatives, and to appropriate them. Therein lay its charm... Neophytes to this new ideology were not yet able to respond to their critics with precise formulas, but their ideas and their sentiments moved along in the necessary direction as if following the current of a river and when, a year and a half later, Bel'tov gave these formulas all the brilliance of his literary and political talents, they found in them a systematized formulation of their convictions and points of view... By the way, for revolutionary-minded young people, the positive side of Marxism also consisted in the serious academic work that it postulated and that, once and for all, finally put to rest the then still persistent attitude that posed the dilemma: scholarship or revolution? It seemed as if there was no need for any particular learning in revolution, and that those who were deeply involved in their studies were almost corrupt, “killing their revolutionary energies”, and, in any case, detracting from any practical revolutionary work. Marxism taught – Tantum possumus, quantum scimus, and presented the conception that, grounded in given sociologies, economics, philosophies, and histories, academic work was a necessary pre-condition to revolution. It widened the very breadth of revolutionary work, producing complex inquiries in the areas of science, literature, journalism... Everywhere, Marxism called forth a “roar of spring”, ferment, a re-evaluation of all values; it unsealed stormy springs of new ideas, feelings, and frames of mind.
For me to finally adopt Marxism personally as an effective revolutionary theory, the one thing I needed from the very start was to overcome my previous and uncritical view that the Marxist schema of economic progress was inapplicable to peasant Russia. In surmounting this I was helped by the writings of the group “The Liberation of Labour” and, most importantly, by the articles and brochures written by Plekhanov.
During the summer of 1893, my friend M., with whom I had become close during the demonstrations at the university the previous spring (M. was the author of the proclamation which had been signed in the name of “Socialist-Revolutionaries") had to travel to a zoological station on the White Sea for his work, and prior to this had stopped in Berlin. From Berlin he brought back, sewn into the lining of his coat, 10 volumes of essays by Herzen, 3 books of collected writings from “The Social-Democrat,” Plekhanov's “Our Discord,” as well as his “Russian Workers in the Revolutionary Movement”, among other Marxist literature... My entire second year at university (1893-94) was spent in a thorough and careful study of this literature and, more to the point, its influence determined the start of my own literary activities.
It is, in fact, from this time that Marxism really began to gain its success among the most progressive youth. Marxist speakers were attending student gatherings in the evenings much more often to try and popularize their ideas. They would invariably appear at university seminars, and Marxist circles were forming as independent study groups. And the pull to begin work among the industrial workers could already be felt, aiming to create a wider labour movement. It was namely the raising of this last problem as the most fundamental one facing the revolutionary movement that brought about a new period - a period of rupture with the “People's Will” party, which was already becoming obsolete. In the fall of 1893, the “People's Will” released a number of publications, among them No. 2 of “The Flying Leaflet” and “Alexander III”. The radical-revolutionary populist character of these publications was clearly losing its influence among the intelligentsia since it lacked a satisfactory answer to questions raised by the newly-recognized problems of the revolutionary movement. The epigones of the populist movement had spent their revolutionary credit. They denied the advisability of striving to organize a broad workers' movement in the face of existing police despotism. They considered political freedom to be a necessary precondition before a workers’ movement would be possible, a condition that was unattainable without the overthrow of tsarist autocracy. So they worked on creating organizations of workers' circles to spread a broad anti-government, revolutionary propaganda. In contrast, the Marxists, or Social Democrats found their centre of gravity in a class-conscious workers' movement; it was in this that they saw both the precondition for, and the guarantee of, the revolution's success. In its recent history, the Petersburg workers movement was inspired by the conviction that the newly raised problems concerning the revolution appeared as the expression of revolutionary realism nurtured and cultivated under the light of objective science. This could be seen in their address to the ailing N.V. Shelgunov and again in their presence at the writer's funeral, and especially clearly in the “four speeches” that were delivered during the 1 May celebrations of 1891. In preparation for the creation of a broad working-class movement, a corresponding cadre of conscientious leaders was required, and the revolutionary work of that time converged on the formation of workers' circles which were led, typically, by the social-democratic intelligentsia with the goal of this becoming a widely-based and self-directed development.
This work, in its socialist-cultural character, continued intensively and on a fairly wide scale after 1893. It began in the early 1890's under Brusnev's Marxist circle and, after his defeat (in April, 1892) the work was continued by the technological students who had been Brusnev's friends. The pioneers of the social-democratic movement formed casual ties with workers and attempted to use these to create new workers' circles. They would also sometimes become connected with circles that had already been established by the populists and, little by little, they brought their lessons and new methods to these circles, despite them having their own traditions.
It is precisely because social-democratism was the new answer to the question of revolutionary method that the first social democrats made a great show of breaking with “politics” as a counterbalance to the conspiratorial organization of revolutionaries who put forward the goal of a wide working-class movement in order to overthrow the autocracy and who moved forward methodically, step by step, in order to realize this goal. Thus, at this stage the social-democratic movement reacted with hostility to any efforts to draw the workers and their organizations into any political struggles, seeing as these were belched from out-dated populism by a class-less “intelligentshchina.” In this way, the Marxist intelligentsia and the conscientious workers who considered themselves social-democrats were, at that time, of one mind and it may even be said that the attitude of the workers significantly strengthened the corresponding attitude of the intelligentsia that had ties with them. M. Olminsky wrote of his memories of a later time (9): “In Irkutsk, on our way to exile, I had to repel the first attacks of the old populists, remaining as they had been of old and admonishing me for my joining the more conservative social-democrats.” These “first attacks”, admonitions belittling the revolutionary movement for lowering the revolutionary banners – began and became amplified precisely in the time I am describing. All of the evening gatherings among the students were arenas for an impassioned polemic between the populists and the social-democrats, between populism and Marxism. From one side came the charge of betrayal against the revolution, judged to be a deadly sin; from the other came accusations of Jacobinism, groundless intellectualism, impotent Don-Quixotism. This polemic continued for several years...
The social-democrats, no less than their opponents, yearned for political freedom which was so necessary for a victorious outcome. All of their “treason” amounted to a new method of revolutionary struggle which, at the key stage in its development, was to replace autocracy with the organically developed victorious strength of a cohesive and conscientious proletariat. If the commitment to revolutionary duty had demanded that the revolutionaries sacrifice everything, even their lives, it now demanded a sacrifice of a very different type. In place of a difficult but nonetheless effective fight, it became necessary to give one’s strength to a struggle of resistance, like ants, without ostentation and invisible, and from certain aspects the relegating of dear ideals to oblivion. But this was only a different path to achieve those very same ideals. The sacrificial effort also remained, but which form of sacrifice was psychologically more difficult? - who can answer this question?..
These new tendencies were inevitably reflected in the fate of the student organizations as interest in them fell and their influence weakened. The university 'Kassa' seemingly fell into decay. The most prominent delegates from its 'representative committee' left to join the workers' movement which appealed to them especially because of its respectful and comradely approach. It is true that they did not completely sever all ties with the organization to which they had recently given so much of their efforts. Besides the piety of memory, ties with the 'Kassa' forced them to support those who remained at its centre so that they could continually find new followers for the workers' movement. Equally, they made use of the ‘Kassa’s’ sympathetic and friendly environment in which they could make inquiries about the development of their own techniques in the most diverse ways. But any interest that they might have had in the organization as such was completely gone, even though they were members of considerable influence. Novices joined the 'Kassa' demanding that it operate like a professional student organization, but these expectations were soon disappointed. The organization was falling apart and only its unsinkable leader, F.B. Bartold, with only the smallest number of supporters, busied himself with plans for student “action.” As a result of making a show of himself too openly as the spokesman of an illegal student organization, Bartold was banished (it seems in February, 1894) from Petersburg. From the time of his exile there was practically no one left in the 'Kassa' who actively took up the running of the organization. The remaining members of the representative body felt that the ferment which united them not so long ago had lost its strength, had become out-dated and would not return, that the whole structure of the organization was already obsolete and that if any like-minded individuals were still to meet, it would be on different ground... Under the influence of this mood it was decided that we would bid a friendly “farewell” to one another, drawn away to other groups.
Photographs were taken of Mrozovsky and our group at the beginning of April, but they were not yet developed by April 19 – 20 when mass arrests took place, destroying two revolutionary organizations: The Peoples' Will, and The Peoples' Right (10) – and a number of participants in our group, especially those with ties to workers' circles – turned out to have also been arrested. A group of other members from recent years had worked energetically with the “Union for the Liberation of the Working Classes.” (Of those that I remember – unfortunately my ties with this group were not preserved – I can name Leman, A.V. Neystroyev, N.F. Bogdanov)... In the autumn of 1894 the “board of representatives” of the 'Kassa' (met again), made up of older members – a few of its prior leaders had returned: they replaced the younger ones who showed little development with regards to politics, evidently gravitating more toward student professionalism. Several founding members of the 'Kassa', having begun their political education in this organization, remembered later that they had begun university as “political infants.”(11)
In my recollection of those arrests during the Spring of 1894, they are linked with two tragedies which took the lives of two acquaintances. Soon after the arrests, my gymnasium friend Pavlenko, who had always been a little unbalanced in his youth, lost his mind while in prison awaiting trial. He was the son of the Procurator in whose house our first Gymnasium reading circle used to meet. A short time later, during the summer, a student who had completed the Gymnasium two years before me, P. Malyuga, hung himself in the same prison. The circumstances concerning his suicide and its cause remained unclear; in his youth he had kept to himself and was seriously absorbed by academic work from his earliest days in the Gymnasium... Later, as the political struggle intensified, similar tragedies were repeated fairly often and, every time, young people reacted to them with at least a memorial demonstration. Malyuga's suicide took place in the summer and was mentioned in the autumn only in the publications of the 'Kassa' and the 'Red Cross'...
The “Spring Troubles” brought about the appearance of Marxism in public life, appearing at this time in the legal – which is the main point - journalistic literature. Legal Marxist literature did not exist and illegal publications were quite rare. But suddenly, in the legal journals, a systematic discussion with Marxists began as they stepped forward at student gatherings, learned societies, university seminars, in the “salons” of the Petersburg intelligentsia, etc. Famous publicists such as Mikhailovsky, Krivenko, Yuzhakov, and others fulminated against the “enemy” unfamiliar to the large majority of their readers. They revealed the new direction being taken by “refusing one's inheritance”, they argued with speakers at illegal evening gatherings, and with Struve's(*) articles, printed in German economics journals, which contended that Marxists were not revolutionaries, reproaching them for their yearning to dispossess the peasants of their land and permit the development of Kulakization.
In his article “Who Are These Friends and How do They Argue with the Social-Democrats?” V.I. Ulyanov [V.I. Lenin] sharply rebuked these “critics.” My friend M., who had been arrested in April but was released during the summer, got hold of a copy of the manuscript of this article, bought a “Cosmopolis” typewriter, and returned to his wife in Borzensky Uyezd in the Guberniya of Chernigov. It is a rare gift to be able to influence those around us and to draw them into the completion of our own plans; here M. inspired his elderly father-in-law, a country priest with a temperament easily ignited to enthusiasm. And so, this 60 year old rural cleric, along with his daughter and son-in-law, spent whole days sitting in their barn working the typewriter, reproducing this Marxist polemical brochure! Alas, a significant portion of this publication, produced in this peaceful, rural backwood, was overtaken by a sad fate. When the copies were ready (numbering somewhere around 100) M. brought them to me in Chernigov. Unfortunately, he arrived the day before my return to the city from Ufimsky province (from a koumiss cure) and startled my family with this bale of illegality: not long before this there had been a series of searches and arrests of students in Chernigov and my younger brother and sister, still studying at the Gymnasium, were taken in to the office of the gendarmes for questioning, although it was unclear whether as witnesses or as suspects. Returning to Chernigov the next day, I wasn't able to catch M. but worse than this, I learned with bitterness that a large part of the bale had been destroyed. However, my mother was able to save 20-25 copies of the brochure and, having distributed some of them in Chernigov and sending others on to Kiev, I was still able to bring 10 copies with me to Petersburg... At that time, Marxist propaganda still used primitive methods.
The most important event of the autumn of 1894 was the first statement to be made legally by the Marxists – the publication of P. B. Struve's famous book - Critical Notes on the Question of Russia's Economic Development. It delivered a scathing critique of the Populist-Subjectivists' sociological ideas, countered these with the scientific theory of “economic materialism” and answered the question, still confusing to many, of whether it was possible for Russia to avoid the way of capitalist development. A great cry was raised in response to the final sentence of the book: “No, we recognize our lack of culture and will go to be schooled in capitalism.”: this was interpreted as a readiness to sacrifice the producer to the exploiter. Later, N. Bel'tov admitted that “Struve, all in all, had not expressed himself carefully, thus surely leading many simpletons into temptation while gladdening a few acrobats,” while a historian of Russian Social-Democracy even found that, “the exultant tone of the author in ascertaining the triumph of capitalism, the absence of any direction, or even of any hints about the inevitability of the struggle with capitalism, a struggle different from the one seemingly being fought by the Populists, all of this served to further complicate rather than clarify the impression of Marxism held by the intelligentsia.”(12) Lenin also critiqued Struve's book from this point of view soon after it was published, writing under the pseudonym K. Tulin in the article “Populist Economic Planning and its Critique in Struve's Book.” “The fundamental line in the author's reasoning, which he notes from the very beginning, is his narrow objectivism, organized around the proof of the inevitability and necessity of process, and that we should not rush to reveal each concrete stage of this process as inherently taking on the form of class antagonism, - objectivism is characterized as a general process, and not as the antagonistic classes in particular, separated from the struggles which the process encompasses.”
However, in wider Marxist circles, similar observations, exchanged during discussions at endless evening gatherings, were not considered to be well founded at the time: in the incriminating phrase, the exultant tone that ascertained the triumph of capitalism, we saw no “carelessness” of expression, no “narrow objectivism,” but a militant polemical sharpening of the question of the inevitability of process, of “going for training” which would signify - “making necessity the dutiful servant of reason.” “The absence of any direction, or even any hints about the inevitability of the struggle with capitalism” - may have “confused the impression of Marxism” only for “simpletons” but would be essential for students in the preparatory class. “The general process” does not exist since it is “encompassed by the class struggle.” Apart from censorial considerations, whose persuasiveness was demonstrated, by the way, in the fate of the publication in which the article by K. Tulin-Lenin was printed, (13) “objectivism” corresponded to the mood of the time, turning it again into a sharp polemic. Even Struve's phrase: “sympathy with the workers as a single mass is not the monopoly of the Populists, and we also feel a deep pity for the ravaged sufferer – the people” - admitted the superfluous: the marxists had arrogantly thrown “regret” and “pity” out of their lexicon, they did not see any need to justify themselves. They recognized the necessity of capitalism, went to it “for training”, but, thinking dialectically, they saw it not as a fossilized form of exploitation, but a stage in the process that would give birth to a new force, a force that would be able to put an end to all historical forms of exploitation. Those who found the answer to the question of revolutionary method and the path to the struggle for socialism in Marxism did not fear these suspicions and accusations of helping the exploiters: the latter could only originate from “simpletons” and “acrobats”... (14) Despite all the mortal sins that the “simpletons” and “acrobats” accused them of, the Marxists did not see themselves as guilty and, in reality, they were not to blame...
Alexander III passed away on October 3,1894 in the Livadiya Palace and his death caused an unusual agitation among the people, expressing itself mainly in an extraordinary number of rumours and expectations whose sources were unknown. Since they were groundless, one could not deny that they qualified as “senseless dreams", coming shortly after Nicholas II's ascension to the throne...
The university reflected this national mood and the remaining Marxist core of the 'Kassa' decided to make use of it. Of all the student movements at the university during my time there, none were as carefully considered as those that were conceived of and led by the Marxists, and none followed such strictly drawn-up plans. This uniqueness lay in the fact that their mission was not to stage political demonstrations; they consciously followed the most moderate form of agitation in order to achieve the goal of giving the largest number of unenlightened students an “object-lesson” in political education. And then, based only on the results of this, would they carry these students forward to political demonstrations. The movement was founded on new Marxist tactics, the same tactics that were used in the workers' movement and that came to be called “economism” - a method of broad agitation based on immediate and local interests. Since the immediate interests of the university consisted of keeping order, as established by the University Charter, any agitation needed to concentrate on raising the necessity of reviewing this Charter. And in order to make this movement as attractive as possible, all of its student members clothed themselves in loyal dress, casting the watchword of sending a petition to the new sovereign regarding the university's needs. The founders of the movement and their supporters clearly understood what would result for its members in the event of any successful broad agitation; meetings of the 'Kassa's' 'representative committee' and later university gatherings confidently took on the appearance of being completely legal and compliant with the rules. After the 'Kassa' published a number of suitable proclamations, a group met at the university and approved the principle of compiling a petition. Endless discussions began concerning the desired principles and changes we wanted to see in the University's Charter. The “fundamental principles” were discusssed in 'Kassa' circles, summarized, printed, and then discussed again at further meetings. I remember that the question of whether women should be admitted to university was debated for several days in a row. As the movement was confused and inexperienced, the administration of the university did not launch any energetic steps to stop this “disorder”, as the very fact of the meetings shows. But the Inspectorate and its agents were carefully observing what was happening...
One of the most zealous members of the movement, working on its behalf day and night, was M. He never missed a single meeting, he was ready with a speech to address almost every question of principle, he recorded all of our decisions and formulated them into a compilation of “fundamental tenets.” For questions yet to be discussed, he compiled lecture notes with bibliographic indexes to the relevant literature. And, rewriting all of this on his “Cosmopolis” machine, he duplicated it on a hectograph. I often helped him with this work which took place in the most curious conditions. M. lived with his wife and infant daughter in a large apartment (on Nevsky) overcrowded with various tenants who repeatedly passed back and forth along the narrow, long corridor where his two rooms were. The typewriter was noisy and just before the end of every line a small bell would ring. To stop the bell from ringing, I had to hold a pillow against it all the time; muffling the noise of the typing was not possible. And we always waited tensely in case our work might be interrupted by the arrival of the police. Our strained nerves only found relief in the crying of the baby which would mask the sound of the typewriter... Our work often stretched until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, and I would take all of the completed “literature” away with me so that it could be brought to the university on the following day. M., in the urgency of this work, would often smear himself with typewriter ink – not only his hands, but his forehead too, and he would arrive at our meetings with these clear signs of having taken part in some “criminal” activity. And he, of course, was the movement's first sacrificial victim when it was decided to do away with him. This happened during the Christmas vacation, which I spent at home. The “object-lesson” struck wide: the petition had not even begun to collect signatures (it seems it had not yet been worked into its final version), when, under the orders of the Administrative Governor of Petersburg, dozens of students were expelled for one, two, or three years; of these, some had not been active in the movement and some had even opposed it. Those expelled, as always in these circumstances, had all been noted by the University Inspectorate and the Okhranka... It was assumed that the “martyrs” were the initiators of the movement, but no reaction followed on the part of the student masses who had joined them in their “plan”. The “object-lesson” did not lead to any political demonstration; the students as a whole reacted to the expulsion of their friends with, if not indifference, then passivity. The disappointment that came from the results of this movement made the idea of students acting as a vanguard in the political struggle ultimately obsolete. The attitude now formed that the student movement only gave the police an easy opportunity to tear the most valuable elements out of the university, without gaining the students any political meaning or significance. Among the student-marxists who, at this time, were taking on roles as leaders within the student organizations, the conviction that the most expedient form of political struggle lay with the workers' social-democratic movement became firmer and they encouraged the revolutionary student body to lend it all of its strength.
During the following years of student agitation and under the influence of this new conviction, the 'Kassa' typically used all of its authority and influence to dampen any resentment that might force its way through by validating its new position, even in pamphlet-proclamations that were printed during moments of ripe and forceful agitation. But considering the semi-legal character of the 'Kassa', this validation had to be created without a distinct voice and with a sufficiently Aesopian language that it created misunderstandings. Young students who entered the university in a revolutionary frame of mind, and who not only did not yet understand Marxism but had not even heard much about it, could not understand the proclamations that called not for political demonstrations but for keeping peace and order at the university. The misunderstandings were made more intense by opponents to Marxism – the People's Will supporters attacked the Marxists for causing the revolutionary spirit to become extinct. But at the time, Marxist orators were stepping forward, giving speeches in which they were careful to dot every ‘i’, calling for the revolutionary mood and strength to be safeguarded against the fruitless waste of ephemeral political demonstration and applied, instead, to the effective, systematic, and expedient struggle of social-democracy. Meetings where the burning questions of the day were raised turned into bitter wars of words between two revolutionary ideologies – Populism and Social-Democracy, and in this polarized atmosphere we were often forced to forget about the real reason for the meeting. These thoughtful young people never received their revolutionary baptism. Instead, they received an ideological push toward political self-determination and made their choice of which path to consciously follow. I clearly remember two young students who not only indignantly refused to pass out 'Kassa's' pamphlets calling for calm during the autumn demonstrations of 1896, but announced that they would destroy them. “Your pamphlets are playing into the Okhranka's hands, they may even be published by them, and not by the student organization!” they protested in worry. They did not want to listen to the objection that the Okhranka, in fact, is always glad when there is agitation and, if pamphlets really came from the secret police, then they would likely call for the strongest possible demonstration.(15) Within a month or two, both of these students had completely cooled toward any “student business” and had joined the workers' movement where, as nameless figures, they played out their humble role.
IV.
Student Agitation at the University of Petersburg 1895-1896, - The Suicide of M.F. Vetrov - Student Meetings and the “Vetrov Demonstration” of March 4, 1897 - The Suicide of S.S. Kostromin and Student Agitation during 1898 - The Failed Demonstration - Toward a Biography of S.S. Kostromin.
I will speak of the student demonstrations of 1895-1898 as briefly as possible.
No more than two months had passed since the extinction of the “petition” movement of 1894 when new demonstrations arose that were, by any measure, insignificant but that were called forth by events that were almost analogous to those that caused the large demonstrations of 1899. However, this time the heavy use of police tyranny and violence made sacrificial victims out of “golden youth.” At the centre of this development was the long-held conviction that on February 8, the date of the University's Founder’s Day, “all was permitted” to the students. This “all” was tied in, of course, with unbridled misbehaviour at the “Alkazar” circus and other like institutions, with drunken debauchery, etc. On this occasion, at about 2:00 in the morning, the police, along with some custodians, fell upon a fairly significant group of uproarious students in the Palkin restaurant and beat them brutally. Among the victims there was (perhaps by accident) even one professor (Ch. - a nationalist with right-wing convictions), who came out of the “Battle of the Palkin”, as the event came to be called, with serious bruises on his face. The slaughter also deliberately endangered a number of students who, at the time, were returning from traditional tea-drinking at a shop on Borovoy Street. The assault was cruel; some victims were so badly hurt that they were almost crippled. The next day, a gathering of students met at the university and this was repeated again and again over the next three or four days. The radical faction took advantage of the circumstances to deliver two or three strongly-worded political speeches and also raised the claim that an investigation into the actions of the police was absolutely necessary. Some well-known lawyers became involved in the proceedings and, it seems, two or three of the victims did file a suit against some police. This action, understandably, came to nothing...
The demonstrations of 1896 were more serious. The impetus for them came from students in Moscow. A delegate from Moscow arrived in Petersburg and approached the 'Kassa' regarding their attitude toward a proposed “action.” Its aim and its format were not made clear, its motivation was reduced to foggy phrasing about the struggle with the political regime because of conditions at the university. The 'representative committee' held a referendum on this issue with the outcome that this initiative was rejected due to the Marxist view that student agitation was ineffective. Yet, despite this outcome, student demonstrations did ignite in Moscow, taking the form of demonstrations in memory of the victims of the 'Khodynka Field” catastrophe. As a result, dozens of students were expelled from the university and sent home... The University of Petersburg became agitated due to feelings of comradely solidarity. The 'Kassa' pamphlets which supported restraint were unable to stop the meetings which continued to take place in spite of them. After the embittered polemic between the Marxists and their opponents, somehow a new question surfaced... - regarding the University's Charter. They invited the Rector to one of these meetings and presented him with their “demands.” The Rector responded to this quite reasonably by saying that it was not within his rights to change the Charter, nor did he have the right to accept a list of “demands” from the students. On the third or fourth day, Kapustin, a Trustee of the Learned Society, appeared. Having listened to several speeches on the theme of necessary university reform, he said that it surprised him that, given that there were a number of jurists among the students, they did not understand that any change to the Charter must be made according to the proper legislative process. He observed, ironically, that the students themselves did not know what they wanted; for example, the Charter of 1863, the restoration of which was commonly “demanded”, was far from ideal. He finished by pointing out that demands for revising the Charter are brought forward almost every year and the administration cannot take the haphazard views of an illegal assembly into account. Nonetheless, the students asked the Trustee if he might take their “demands” to the Minister for State Education in order to stimulate discussion of the question of university reform by to legal means. They quickly began to formulate these demands, but the Trustee merely waved his hands and, like the Rector, said that he had no right to accept any demands but, in reporting to the Minister on all developments at the university, he would also include some mention of these demands, which he claimed he knew well... He concluded with the warning that any more meetings at the university would not be tolerated and, if they continued, then the university would be passed into the hands of “another power”... Usually, when threats like these came from the administration, they only heightened our resolve but this time, whether because of the threat or because the energies of the student body had run dry, the meetings came to an end. This also served, of course, to neutralize the 'Kassa', whose members, after the political speeches during the first stages of these gatherings, limited themselves to being observers of what was happening and took no part in the discussions with the Rector or the Trustee. Once the meetings had stopped, the students comforted themselves with the naïve assertion that, essentially, the students had “won”: their “demands” would be presented to the Minister by the Trustee, and they would give a push toward raising the question of university reform through legal means. It seems that the final speech at the meeting addressed this idea. And as to the comradely solidarity with the victims of the Moscow demonstrations which had given rise to these gatherings in the first place, it had somehow been forgotten...
There were no meaningful connections between the “university regime” and the significant demonstrations that broke out in all of the institutions of higher learning in Petersburg, and that spread to the provinces (Moscow, Kiev) in the spring of 1897. What caused them was so exceptional, it so hit a nerve, that this time no “principled” differences of opinion arose.
As soon as news spread of the female student M.F. Vetrova's self-immolation in the Petropavelsky Fortress, it was assumed, without any referendum or speeches and accepted universally, that this terrible fact must be responded to with demonstrations.
It is true, the demonstration took the form of a memorial service for the miserable suffering of prisoners in the Petropavelsky Fortress which came to stand as a symbol of the political regime. But the political character of the demonstration that masked itself as a memorial service would have been clear to all but the most naïve “simpletons” since there were so many political proclamations and pamphlets, printed by student organizations as well as anonymously, to open their eyes. The 'Kassa', and the newly-created Council of United Countrymen (zemlyachestva) that worked with it, did not issue any proclamations to their colleagues, but did issue an appeal “To Society.” It was not only due to the semi-legality of the 'Kassa' but also in consideration of tactical concerns - because they feared that they might scare off more moderate students and force them to abstain from demonstrating - that this appeal was expressed with relatively temperate wording and tone. That this kind of tactical approach was not without foundation was proven to me, as chairman of the 'Kassa’, on more than one occasion. Individual students repeatedly pointed out that it was necessary to take measures so that workers did not take part because, in their view, this would give the demonstrations an “undesirable” character. To all of these appeals, I invariably answered that the 'Kassa' had nothing to do with issuing an appeal to the workers, and taking measures to insure that workers did not participate in the demonstrations could not be seen as our responsibility. This answer caused dissatisfaction and unconcealed suspicions that the 'Kassa' had secret plans to draw the workers into this action.
Refuting such suspicions was annoying and tedious... But, understandably, such suspicions forced us to issue the clearly revolutionary proclamation “To the People” anonymously. It clarified the causes and purpose of the demonstration and was sent out to all the little shops and stores that were located along the route of the demonstration's procession. During the night before the demonstration (that is, March 3 - 4) dozens of students distributed the proclamation by placing it in mailboxes throughout various neighbourhoods in the city.
On March 4, 4-5 thousand young people gathered in and around Kazan Cathedral, and the demonstration took on the qualities of a purely student-led action: a group of workers who had arrived without invitation and some representatives of the radical intelligentsia only amounted to several dozen individuals. The workers' organizations, already combined in the “United Struggle to Liberate the Working Class” deliberately refrained from making any appeal to the workers join the demonstration. They found that their movement was still at a stage where political action could weaken it and unfavourably influence its planned development. This “performance” also spoke against the then-current tactics of the Social-Democrats which would later receive the name “economism' and which recognized that to act now would be premature...
Whether the priest knew for which “servant of God” Maria he was performing the funeral, as a deputation of young people asked him, or whether it was the sight of the uncommon number of people filling the cathedral which forced him to become guarded, he categorically refused to serve the funeral rites. The many-voiced choir then sang out “Memory Eternal” and many began to light the candles they were holding... With the singing of “Memory Eternal” and “Holy God”, people began to leave the cathedral but there happened to be only one open exit and that led onto Kazansky Street. The crowd of demonstrators made their way toward Nevsky Prospect but a detachment of mounted police, already waiting in the surrounding streets, blocked the road and forced them to turn back toward Kazansky Street; only a few dozen made it through to Nevsky Prospect where they were forced to scatter. The police behaved correctly, without the use of whips which would later be used in similar circumstances, but the presence of these large divisions cutting off the road from both sides and then surrounding the crowd gave rise to panic. The crowd rushed back to Kazansky Street and, finding itself on a high portico, began to jump, fall, lose their hats, their boots... I remember one student with a confused expression on his face, hatless, running toward the portico and shouting, evidently in an attempt to calm himself:
“Friends, don't be afraid! They won't shoot!”
Someone shouted to him: “For shame, comrade!”, raising his voice to the confused student and, somehow, all signs of rising panic disappeared; the crowd calmed down.
Surrounded on all sides by divisions of mounted police, the imposing crowd of demonstrators could only move along Kazansky Street, where it had first gone with the singing of “Memory Eternal” and “Holy God”, continuing all the while down the long road toward the Kazansky police station. All of the balconies and windows along the route were filled with amazed residents, watching this unprecedented show with curiosity – a peaceful demonstration escorted by mounted police. All of the demonstrators found that the demonstration was proceeding very well, and the future question of accountability - it was clear to everyone that the police escort's goal was not to allow the procession to grow more imposing in any way - troubled us little and did not spoil the mood: everyone was sure that the sheer number of demonstrators was a guarantee against any serious repression. It is true that, along the way, the number of demonstrators diminished significantly: regardless of the given slogan – do not scatter - everyone who “sensibly” wished to escape from any accountability made their way past the cordon and withdrew. The police not only did not hinder those who wished to leave, but by using some clever manoeuvres, they would cut off the tail of the demonstration at each intersection we crossed, dispersing those who had been blocked from proceeding. Outside of the Kazansky police station, where we were made to wait for several suspenseful hours, the police made a list of all the demonstrators, totalling nearly 1200 people. Before making the list, they demanded proof of identification and, as I recall, those who did not have their papers with them had to spend the night in the police station. During the meetings that were held at the university the following day, as well as in the higher women's courses and at the Technological Institute, the suggestion was raised that everyone who had been at the demonstration but had not been included on the list compiled by the police should make their participation known in order to shoulder the responsibility with those who had been identified. It was decided that all those who had not been included on the list would submit their signatures. But what followed was almost two days of annoying and boring debate about what title this collection of signatures should have. The idea that it should be called ‘A List of Those Who Took Part in the Demonstration in Memory of Vetrova, Who Was Tortured in Prison’, met with sharp protest. Speeches were given in which the orators declared that they took part, not in a demonstration, but in an attempt to attend a funeral, and that they had not imagined that the government could hinder the proper fulfillment of a Christian rite. Others spoke against the overly political character of the suggested title and found it absolutely necessary to stress the purely student-led character of the demonstration. One speaker even stated that, although he had not been at the demonstration, he was ready to help those who feared taking responsibility by adding his signature to the list, but only if the event was not portrayed as a demonstration. It is true, this “generous” offer brought forth a storm of indignation, whistles, and the response that no one feared taking responsibility, and that those who took part in the demonstration should not hide, but should help shoulder that responsibility with those on the police list, and should do so out of feelings of solidarity with their comrades. But the whole quality of this debate nonetheless carried an unpleasant dissonance into what, in general, was a successfully conducted demonstration. Those on the side of the more extreme formulation of the title gave several clear and political speeches but when the discussions took such an uncomfortable turn, everyone supported the unanimously agreed on formulation – A List of Individuals Who, on March 4, Attended the Funeral in the Kazan Cathedral. The number of signatories did not match the actual number of those that took part in the event: the fear of any consequences proved to still be an influence. The list of several hundred signatories (as I recall, nearly 1000), together with the list of students from the Higher Women's Courses were, if I am not mistaken, sent by post to the Governor. Other institutions of higher learning also sent their own lists with signatures.
But no one paid any attention to these lists; only those demonstrators that were identified at the Kazansky police station were held liable. I don't recall if it came from a committee of ministers or from some higher authority, but all of them (except for the female students who received a reprimand) were sentenced to three days in “Kresty”... With this, the matter was closed.
The following year, another terrible event occurred when the uncommonly likeable and charming statistician S.S. Kostromin, who worked in the Customs Department, fell as a victim while under arrest prior to his trial – an event which struck my nerves even more painfully. But the reaction on the part of the engaged youth was different this time; to be more precise, there was no reaction. The event produced several sharply worded proclamations, calling for a response to this new victim of systematic despotism. But others spoke of the expedient revolutionary struggle for which we needed to conserve our strength and not waste it on fruitless demonstrations which, in this moment, threatened to take on a different quality than the demonstration held in Vetrova's memory.
There were many complicated reasons for this change, not least of which was the role played by the “Murav'esky troubles”(*) which had already begun at the university. This was a collaborative response to events that had surfaced at the University of Warsaw led by the professors there on the unveiling of the memorial to Murav'ev – the hangman of Vilna. This was a repetition of what had already taken place in 1893 during the “Franco-Russian” problem, but in a stronger and sharper form with nationalist and reactionary students attending the meetings. In their 'hurrah-patriotic' speeches, the Polish question was treated in the tone, and from the point of view, of the journal “New Times” (Novoye Vremya). This actually provided the means for a political polemic to develop which continued for several days in a row and during which several strikingly revolutionary speeches were delivered. But this discord within the university walls caused the student vanguard much bitterness and they expressed their objection to it. Finally, the meetings were terminated with instructions to the 'Kassa' to send a message in the name of the Petersburg students expressing sympathy with the students of Warsaw. This decision was supported by a huge majority, but this result was wrung, to a considerable degree, out of highly dubious arguments. It was suggested that the professors in Warsaw deserved to be blamed because it was their conduct that had ignited political dissent within the walls of their university, where, as a shrine of learning, a national impartiality should reign etc. Of course, the statement from the “Kassa” did not include any like arguments, but its wording was not made public at the meeting...
I knew S.S.Kostromin quite well and always sensed a kind of anguish, a spiritual fracture in his past. My father died in 1894 and, in 1895, our entire family moved to Petersburg. In 1896, my mother, who always sought out some kind of social activism, played an energetic role in the development of a survey on the condition of elementary education in Russia that was under the direction of the Free-Economic Society through the initiative and leadership of G.A. Falberk and V.I. Charnolysky. A group of young people (all volunteers) was organized for this project who would come together in our apartment to discuss general questions and techniques pertaining to their work. The director of this project was S.S. Kostromin. I was only involved in this work in the smallest way, and only during its early stages. But I came to know S.S. Kostromin fairly well; I visited with him, arranged tickets for him to evening events, and obtained currently banned literature for him; he brought me a copy of Kautsky's “Ehrfurt Programme”, a great rarity at the time, from Berlin where he had been involved in finalizing some trade negotiations. Unusually energetic and curious about everything, S.S did not miss a single interesting evening gathering, and was particularly drawn to Marxism and the workers' movement. Through me, he regularly contributed small sums to the "Red Cross" and the “Union of Struggle” (Soyuz Bor'by) Yet, during our discussions on political themes, I always sensed in him some kind of sore spot, which I explained to myself by assuming a discontent on his part with revolutionary attitudes, and an inability to take part in the revolutionary movement due to his own circumstances (S.S was married and had a two or three year old daughter.) It turned out that the drama was deeper and more complex...
If I am not mistaken, I was with S.S on March 21, 1898 when we attended a lecture by the Marxist Iyonov at the Free-Economic Society.
After the lecture and the discussion which followed, we returned home together in peaceful conversation, only parting around 1:00 in the morning. Arriving at home, I barely had time to lie down in my bed when the bell began ringing and the apartment filled with gendarmes and police... Their search lasted for 12 hours but I was not arrested. That same night, S.S. Kostromin was arrested. His wife came to see my mother the next day. She was extremely upset and begged for our help, asking us to intercede for his release and swearing that he would not be able to bear a single night's imprisonment. Since she had several connections in the world of procurators and, of course, grateful that the arrest had no serious basis, my mother quickly set off to determine what would be involved in freeing S.S. But, regrettably, this was the last business day before Easter, and there wasn't time to complete all of the formalities required for his release... Meanwhile, during a meeting with his wife, also arranged by my mother with much effort, he repeated several times : “plead for me, plead for me, I cannot bear it”...
The poor woman, finally losing her head, rushed about in all directions but the coming holidays closed all doors to her...
I have forgotten on which day of Easter, but in early April I awoke around 4:00 am to a loud ringing. The impressions from the previous search were still fresh; they had already dragged me to the gendarmerie twice for questioning and, of course, as I rushed to answer the door, I thought, - “now, the arrest”... My mother was already answering the door, and behind the door stood V.I. Charnolysky. He stood without expression; it was clear that he had brought us bad news.
His news consisted of the following: that during the evening of the previous day, in his prison cell, S.S. Kostromin had broken a small china plate and with a splinter of it had opened the artery in his left arm... They informed his wife of his death late that night, telling her that his body would be moved from the prison to Nikolayevsky Station at 7:00 the next morning for burial in the Preobrazhensky cemetery... I was so shaken by all of this that I could not find the physical strength – to go to the funeral...
The funeral was attended by no more than 2 dozen friends and loved ones whom there had been time to notify during the night.
As far as I recall, the funeral was attended by: N.F. Annensky, V.E. Pokrovsky, G.A. Falbork, V.I. Charnolysky and his wife, the wife of the deceased, my mother, and several students... But I could not remain at home: I spent the whole day, to the point of complete exhaustion, telling organizations and acquaintances what had happened...
One year before this, news of the terrible death of Vetrova had inspired an instantaneous and unanimous decision – to demonstrate. But now, things were more complicated, and the question of how to react to this event brought forth serious disagreement. A group of Marxists, to which I belonged (I must confess that I was reacting less with reason than with nerves) supported a political demonstration that called upon all of society, including the workers – to take part. The leaders of the workers' movement categorically refused to support the inclusion of workers in the demonstration, arguing that a political act such as this was still premature and dangerous for the movement. But they did not hide the intention from themselves or their friends that, if a demonstration was held, even if only under the initiative of student organizations, then several hundred workers' representatives would take part. And they appealed to the most influential members of the student groups, persistent in their view that it was vital to hold back from forming a demonstration. I argued for a demonstration to take place on April 19 (May 1), which, as I recall, was a Sunday... Among the directors of the 'Kassa', the majority clearly leaned toward a negative response to this suggestion. Support for the final decision was overwhelming, everyone agreed that, this time, a demonstration could have highly serious consequences... A large part of the student body did not believe that demonstrations held any meaningful measure.
In this, by the way, the mood of the broad population of students was confirmed as it had been revealed during the recent “Murav'evsky Troubles.” They also pointed out that Kostromin had not been a “student-comrade”, and that this would immediately give the demonstration a sharply political voice, rather than expressing the pure desire of those students who wanted to say a final farewell to their friend, which had played such a large role in bringing so many to Kazan Cathedral for Vetrova's funeral. Then, many had gone to attend a funeral, not a demonstration. And now, no one could remain naïve since they were all aware of what would happen on Kazansky Square. Very few would attend the demonstration - to demonstrate is, after all, impotent – politically it is not only without purpose, but even a crime.
I recognized the justification for many of the 'contra' arguments, but my nerves forced me to still argue energetically for the 'pro' side... The group of directors finally decided not to take the decision on themselves, and resorted to a referendum.
While the referendum was underway, a small anonymous proclamation appeared, calling for a demonstration on April 19. It was clear that the question of whether there would or would not be a demonstration would only be determined by the position that the 'Kassa' adopted. Of course, no one would respond to the anonymous summons to demonstrate since it could have been devised by the Okhranka. But everyone was nervous. Discussions began about the suspicious origins of the proclamation.
I had played no part in this proclamation's sudden appearance but I knew its source and I did take part in distributing it, leaving copies in mailboxes on Vasilyevsky Island. I remember leaving a copy in the mailbox of V.I. Pokrovsky. Within the hour, his alarmed wife came to my mother on V.I.'s request to convince me that there should not be a demonstration...
The result of the referendum, as expected, was negative and the 'Kassa' issued a statement that called for revolutionary struggle, but not for a demonstration. The demonstration did not happen.
But it continued to seem to me that it would still happen, spontaneously, despite all of the decisions made by organizations and the orders in their proclamations. So, on April 19, nevertheless, I went to Kazansky Square “to see”... I entered the cathedral... There were even fewer than the usual number of worshipers in the church (perhaps they had been frightened away by the prospect of a demonstration?). Near the cathedral, there were a few small groups of 2 – 3 – 4 people, among whom I recognized some like-minded “friends”... and a significant number of “pea jackets” and, nearby, there were squads of cavalry and kazaks at the ready...
I collected materials and information that might shed some light on Kostromin's psychological drama and on the conditions under which this catastrophe took place.
While still a student (it appears, at the Moscow Technical College) S.S had been arrested on political grounds and after a lengthy incarceration without being charged he was sentenced to a long term in jail. To serve this sentence, he was transferred to solitary confinement in “Kresty” prison in Petersburg. Here, by the end of the year, S.S had become psychologically ill. In that moment, when he was losing his reason and regaining it again, finding himself at the edge of madness, the prison sirens began to visit his cell and offer him “sensible” suggestions – to appeal to “monarchical mercy” and ask for forgiveness. But the youth stood firm and rejected this temptation; they tried to persuade him to “take pity on himself”, and obligingly brought him paper, a pen, ink, and told him that he would not be the first, that most revolutionaries acted like this... And the horror of madness pushed at him. They shoved prepared confessions at him, - just sign!... And the youth could not hold out, he signed...
Mercy did follow, but at the time when the last light of awareness was lost, the ailing man became unable to speak... They took him away to a village where he lived for almost one year. He convalesced but some speech disorders remained with him for the rest of his life. As well, there remained a spiritual anguish, a sensation of loathing... The conscience can justify an irresponsible action from the past but, in the heart, it remains vile. He returned to life and all of its interests, but S.S felt that he no longer had the right to participate in the revolutionary movement. One's own conscience justifies, but will others do the same? Will they understand? He committed an irreparable harm, of necessity... Yet, he was drawn to revolutionary interests with all his heart and soul... And suddenly, a new arrest, an arrest without sufficient foundation, they cannot keep him in jail long... But an unstable psyche topples, the sick man cannot bear the horrors of solitude, the spectre of madness rises once more before him... One can imagine what he suffered in solitary confinement and why, when meeting with his wife, he only repeated: “plea for me, plea for me... I cannot bear this.” His wife petitions, achieves some progress, but the holidays are beginning and there isn't time to reach a resolution about his release. And no one even informed S.S of the situation; everything had to follow the established rules of order... At the same time, madness is already seizing the wretched man: on the day of the catastrophe he rings to ask that the doctor be sent to him. He stands at the door and waits. When the door opens and the doctor enters, S.S pushes him aside and quickly dashes into the corridor, trying to throw himself down the stairwell from the fourth floor, trying to save himself from the horrors of madness in death! But they caught him in time and moved him... not to the hospital, but to a cell on the ground floor. And here, on that same night, he cut open his arteries with the shard of a broken china saucer....
V.
The workers' movements of the early 1890's - Economism. - Its merits. - The dispute with the Peoples' Will. - Petersburg strikes 1895-1896. - A group of populists and its publications. - “The Group of the Fourth Pamphlet”. - Nik. Fed. Bogdanov, his role in the work of the Social-Democrats, his arrest, and death. - The student 'Kassa'. - The "Red Cross". - The Search. - Foreign Trip. - My Acquaintance with G.V Plekhanov
The Russian workers' movement was, of course, the product of the socio-economic development of the country; but I will avoid speaking of its roots and preconditions since this sketch of mine is not a work of research but only tells of the flow and the facts of social life and thought which I observed and in which I played some part...
This permits me to be, to a certain extent, “superficial”, capturing in my own words at least the external manifestations of social “developments.” I already described above how, within the workers' movement, the methods of the "People's Will" party gradually changed into “social-democratic” ones, how the attitude of the more enlightened workers took on new hues as it mastered a new outlook on the developing questions and methods regarding their struggle. After the failure of the populists in April, 1894, the dominance of the social-democratic orientation among the Petersburg workers became an indisputable fact. Some workers held the view that they should be running things themselves, since they viewed the intelligentsia with some suspicion. But along with this, as much under the direct influence of social-democratic ideas as the realities of life, on whatever thoughtful calculation these ideas are based, a dissatisfaction with “clannishness” begins to show in the search for a much broader arena. This search led to the slogan: ‘broad agitation in the name of the immediate interests of the working masses’, that is on the basis of economic struggle. Here, this slogan, from different sides, reflects both the social-democratic doctrine in which the revolutionary intelligentsia finds its new method in a “programme of action”, safeguarding it with “the sympathy and support of the masses”, and the realism of the enlightened workers which sees the right path as spontaneous, namely on economic grounds where, here and there, the working masses will rise up.
Once more, I am not writing a history of the social-democratic movement, and thus will not concern myself with the prolonged and bitter battle between the various groups and factions that made up Russian social-democracy and its stand on organization and tactics, but that at least concluded by finding common threads in the movement. As previously mentioned, the emerging fundamental factors of the social-democratic movement's origins, having made presiding over the economic struggle of the working class their goal, determined a formulation of organizational and tactical principles which, for its time, appeared as the “latest word” in the revolutionary campaign. The social-democratic groups first became active in “economism” in 1894, during the changeover from former clannishness to the creation of a broader economic agitation, and especially through the work of the “Union for the Liberation of the Working Class”, which was formed near the end of 1895. “Economism” expressed the essence of the new initiative which sought to create a broad class movement in place of the conspiratorial revolutionary organizations which aimed to overthrow the autocracy, as the populist “Peoples' Will” sought to do.
I do not speak of all this with any political goal, but only to establish the direction the workers' movement was following at the moment of its transformation from small groups to broad-based agitation, that is during the years 1894-1895. “Economism” already followed from the fact that the social-democrats were paving their way along a path that would act as a counter-weight to the populists' “politics” in the incessant debate out of which new weapons were chosen. However, in 1895 this dispute did not take place so much within party organizations and literature, but within larger circles who were drawn by their sympathies to one revolutionary tactic or the other. Here, much was said about the call to revolution and the extinguishing of its soul by the social-democrats. The populists platonically sighed over the old heroic ways of struggle; they dreamt of terror (practical terror had lost its place.) The social-democrats answered back that a common labour strike is much more effective in a revolution than a terrorist's bomb. And in November of 1895, the strike at the Tornton textile factory and especially the unrest that took place at the Laferm tobacco factory in the centre of Vasilievsky Island filled the hearts of the social-democrats with great hope: the cigarette wrappers that were thrown from the broken windows and carried off by the wind, like flitting moths, seemed like the symbolic scraps of an unravelling “ancien regime” against which the “muscular arm of the worker” had finally raised itself. The strikes that took place in Petersburg during 1896 made an even stronger impression. Enthusiasts could already hear the thunder as the rotten edifice of autocracy began to crumble...
But the critics stubbornly refused to see even a hint of revolution in these events, contending that the Marxists were “corrupting” the workers... The debate, at times, even became rather funny. I remember one evening when a “populist” was ardently demonstrating the great revolutionary spirit of his party and comparing the heavy repression it faced from the government, with that faced by the social-democrats. “Would they really ever hang a social-democrat?” he exclaimed, waving his arms about...
However, at that time, when people not only talked and argued, but also acted for the revolution, the “spirit of the times” showed its powerful influence even on the most active populists. A printing press, spared in the rout of April, 1894, was handed over to a group of populist recruits which quickly issued a leaflet, referred to as No. 3, that confused those who remained faithful to the old populist standards with its new direction, moving closer to social-democracy. Subsequently, in 1895, this press published Gauptman's “Weavers” and, with it, a brochure that reflected social-democratic thinking; these gave the workers' movement some valuable material during a time of very little agitational literature. “The Working Day”,”On Fines”, and “Tsar-Hunger” were, for practical reasons, published without noting that they were “printed by a group of populists” and one of them was even designated “Permitted by the censor. Kherson, 14 November, 1894 (or 1895)”. I remember this well because, at the time, my attention was drawn to two mistakes in this designation: there was no censorship office in Kherson and November 14 was a holiday. But the gendarmes rarely noticed these errors and the brochures were assumed to be legal. I remember that one of my friends, while being searched, was found with 50 copies of this brochure with its mark of approval by the censor. The policeman turned a copy over in his hands, as did the Captain of the gendarmes, who even asked “Why do you have so many?” But the designation reassured them: no arrest was made and the brochures ended up where they were intended...
“Pamphlet From a Group of Populists” No.4, which came out in the spring of 1896, clearly gravitated toward social-democratic principles and, as such, brought forth a storm of indignation within populist circles: several provincial groups broke off from any dealings with the heretical Petersburg circle which they referred to as “the fourth pamphlet group.” The Petersburg populists issued a response against this “Pamphlet No. 4” protest, but it was very badly printed. This was the last publication of the “Peoples' Will” party: the revolutionary populists soon unified under the name of a new party, the “Socialist Revolutionaries”. But the “Pamphlet No. 4” group published one more proclamation, during the time of the famous Petersburg textile strikes of 1896, which the workers especially liked. However, it was printed under the name of a non-existent organization, the “Workers' Union” instead of a “group of populists.”
In less than a month after the Petersburg strikes – on June 13 – the “group of populists” was crushed and its printing press seized. The perpetrator of this rout was the stool-pigeon, M.I.Gurovich, who would later become well known in Petersburg's literary circles...
Despite the huge number of arrests that proceeded from the summer strikes in Petersburg (by the middle of July there were nearly a thousand and many strikers were sent out of the city) “the effect of the strikes was enormous”, as was justly asserted in the “Address by the Russian social-democrats to the International Socialist Congress in London, in 1896.” What followed was a government report on the strikes; the birth of the “workers' question” in Russia had been officially certified. A particularly strong impression was made by the calm and the discipline with which the strike was conducted. In actuality, it is difficult to imagine the rosy fog that made the heads of the Marxist intelligentsia spin during this time. Their new revolutionary methods received both justification and enthusiasm from the strikes; “strikism” became the slogan of the day. I was no longer a “green youth” but when news arrived of the strike at the Zotovy Brothers Cotton Mills in Kostroma, the usual methods of taking up a collection to aid the strikers did not satisfy me, and I took on the risky activity of taking up this collection on the streets. Determining the “trustworthiness” of passers-by at a glance, I approached them with the offer to “donate”. My judgement was never in error, although it would have been clear to a calmer analysis that the paltry sum of 20 – 30 roubles collected in this manner fuelled arguments against my “boyishness”, as my more “solid” friends severely judged me and my efforts. But for me, subjectively, the point lay not, of course, in the 20-30 roubles, - it was just pent up energy finding some release...
In the autumn of 1896, I became close friends with Nikolai Fyodorovich Bogdanov, with whom I had been acquainted from my earliest student days and my time in the “Kassa”. The Russian social-democratic movement, on account of its own character as well as the external conditions in which it came into being and continued to grow, retained the names of only a few individuals to whom it owed its success by one measure or another. But it seems to me only fair to save from oblivion the names of those who invested all of their intellectual and moral strength in the founding of the movement, who were often extremely talented, who were the movement's unsung heroes and selfless devotees, who were often consumed and ruined by it, holding onto their proud certainty that “their mournful labours and high aspirations” would not be lost.”... N.F. Bogdanov was one of these unjustly forgotten individuals whose image, however pale, I want to restore in the following paragraphs.
By the autumn of 1896, N.F was no longer a student at the university, having received his “Passing of Examination Certificate” on the completion of 8 semesters in the Faculty of Law the previous spring. Being taken up in revolutionary work, he put off completing the state examinations but did take a job at a state bank, earning 50-60 roubles a month to cover his living expenses. He lived in the famous “Lvovsk Houses” on Tenth Line, Vasilyevsky Island which, from top to bottom, were filled with young students renting little rooms from a simple elderly Estonian landlady. She absolutely adored her strange lodger, the disorder which surrounded him, and his bohemian life which surpassed all boundaries. Nik. Fed. had a physical handicap – one leg was shorter than the other – on account of which he wore an especially thick boot on the shorter leg, and he limped. This deprived him of the opportunity to work as an agitator in working-class neighbourhoods or enter into first-hand exchanges with the workers (first, moving about on foot was exhausting for him and, second, his gait made him too noticeable a figure in the eyes of the police), but these circumstances themselves gave his revolutionary work its particular direction. It is difficult to enumerate all that he did, and even harder to say what he did not do because, apart from not engaging directly with the workers, he literally ran everything: strategy and tactics, diplomacy and technique, finances and everything else. His most important problem – although he himself considered everything to be “important', - but in any case, of necessary importance – was the anxiety over guaranteeing that our movement would be uninterrupted, our own type of insurance against the comparatively frequent failures of that time. For this, above all else, he maintained a cadre of ready agitators in “shifts”, from whom he rigorously demanded “loyalty” before they set off to work; that is, to abstain from anything that might lead to them being marked by the Okhranka. When reconstructing a failed group, he always followed the course of keeping ties with agitators from among the workers. But the downfall of one of these groups was usually accompanied by arrests, including those workers with whom the group had close ties. Because of this, Nik Fed broadened the question of security, demanding from agents the most mindful and careful approach to the problem. They were not to form ties with the most active of the workers (the latter typically “flew by” along with agent-intellectuals), but were to take note of individuals among the workers who were more or less well known but not involved in the ongoing work and, thus, moderately safe from arrest. And finally, as a last resort, he convinced a few people to temporarily hold back from any political work so that, at the appropriate moment, they could help in re-establishing connections. Of course, even the most carefully considered measures taken to maintain secure connections against outside influences in an organization of provocateurs, and in the face of arrests which could, in a single moment, seize a huge number of people, were not always completely reliable.
Yet, as always after a group's failure, there remained in N.F.’s hands at least the smallest threads with which, in the end, and in comparatively short order, he would tie back together what had been torn apart, and reconstruct what had been demolished.
But these “failures” happened often, frequently penetrating to the very depths of the organization, while simultaneously striking at the farthest points along its periphery... Nik. Fed. assumed that he was sufficiently secure from any traps, since he did not work within the sphere of the Okhranka's observation. To safeguard the movement with a shifting cadre of agitators, all possible varieties of technical help, finances etc. N.F kept the most intricate ties with a broad circle of young students and with their organizations. His jovial and lively nature and his active interest in people, in fact, established these broad circles for him, even outside of any technical or tactical work. He was simply drawn to people, as they were to him. No matter how late he returned from his job at the bank, and despite the lack of space in his room, several young people would gather there without fail, call for the samovar and engage in cheerful conversation until well past midnight. I was always a “haunter” of these evening gatherings and usually among the last to leave, yet the honesty and accuracy with which he took on his responsibilities did not permit him to shirk his duties. I could never understand when he slept, or rested. With the immense amount of time demanded by these duties, his conspiratorial work, and simply being with people, he still read copiously, clearly finding time for this only in the “deepest hours” of the night. It seems to me that he only began to prepare for the state examinations in January of 1897, the completion of which was required for his promotion at work, and he wrote them that spring. Because of his abilities, he did not find the examinations in the least difficult, but to prepare for them meant that he often had to sit up all night since he could not agree to taking any time away from his habitual social gatherings. However, in the spring and on the insistence of his friends, an announcement concerning the distribution of his time was hung on the door to his room. Yet, every time that I had to come to him during one of his “protected” hours with some matter that simply could not wait, I would find the samovar in his room, and a cheerful company around his table...
Thirsting to experience all of "life's opportunities ”, Nik. Fed. balanced his somewhat skeptical and ironic turn of mind with an open heart and an obvious inclination for romanticism and poetic reverie which he himself would laugh at. His relations with people were imprinted with the broadest tolerance and the most sincere goodwill. Always busy seeking out the people his work “needed”, he never calculated their “worth” with the rigorous measure that is common in revolutionary circles. Among his friends there were those who could be obviously and hopelessly “worthless”, and these often became closer to him than their revolutionary colleagues. In essence, he valued their “usefulness” much less than their moral and spiritual qualities. In matters of “duty” he did not allow and did not forgive carelessness, thoughtlessness, or even taking risks: in this he was demanding and strict. But in general, he dealt with people and their weaknesses with a wide patience; the whole is not made up only of those who are stiff and proper, and those sorts of people, present in every movement, who believe that they are the “salt of the earth...” Nik. Fed. resembled the common revolutionary type very little, even though he was a revolutionary from head to toe. Revolution was his element; he chose to commit all his strength to it, and never imagined himself without this work, but he was not a saint, not a sectarian, but merely someone with a passionate desire to involve himself in the very thick of life. He did not pressure anyone with the absolute need to become a revolutionary, but from those who did follow this path he relentlessly demanded self-control, tenacity, accuracy, the consideration of every step, but first and foremost – an unyielding and principled moral nobility and chivalry. Nothing upset him more than superficial squabbles or conflicts based on wounded pride; nothing brought forth his indignation as much as someone’s yearning for “general-ship”. He spent a great deal of time and energy eliminating friction and calming conflicts which, however, always came easily to him. He did not look on revolutionaries as members of some special, higher order of human. He believed that they needed to model chivalric nobility, allegiance to their duty, and brotherly comradeship with one another. The smallest “scandal” within the revolutionary community caused him deep suffering and worry... The heavy material burdens of life did not leave even the tiniest mark on his mood, on the crystal clarity of his soul. The typical bohemian, he held in his soul an inexhaustible well of tenderness, a cheerful buoyancy, and a passionate love for nature.
In the spring of 1897, I was also completing some examinations. And so often, when I was in the heat of studying, when it felt as if the time I had left to prepare was not enough, the bell would ring, followed by the characteristic thud of Nik. Fed's heavy boot. He would enter with his usual kind smile, a little ironic, a little wistful, making his not very handsome face beautiful, - I was later to be reminded of this unusual smile by I.P. Kalyaev's grin...
"Let's go somewhere!"
"Where? Nikolai Fyodorovich, I have an examination tomorrow..." - One tries to get out of it, knowing all along that it won't work...
"And I have an examination the day after tomorrow..."
"But you see, I can't..."
"I can't either! But look at the weather! Is it possible to remain behind your book? So, have I convinced you? Do you give in?"
And I had to give in because, in the end, he would have convinced me anyway. We walked, and found ourselves in the depths of Petrovsky Island, we lay on the grass, or spent hours out in a boat while the voice of “reason” did not speak until, finally, in him:
"M.M., maybe this way we really won't have enough time… We had our walk – enough!..."
Reluctantly, we floated home, but as we parted he would always say: "So, will you drop by this evening? We'll have some tea..."
"I don't know if I'll have the time..."
"Oh, but drop it; since the examination is tomorrow, being over-zealous doesn't follow. Everything you study will get mixed up! At least come by later, around midnight..."
And, of course, I knew that I would go.
Nikolai Fyodorovich was certain that only an unhappy accident could cause his arrest and he firmly believed in his revolutionary longevity. But living in the same apartment were friends who could by no means hold the same conviction. And because of his “compromising” relationship with them, Nikolai Fyodorovich pushed a large bureau into the doorway that led into their rooms so that they had to pass through a long, dark corridor when they came by for tea and conversation... Instructions were given to the landlady accordingly:
"Elizaveta Fyodorovna! Remember - I am not acquainted with A.V. And V.V..."
"I know, I know..." the Estonian landlady would smile.
I don't really know whether it was by “accident” or something else, but only that the revolutionary age, along with Nikolai Fyodorovich's life's path, alas, did not turn out to last long.
At the end of June we celebrated the end of our examinations. Nikolai Fyodorovich received a promotion at work which translated into a raise of 15-20 roubles and I left Petersburg for home. Two weeks before my return in August, every tenant in the good Estonian landlady's apartments was arrested, with N. F. Bogdanov among them.
The landlady argued with the gendarmes and the police during their search, swearing that “Nikolai Fyodorovich is a very good gentleman.” Later, when telling me the details of N.F's arrest, she could not help crying...
The first letters that Nikolai Fyodorovich sent from the “holding tank” were full of cheer and assurances that jail was, for him – a long-needed rest and a chance to fill in gaps in his education; he actually devoured an unbelievable number of books. But this “rest” was extended for too long: they held him for 14 or 15 months and then, on orders of an “administrative sentence”, he was sent to eastern Siberia for 5 years.
Even during his final months in prison, Nikolai Fyodorovich had shown dangerous symptoms of disease, and in Kirensk he developed clear signs of consumption. In the spring of 1900, after continuous petitioning, permission to have him moved south (to the Minusinsky region) was obtained, and he had already begun the journey but by the time he arrived in Olekminsk his condition had become so serious that he could not travel any further. He died here on May 8, 1900. (17)
At the beginning of 1897, on the insistence of Nikolai Fyodorovich that all student organizations should be “in our hands”, I agreed to run for the chairmanship of the “Kassa”, but I could not tolerate being in that position for more than three months. At the time, there was a strong feeling among the directors that the “Kassa” needed to be transformed into a professional student organization. “Politics” clearly did not evoke their sympathies and was treated as an unwanted involvement by students in party work that was foreign to them. Due to this attitude on the part of a significant number of “Directors” and representatives of the most active youth who had just begun their political education and who, for me, saw the problem of student organizations completely differently, they established a seriously flawed position. Taking this opposition to politics within the mindset of student professionalism into account, I gave up my chairmanship shortly after the Vetrovsky demonstrations... After that, I barely played any role in the “Kassa”. Until the events of 1899, I did not even attend the meetings of the Board of Directors, even though the rules of the “Kassa” stated that anyone who had been made a director held that right for the duration of his student years, and could continue to participate even if he had left the circle of directors.
Having become a director of the “Union of Struggle” and the “Red Cross”, again due to N.F. Bogdanov's insistence, I became a fee collector for the 'Cross' at the university. After Nikolai Fyodorovich's arrest, I had to take on his duties myself and consolidate the canvassers from all institutes of higher learning. The business of aiding political prisoners and exiles through the progress of our revolutionary struggle, and especially using it to unite with the working class, which needed serious help for their families, clearly did not rank as the greatest urgency that life could produce. Meanwhile, in the interests of the revolution and the achievement of its goal, it was demanded that this be done. So I decided to commit all of my efforts to regulating and raising the profile of aid for political prisoners. There were many obstacles along this path since the number of prisoners in Petersburg jails at this time rarely numbered less than 150 – 200 individuals, while the monthly revenues of the 'Cross' were relatively insignificant. In an effort to raise larger amounts, a permanent collective of fund raisers was formed from all colleges and universities. To reach this goal, I also felt that it was absolutely necessary for the 'Cross' to regularly report on its accounts. The core of the 'Cross' at this time was made up of people who were essentially uninvolved in active revolutionary work; some were technicians and some would occasionally (but not often) obtain an amount of illegal literature and sell it to raise funds. But the successful selling of this literature began with the organization of the permanent collective. I became the head of this collective and made efforts to create a completely new structure for all of our initiatives. The bronze seal of the organization was handed over to me, and the anxiety about issuing our funds became my responsibility. With the 'Union of Struggle's' help, I found that it worked out well to do our accounts monthly (except during the summer), submitting not only information about the expenditures and the amounts coming in but, apart from that – lists of those in prison. All of the sums collected by the other schools were received by me without delay and, with the collaboration of two young women who constantly visited the prisons, they were systematically distributed. Through this work, these young women tirelessly sought out connections with the families of those who were in prison. They worked strenuously and selflessly, under constant threat of arrest. The organization of the fund raisers' collective, that met with me at least once each month, the regular calculation of its accounts, the devotion of the two young women to our work on behalf of prisoners all enlivened the 'Cross's' work and raised contributions significantly. From the directors – during my two years of modest work there were only one or two meetings of this body – I received information monthly about credits and debits (very minimal) to include in our accounting; they were, from time to time, small amounts. Honestly, all of the work was done without the directors. Of course, we could never offer the level of help that was needed to offset the sacrifices by those in the revolutionary struggle or meet their cost of living since the main budget of the 'Cross' would cause squabbles among the young members, and our own budget was always quite modest. General contributions to the 'Cross' always remained minimal... On average, the 'Cross' monthly budget succeeded in bringing in 2 – 2 1/2 thousand roubles which, in comparison with the recent past, was a notable victory. But in the face of 100 – 120 – 150 prison inmates (of whom a large majority needed help), and with the necessity of helping their families (especially those of workers) the aid sent out by the “Cross' remained shamefully inadequate... All of this caused me unending anxiety and nervous worry for more than two years although I could always subjectively tell my conscience – feci, quod potui – however this did not allow my morale to find any calm. The unmet need was always the one that cried loudest and this, in my view, caused serious damage to the work of the revolution... Coincidentally, my work for the 'Cross' almost ended for me with the most serious consequences. At the time of the March rout of the social-democrats in 1898, I was the subject of a police search, but it all ended well thanks to the self-possession and resourcefulness of my mother.
As it turned out, I was able to keep some compromising material about the 'Cross', despite the thoroughness of the search; they took only three or four social-democratic brochures from my book cupboard, and I was not arrested. That night, a huge number of searches took place, and since no woman from the Okhranka was sent to our apartment, they invited the wife of the senior building superintendent to witness the search at my mother's. My mother's relations with this superintendent were good and she managed, regardless of the fact that a policeman was standing guard in the half-open doorway, to arrange the promise of 300 roubles in “gratitude” and... it all passed. Meanwhile, a pillow case that I habitually kept at my mother's was, on this night, stuffed particularly tightly. In it, there was hidden: a large amount of material for the “Union of Struggle” archive, the bronze seal of the 'Red Cross' and the red ink stamp, the accounts of the 'Red Cross' and a good quantity of various illegal “literature”. When you're lucky, you're lucky... As morning drew nearer, I began to worry, since I was expecting visitors ”on business” around 11:00, and these visitors could well have compromising material with them. I asked my younger, but today already deceased, brother Peter, who was still a student at that time in the 7th class of the Larynsky Gymnasium, to warn anyone he met on the road to school... But I was sure that the policeman carrying out the search would not let him leave for the Gymnasium but he had not slept all night... And the policeman.... let him go, for which, half an hour later and in our presence, he received a heavy scolding from a recently arrived inspector, a Lieutenant-Colonel of the gendarmes... Why I was searched during a police action against socialist-revolutionaries with whom I had absolutely no dealings, and why I connected the search to my work with the 'Cross' is easily explained...
Not long before this, S.K., a socialist-revolutionary female student, was arrested. About a month and a half before this, she had been to my apartment for a meeting of the “Cross” collective, having been asked by N.I. Boky, a regular member, to attend just this once in her place. During her first interrogation, in order to extricate herself from some other charges brought against her, she asserted that some documents had been passed on to her by N.I. Boky at my apartment... During the same night that I was being searched, N.I. Boky was arrested. I don't know if there were any other searches or arrests made in connection with S.K.'s confession (it seems not.) N.I Boky got away with a relatively short time in prison without any serious consequences; I only managed to escape the most serious consequences by chance.
I was arrested exactly one year later, on March 20, 1899, but by then the grounds for my arrest were completely different.
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Perhaps two months before the search, during the winter of 1898, I had set off on “business” with my pockets crammed full of all sorts of “illegalities” when I suddenly became so dizzy that I almost fainted in the street... With difficulty, I made my way home and collapsed from a kind of heart attack. P.V. Mokyevsky, who treated me, found “nothing serious” but strongly recommended that I spend the summer in Naugheim. The trip had already been planned at the time of the search, but due to the gendarmes' inquest, I was banned from traveling. Obtaining a passport for foreign travel under these circumstances was not that easy, but there were no obstacles that could not be overcome by my mother's persistence and energies. After more than a month's efforts and daily visits to various establishments we finally received the passport and by the beginning of June, my sister, my mother, and I were in Berlin...
We arrived in Berlin just as the general elections to the Reichstag were being completed: three days after we got there the second ballot (Stichwahlen) was to start. Every evening we would attend election meetings organized by the Social-Democratic Party. Of the more or less well known orators who spoke, I was lucky enough to hear the elderly “Schtadtgagen” Zinger... I remember that what struck me was that his tone was more good-natured than revolutionary. He painted pictures of the future benefits of socialism, once it had been put into practice, with the most optimistic and rosy colours. Suddenly, someone interrupted his speech with the skeptical observation - “Never!”(niemals!) Zinger stopped and, turning toward the heckler with a kind smile, asked in astonishment: “Who says 'never'? Why 'never?” No, this will be, and it will come soon!” - And with a fairly dull speech about the inevitability of socialism's coming victory the world over, he caused a storm of applause in the auditorium, an elevation of joyful feelings that I, an accidental listener, took part in. It seemed to me that the mood of the audience was extraordinarily good-natured and peaceful not only on this night but every night that I spent at these meetings. My neighbours (worker-electors in the Social-Democratic Party) with whom I had the chance to speak, usually expressed their deep conviction in the nearness of socialism's fulfillment, about which they said: “up until now, we worked for the bourgeoisie, and now the bourgeoisie will serve the people, - they have a vast experience and much knowledge, and we will make use of these, the bourgeoisie will serve us!”.. The elections resulted in a significant strengthening of the Social-Democratic Party in the Reichstag, and this was one reason for the celebratory mood... One day, a police official, sitting on the stage, stopped the speaker and served the organizer of the meeting with a caution. “You know that this doesn't mean anything,” - my neighbour began whispering in my ear - “it is very, very likely that the policeman himself is a Social-Democrat”... On another occasion, a thunder storm with hail broke out during a meeting. Hail broke through the glass ceiling and water poured into the enormous hall where the meeting was taking place. For a long time, the speaker tried to muffle the lightning strikes and the noise of the rain with his speech, but the floor was becoming covered in water, members of the public were rising from their places to stand on their chairs… But the lightning and the downpour still raged on. The organizer was forced to declare the meeting over... The minute he had done so, someone jumped up on the stage, climbed onto the table and shouted: “Friends! It is God himself who proclaims – hoch, Socialdemocratie! Let us also shout – hoch, Socialdemocratie!” This was met with such a storm of enthusiasm that for a moment it was as if nature's own storm was drowned out...
In Berlin, everything seemed to me to be saturated with socialism which already stood at the threshold and, if not today, then tomorrow would step across that threshold... Thus, the answer I received when i asked the host of our pension in Naugheim (a Frankfurt pharmacist) whom he had voted for was such an unexpected reprimand as he haughtily responded: “ich treibe keine Politik!” - an answer filled with the most exquisite scorn for anyone who was interested in politics and with as much perfect smugness, standing as he did so far above such “trifles” that they did not interest him...
After spending five weeks regaining my health in Naugheim, I had the opportunity during that first visit outside of my country to also complete a circular trip around Switzerland... In Geneva, the most notable sight (for my interests at that time) was a press which printed Russian social-democratic literature... I did not find Plekhanov in Geneva; he was spending the summer with his two daughters on Lake Thun. But how could I leave Switzerland without becoming acquainted with G.V. Plekhanov? So I spent 4 days in the village of Zigrisville, in the same pension as Plekhanov, his daughters, and V.I. Zasulich. G.V made a strong and unforgettable impression on me; he was a shining and much-gifted man with a bright and original individuality, sharply distinguished from those “of whom there are too many.” I would later meet, and become intimate with, a large number of famous people, but rarely would any of them strike me with such wealth of ability and such an original cast of mind as Plekhanov. Incidentally, he was a brilliant conversationalist and an irresistible polemicist, although, at the high table (Russians prevailed at this pension, and of them most were from Petersburg) when Plekhanov began to speak, always deeply and engagingly, garnishing his speech with quotations from Shchedrin, Gleb Ouspensky, (I am sure he knew them by heart!), adding bright sparkles of glittering wit and sometimes warming to heartfelt and open lyricism, - his speech would become a monologue, and everyone would become quiet and listen, holding their breath... - It occurred to me more than once - Surely, they listened to Rudin like this...
Every day after breakfast, Plekhanov would spend two hours studying Russian literature with his two teenaged daughters (who both spoke Russian very well, but with noticeable accents). After this, we would take short walks together. He would ask me about Russia with such avid interest, wanting to know the smallest details about the most ordinary everyday-day occurrences that I deeply felt there was much homesickness gnawing at the soul of this great man, despite his never admitting this outright...
Conversations with Plekhanov were an unusually strong stimulus for thought. From our four-day long conversation, I came away with a whole series of new interests, for which he had given me the thread of Ariadne with which to navigate their winding labyrinths...
VI.
Before February 8, 1899 - The Demonstrations of February 8th - The Next Day - “The Organizational Committee” and the “Mutual Benefit Kassa” - Meetings at the University - The Spread of Agitation to Other Educational Institutes and the Province - The “Manifesto of the Mutual Benefit Kassa” - The March Meetings - M. Pl. Kalyayev - Arrest - Interrogation - The Abolition of the Student Movement 1899 - The Significance of the 90's and the Kassa Manifesto
The broad history of the student movement of 1899 and the reasons why it arose are more or less well known (18), so I will touch on them only in so far as my “testimony” might offer new material for a more complete elucidation of those events and their general character.
As is evident from everything that came before, the stages of political awareness and the mood of the student body in general all made the emergence of a conscientious political movement in its midst completely impossible, and did not allow a revival of the old position that the students can and should be the vanguard of the intelligentsia in its oppositional and even in its revolutionary battle. There existed in the heart of the student masses not only a disinclination toward “politics” but also the conviction that following the political path pushed them out of the parties' calculations and awareness as they became foreign and even hostile to student concerns. The students took part in the Vetrovsky demonstrations not because of the opportunity they saw to demonstrate, but because this was the funeral of a friend... The student leaders deliberately chose not to demonstrate after the tragic death of Kostromin, understanding that the broad mass of students would not take part, given the event's clearly political character... And yet, just one year later, in the midst of this student body, disengaged and hostile to politics, an explosion of revolutionary energy took place, striking in its unexpectedness, sparking a movement that, through its spontaneity and its broad base of support, caused both the Marxist Engels and the Okhranka agent Statkovsky to speak of it as “the prelude to the Russian revolution.” The defining characteristic of this movement - not a retrospective one as the authors, mentioned above, have argued, but a prophetic one since it was created as events were in full swing - pertains to the “Manifesto of the Mutual Aid Kassa” which ascertained the birth of “a spontaneous force which will relegate Russian absolutism to the tomb of history.”
But here I am rushing ahead...
These re-awakened feelings on the part of the student body, this turbulence seeking an outlet in protest for the sake of protest without any conscious political goals, was evident at the University of Petersburg even before February 8. I think it was on February 4 that an announcement from the rector appeared on the university notice board, and was also printed in “Novoye Vremya”, clearly not undertaken by his own initiative, with a warning against disturbing the general peace and quiet during the Founder’s Day ceremonies on February 8. This was accompanied by an enumeration of the penalties that threatened anyone disturbing the peace. The tactless tone of the announcement and the very fact of its publication caused annoyance among a large portion of the students. Over the next few days, groups of students would gather in the hall where the announcement was posted, expressing their dissatisfaction loudly and sharply. Organized student groups responded passively to what was happening. On February 6, a group gathered in this hall seemingly on the initiative of “patriots.” They raised a question for discussion regarding how they should react to the death of the French president, Felix Faure. Someone suggested that a telegram be sent to Paris from the student body expressing their sympathy. After two or three heavy retorts to this suggestion, it failed brilliantly. But the gathering did not disperse.
A question about the rector's warning was raised. And with the first indignant words, there came the sound of breaking glass; someone's hand reached up to the posted warning - and it disappeared... I remember that no decisions were made but that everything proceeded from extraordinarily heightened emotions. Two days later, at the solemn university ceremony held on February 8, these emotions erupted in enraged whistles, the stomping of feet, cries of “Get out!” and “Down with!” when the Rector Sergeevich appeared on the rostrum. For 15 – 20 minutes he vainly tried to calm the protesters, helplessly gesticulating and opening his mouth, - not one of his words could be heard. In the end, he came down from the rostrum and beat a hasty retreat... The occasion was ruined. In their heightened mood, singing songs, the students began to disperse, mostly in the direction of Nevsky Prospect...
Without any advanced planning or “permission” from any organization (19), the demonstration took to the streets. As groups of students left the university, “To Nevsky! To Nevsky” resounded. They sang “Gaudeamus”, sometimes “The Marseilles”... There was no intention to stage a “political demonstration”. The students were carried only by an expansive mood that sought expression in ways that were already established as traditional. But given what had just occurred during the ceremony, what was “typical” had become tinted with much brighter colours, taking on a not so traditional character. The city authorities and the Okhranka had, of course, already received messages by telephone about the ruined ceremony. But the “vigilant authorities” had “prepared” themselves in advance for this day of February 8: The Dvorets bridge was closed, and passageways across the Neva were blocked. The students who could not cross the Dvorets bridge had to make their way to the Nikolayevsky bridge but their route was cut off beside Rumyansky Square by a division of city cavalry under the command, as I recall, of Lieutenant Galle... The size of this crowd of students was considerable (only those who lived on the Petersburg side headed in that direction over the Birzhevy bridge) but the police measures, taking and closing pathways on the left bank of the Neva, artificially hindered the crowd from dispersing. The crowd could not obey the demand to “break up” for their way was blocked in every direction, and while those who lived on Vasilevsky Island could actually leave, they, of course, were in no hurry to do so, being more interested in what was happening. Things ended with the cavalry attacking the crowd of students on Rumyansky Square, during which they began to use their whips. Grounds for the attack were upheld, it seems, when the students, not submitting to the order to “disperse”, “began to taunt and laugh at the policemen” and a few even started to throw snowballs at them, causing Lieutenant Vladmirov to be injured by a piece of ice... Now, it is no longer important (and, to be precise, hardly possible) to establish how insulted the police were by the students' “insults”, or whether “snowballs” were seen as “sufficient cause” for an attack by the cavalry armed with whips. It is more important to examine what happened after this, what events this attack called forth, and establish how they developed...
Sadly, Statkovsky states; “They lashed students with whips before this... and the students were silent” (20) … Statkovsky blames the tumultuous uprising that occurred “after receiving the whip” this time on “incitement by the liberal press”. He claims that the ““revolutionary character” that the movement quickly adopted” was due to the influence of “a radical group of students, members of the illegal society calling itself the “Mutual Aid Kassa” which appears to have led the movement from its earliest steps.” The “incitement by the liberal press” is obvious nonsense (this was under the censorship of that time!), but I will try to clarify the role played by the 'Kassa' and the general course of the movement in the following paragraphs...
The usual “tea-drinking” took place on the evening of February 8; that is, evening gatherings were organized in large halls in some public houses to which professors, literati, and social figures were invited to give speeches. Before, only one meeting would be organized but, with the growth of Marxism from about 1896-1897, there were two, one for the 'Kassa', another for the Marxists. Setting up two separate meetings was explained not only by the desire of the Marxists to give the discussion at their gathering a certain conceptual character, but to donate the proceeds from the evening to the “Union of Struggle”. The 'Kassa' gathering, as a counterweight to the Marxists, would take on a “populist” character, with the bulk of the proceeds being allotted for use by the “Red Cross”... By 1896, the majority of 'Kassa' members had already joined the Marxists, but those remaining who worked to organize this gathering considered it fair to give the 'populists' the chance to bring the conceptual character that they desired to the 'Kassa' event.
Since I had been busy organizing the Marxist evening, I was not present during the events of the day, but learned of them later in the student cafeteria. There wasn't any noticeable agitation in the cafeteria, although they were already talking about a meeting that was supposed to take place at the university the next day; one, it seems, that was called for by someone through a hurried appeal.
Within 'Kassa' circles, what had happened did not take on any significant meaning and no one allowed for the possibility of what happened next: they thought that it would all blow over in two or three dull “protest” meetings with discussions about the university administration - things that came up at every meeting... Someone was arguing for the necessity of raising the topic of the day's events during that evening's planned gatherings. This forced the organizers of the Marxists’ evening to gather for a quick consultation during which it was decided not to allow anything to spoil our programme of planned discussion, regardless of what conversations there might be on the theme of the day's events.
The decision to adopt these measures allowed the planned discussions to take place without hindrance and the events of the day were mentioned only in passing by someone during their speech. At the 'Kassa' gathering, they were mentioned more often, but did not interfere with the usual quality of the speeches...
I returned from the evening's programme at 6:00 in the morning and gave little thought to what might happen at the upcoming meeting; I did not go to the university on the 9th.
Then, arriving in the student cafeteria during the later dinner hour, I was immediately aware of a “new“ atmosphere, the atmosphere of a blowing squall that I did not expect.
In the cafeteria, filled by more students than usual, everything was seething. Those who had been at the meeting were rapturously telling of the unusually high, uplifted spirits of the student body which had experienced a spontaneous explosion in their desire to protest, and which now only required some organization and direction... A cell had already been formed to undertake this work, calling itself the “organizing committee”. Its members, most of whom were 'Kassa' delegates, found their participation in the latter and its approval very valuable for the movement. In order to clarify the 'Kassa's' position, a meeting of the “representative committee” was held that evening. Privately, individual members of the “organizing committee” and their supporters appealed to the Marxists, who at the time made up the majority of the “representative committee”, with what was almost a supplication not to “extinguish the spirit”, not to put out the burst of sparks of spontaneous protest. The Marxists, many of whom were already working closely and collaboratively with the workers' movement, regarded the student movement and its potential with a certain skepticism, but had no plans to extinguish or put out anything. This skepticism extended from the general, and already established tradition of how the Marxists viewed student movements, as well as from the evaluation of the concrete facts characteristic of a spontaneous protest's first steps and, equally, the very composition of the organizing committee. These “first steps” did not promise any political intelligence on the part of the movement. Some student delivered a harangue at the first meeting about the necessity of protest for “the insulted honour of the regiment.” (21) The academists – G.S. Nosar among them - brought up the question of revising the University Charter and spoke for creating an appropriate petition. Nosar (who would later gain huge notoriety under the pseudonym Khrustalev as a director of the Soviet of Workers' Deputies in 1905) truly was an academist “due to his tactical understanding and because of that he joined the “organizational committee””. The ranks of the “organizational committee” were filled with kind, talented, and spirited young people who had some experience of student affairs and a good knowledge of the students' frame of mind, but had not yet gone very far in defining themselves politically. A significant number of students on the “committee” were still in their “political youth” and would receive their political education through future events. In the moment of its formation, the “organizational committee” had no plan of action, no definite sense of its goals or methods, and was guided by a vague desire to help the spontaneous protest of the students come to its full expression without connecting the movement to any political slogans. It may be that therein lay its success. In fairness, it must be admitted that the “organizational committee” did not lead the movement ideologically, but adapted to it, nonetheless becoming a single "hat” that rose above the many-headed student body. In essence, the whole difference between the 'Kassa Marxists' and the 'organizational committee' and its supporters is contained in the stage of their political development: that school of political education which the Marxists had already passed through, the 'committee' also passed through, and did so successfully during the events of 1899.(22) In addition to this, they gained merit, without doubt, because the spontaneous student protest took on the character of a lofty revolutionary battle which did much to extend its influence. At times, through pressure on the “organizational committee” by the 'Kassa', and the rising political temperature of the movement, it was swayed to use more or less correct political slogans. It was on these grounds that an ongoing battle was fought between the 'Kassa' or, to be more precise – its Marxist majority, and the “organizational committee”, at times taking on the qualities of a sharp conflict... Of course, the “organizational committee's” resistance to the tendencies of the 'Kassa' were understood not as a disinclination toward politics, but only as a fear of becoming a "hat" that no longer fit everyone.
At the sitting of the “representative committee” which took place on the evening of February 9, the ‘Kassa' gave its approval to the “organizational committee” unanimously (23): it was decided that the words “Mutual Benefit 'Kassa'” would be added to all of its proclamations and leaflets. The leaders of the “organizational committee”, not expecting such an easy victory, were completely satisfied with the adoption of this decree and asked members of the 'Kassa' to take on a considerable role during their meetings in order that their presence might help give the movement a more structured and organized appearance. This was a moment of complete agreement between the 'Kassa' and the “committee”...
The first (and the last) time that I attended a meeting was on February 10 or 11, I don't remember exactly... By this time, the movement had already taken on the qualities of a protest for “human freedom, the most fundamental rights of which had been desecrated”, and a new method of protest had been worked out – a strike at the university, or an 'obstruction' as it was then called. It seems to me that this term gained its popularity and was conclusively strengthened after the speech by the Rector Sergeevich, given on that very day at the meeting. This speech, delivered by Sergeevich with his usual oratorical mastery and sarcastic tone, enlivened with dramatic gestures and the expressive mimicry of his agile face, poured oil onto the fire. Sergeevich spoke for a long time, having much to say about the causes of the movement, its aims and its means... “Students,” he said (I am quoting, of course, from memory and don't pretend to convey his words accurately), - “students are humiliated and insulted by the conduct of the mounted police, they are demanding an investigation and punishment for those who are guilty. But I would not be surprised if, instead of punishment, the commanding lieutenant received a promotion... Students are demanding a guarantee of the inviolability of the individual, upheld by law. But lawfulness is a kind of bird that cannot survive in our climate... Students are threatening to close the university until their demands are met, and are shutting down their lectures through “obstruction.” (What followed was a thorough excursion into the province of philology and history in order to find out what an 'obstruction' was.) “Recently, a famous jurist, popular among you, A.F. Kony, questioned me at great length about the events taking place at the university. And when I had told him everything, he said to me: “I understand that the students are insulted by the actions of the police, but I don't understand why they want to close the university; I would understand them better if they attempted to close down the police.” But is it possible that students could achieve shutting down the police?”… In the end, the rector's entire speech came down to ridiculing the student position, defined by its 'demands', formulated by an “organizational committee” as if through deliberation with “authoritative jurists.” The scoffing tone of Sergeevich's speech grated on my nerves ( and brought about a storm of indignation from the entire gathering), but I realized that the doorway for this mockery had been opened wide by the “organizational committee” itself. The “organizational committee” had put forward its demands: guaranteed inviolability of the individual, the passing of precise laws regarding the authority of the police during clashes with crowds, the administration taking legal responsibility for violations of these laws, and a legal inquiry into the assault of February 8. One of the more prominent members of the “organizational committee”, Yordansky, admitted afterward that “the “organizational committee’s” adoption of an incomplete and unsuccessful formulation of its demands at a crucial stage is explained by the political naiveté of its members.” (24), that “liberal ideology” still had a grip on the student movement at that time, and that the “organizational committee” was convinced of the need to “fight for laws and not against them”. It was preoccupied with the fact that, “on the one hand, its existence could not be authorized under the current laws regarding secret revolutionary organizations, but, on the other hand – the very aims of the movement, that is the firm resolve to overthrow the existing order in the more or less distant future, could not give rise to the usual charges according to the 250 page old criminal code". I have already noted, above, that the entire difference between the “organizational committee” and the Marxists came down to the difference in their “political maturity”: the Marxists had parted ways with “political naiveté” long ago....
I was compelled to take the rostrum and attack the “liberal ideology” of the “organizational committee” not because of any political considerations but due to nerves and the tone of Sergeevich's speech. With great fervour and in a fashion that may have been insulting to the “organizational committee”, I argued that the students fully deserved Sergeevich's mockery, and that one had to be in their political infancy not to see that the demands they put forth were not attainable without the overthrow of the current system... A response to the violation of individual freedom by police brutality that produces such demands (addressed to whom? - To him who appears as the source of all tyranny?) testifies to feelings of indignation and not to political intelligence. If a protest should arise from this, then better to disband and bring an end to the obstruction since this kind of protest cannot be serious. To fight for laws in a lawless regime - is absurd. The struggle could have only one goal, the overthrow of the lawless regime, and for this overthrow there exists only one path – the path of revolution... My speech, it seems, brought about even stormier indignation than the mocking one by Sergeevich. My laurels were deafening whistles and loud protests. One after the other, members of the “organizational committee” appeared on the rostrum, having not yet lost their “political naiveté”, in order to bring the impact of my speech to a halt, and to offer the indignant 'everyman' the more suitable 'hat' of liberal ideology. The “organizational committee” was quite perturbed by my performance and held discussions with the Marxists, trying to convince them to refrain from making any similar statements. They came to me personally with this request. But my single debut was enough, I had no plans to repeat the performance... The decision to imprint the “organizational committee's” proclamation with the stamp of the ‘Kassa' continued to be seen as valid, and the Marxist majority within the 'Kassa' had to laugh, reading the approved pamphlets from this perspective: “We are closing the university for as long as there are no firm guarantees of personal immunity and until violators of this immunity are brought to justice. Our demands are so modest that we cannot yield even by a single word.” (Pamphlet from February 16). Individual Marxists, by the way, gave speeches at the meetings but later stopped going since they were opposed to the “organizational committee's” line of conduct. I did not have the opportunity to attend any more of these meetings. I would, occasionally, approach the university during those times when it was already cordoned off by detachments of police, and those who were late were left to “mill about” outside. One day, Governor Kleygels came to the university, entering from the embankment through the professors' entrance. He did not stay inside for long, and when he returned he engaged in conversation with the throng of students who were blocked from the university on all sides. The students tried to convince him to bring those who had used their whips to trial.
“What are you talking about, gentlemen? The mounted police in the city do not have whips”, Kleygels insolently answered.
"Lift up the flap of your coat!” someone in the crowd shot back, " And show us, General. Don't you have a whip?"
“For shame, for shame, gentlemen!” the blushing general prattled, and then got into his sleigh and drove away to the sounds of laughter and whistles...
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The movement enveloped all of the institutions of higher learning in Petersburg and spread into the provinces (where the “organizational committee" had sent delegates.) This was followed by the expulsion of many students who were sent home by administrative orders.
On February 20, an imperial order was sent to Vannovsky regarding an “investigation into the reasons for and circumstances surrounding” the student protests.
The “organizational committee” decided that the mere fact of calling the investigation was not enough to put a stop to the strike and called for it to continue until “our demands had been satisfied.” But this “hat” now appeared not to fit “everyman.” A mood of reconciliation was raising its head more and more, strengthened especially by the influence of the auspicious news of the Vannovsky Commission and its far-ranging promises. Independent members of the “organizational committee” entered into relations with Vannovsky and members of the Commission, finding them to be in harmony with their own liberal ideology. (25) In truth, despite any favourable impressions, the Commission’s dose of liberalism was not large enough to uphold the students’ belief in any kind of practical results. But one practical outcome, particularly persuasive to the growing mood of reconciliation, did result: despite the opposition of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Vannovksy was able to secure the return of those students who had been sent away from Petersburg. (It is interesting that the order permitting the students to return was not made public, and those who returned did so after receiving this information through the “organizational committee”!) One after the other, educational institutions put an end to their strikes, and with a single voice gave their support to “renewing the peaceful course of study at the university.” This occurred even before the return of the suspended students to Petersburg...
The strike was over and with this came the most serious moment for the movement. The “Kassa” stepped onto centre stage, wishing to sum things up and, through a retrospective view of events, put an end to the juggling of formulas - “our movement is not political, but social”, “our movement is not revolutionary, but oppositional”, - irritating those who suffered from not a small dose of “political naiveté”. It fell to me to Initiate this action by the “Kassa”. The basis of the incentive which I led lay in the desire to clearly settle the Marxist “position regarding the political struggle of other classes.” Besides this, suffering through these recent events made me certain that the moment had come for the non-proletarian elements to openly join the constitutional movement, and that the students could play the role of an avant-garde on this path (which had been doctrinally rejected before this.) Open constitutional action by the non-proletarian elements should, in my view, lend its influence even to the workers' movement, as the stages of economism were already sufficiently prepared for the transition onto the path of political struggle. (Amongst the workers in Petersburg there was a lively interest in the fortunes of the student movement.) And under the combined blows of all the politically progressive elements, there had to come, in the near future, the realization of our longstanding dream – the fall of autocracy.
On March 1 or 2, I made a proposal to the “representative committee” that we release a suitable proclamation from the 'Kassa' which would be prepared in advance; a project for which I asked that an editorial commission be appointed.
All of the comrade-marxists whom I approached in advance to arrange things fully supported me. (Some were only asked to commit to attending the meeting). Those who were opposed included the populists as well as, and especially, the leaders of the “organizational committee” since they found the whole Marxist conception of the document unacceptable. They believed that the movement was not yet over; that, on the one hand, it had not yet broken completely with “liberal ideology” while, on the other hand, they feared that such a document issued by the “Kassa” would tear away the basis upon which they could build a secure foundation for mass influence. We became entangled in a long and stubborn struggle which ended in the defeat of the Marxists. The first result of the emergent debate was a new tone in the “final” proclamation of the “organizational committee”(26) which was calculated to make any proclamation from the ‘Kassa' appear redundant, even in the eyes of the “Kassa” majority. But the “Manifesto of the Organizational Committee” (March 4) still did not satisfy the 'Kassa' majority which continued to insist on the necessity of publishing a “Kassa Manifesto.” And, in the end, after days of debate, an editorial commission was chosen (which was made up of, besides myself, M. I. Utkin, A.I. Svidersky, Postalovsky, and one or two others.) The editorial commission reworked my project and it was approved by a significant majority of the “representative committee”. Subsequently, and with the help of the group “Workers’ Thoughts”, the “Kassa Manifesto” was published in a much more polished way than the “organizational committee's” publication. A printed copy was in the hands of the “organizational committee” which did not extend its opposition to the “Manifesto” as far as insubordination to the majority of the “representative committee” and it was issued in print around March 16-18. I no longer have a complete copy of this document which invited “all truly oppositional elements and classes of Russian society to organize themselves for the coming struggle which would only end when its main goal – the overthrow of autocracy – was achieved.” (27)
The “Manifesto” was adopted by the 'Kassa' during an interlude in the movement, and appeared right when the 'obstruction' was resumed with new strength...
It is difficult to say what the reason was for the movement's renewal. At this time, the decision to end the strikes, having been decided by a majority vote at the meeting of March 1, did not produce a dependably reestablished order since the influential “organizational committee” supported a continuation of the protest. Beyond this, there proved to be more than enough reasons and grounds for a new escalation...
Those who had been expelled and exiled from the provincial universities were not permitted to return, and not all returned to Petersburg, seeing as the secret police implicated a number of them in political inquests. Those who did return were, on the insistence of Bogolepov and the university administration, subject to the absurd but rarely enforced punishment of three days' incarceration. The atmosphere became heavy. The exiled student Nosar returned to the university in a civilian coat which he hung up on his coat hanger (every student had his own coat hanger then, identified with his name; this is how they would keep a record of student attendance). Civilian clothing was forbidden, and his coat was taken to the inspector. It turned out that there was a proclamation in the pocket of his coat. When Nosar went to the inspector to retrieve his coat, the inspector pointed out his lack of caution. Nosar then announced at a meeting that his overcoat had been subject to a search. With this last, small drop, the cup became full and overflowed: the meeting voted (March 16) to renew their obstruction. At least, its popular chairman and member of the first “organizational committee” emphasized in careful but precise terms that now the movement was taking on the character of a political protest against the existing regime and thus, finding resolve in this, we must be prepared for severe repression. Our “everyman” now began to shelter under a new hat - “our movement is political, but not revolutionary”... Now we could speak of political “protest” but, as was shown in the reaction to the “Kassa Manifesto”, we could still not speak of revolutionary struggle, of overthrowing autocracy (28)...
The publication of the “Manifesto” caused such distress that, in the cafeteria, it was torn up and ground under foot. The “organizational committee”, in order to redeem its position, issued official notice of its complete lack of involvement in the document's creation. Alas, this notice was deemed “insufficient” even by General Vannovsky who found it “too soft”: - “it should have said, outright, that the proclamation was the work of various scoundrels, revolutionaries.” Those who unwittingly heard this outburst of the general's anger found that “it really was naive” (29) but, of course, they could not express this to the general and had to remain silent... However, perpetrators of the “Manifesto” were prosecuted no more softly than Vannovsky had advised, both within the student population and among the friends and supporters of the “organizational committee.” Of these, I only remember one who, shocked and indignant over the atmosphere created by the “Manifesto”, remained true to his characteristic straightforwardness and did not hold back. This was – I.P. Kalyaev.
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I became acquainted with Kalyaev during the time when arguments for and against the “Manifesto” brought him to the “representative committee” of the 'Kassa' as a new delegate who spoke from the “organizational committee's” point of view. However, his highly developed revolutionary instincts did not permit him to fulfill the hopes that were placed in him. I don't recall how he voted (there were those who, entering the ‘Kassa' in order to protest against the “Manifesto”, voted for it) but he declined to take part in the throes of dialectic debate which, at times, approached an unbelievable sharpness. He protested against this level of political passion, the quality of which was not to be tolerated amongst colleagues who opposed the “Manifesto”… He told me more than once that he supported the moral and revolutionary right of the “Manifesto’s” supporters... Subsequently, I became close to Kalyaev while in "Kresty" prison where we met daily during our walks. A friendly hand has tried to capture his character more than once. (30) Nevertheless, I too want to say a few words about him since my encounter with him along life's path, however fleeting, was one of my most memorable and the memory of it one of my brightest and dearest... In all things, he was absolutely unique, resembling no one else in either his strengths or his more trivial qualities. His gentleness of spirit and fine delicacy were combined with a strong will and unbending principals.
His straightforwardness and candour left no room not only for politicizing but also for any habitual reticence: he would express everything that he felt or thought without hesitation and because of this many would avoid him. With a kind of childlike simplicity of spirit, he would say things about himself and make such admissions that would rarely be spoken even in an intimate conversation between friends. It was as if there lived in his soul an ineradicable need for all of his thoughts, feelings, and even his most private struggles to be in plain view, to give an answer to everyone, for everything. With his crystal clarity and high spiritual sensibilities, he often appeared, in a large and varied crowd, as if he were casting pearls before whom, according to the evangelist's advice, it was recommended not to cast them.
The friendly conversations we had are, for me, unforgettable. We had a number of literary tastes in common - Meyerlink, for example. For hours on end, he would read me entire pages from Mitskevich, whose work it seems he knew by heart. To this day, if I close my eyes and focus, it seems that I can hear his voice declaiming the song of the Polish prisoner from "Dziadov"... (31) He was drawn into the revolution not because of any conviction or particular programme but from an exultant and mystical rapture and deep, heartfelt pain for the desecration of the people. Revolution was, for him, the element in which his soul struggled to burn with a bright light, yearning to burn out. He often told me that he could see his future as death on a scaffold. And it seems to me that he died in this state of self-hypnosis, as the rapturous and enlightened always do. Terrorism was, for him, the highest point of revolutionary ecstasy. But terrorist assassination only became a possibility for him "because it was self-sacrifice." And I don't know if he would have found a terrorist act possible if it did not carry the death sentence with it. I am certain that, if they had not executed him, he would have found this to be torture. We parted company on the 7th of May, when I was transferred from 'Kresty' to the "remand centre"... After this, I ended up in Chernigov and he in Ekaterinoslav. We exchanged a few letters. I sent a letter of recommendation for him to E.V. Sviatlovsky, then the editor of 'Pridneprovsky Krai'... After that, he disappeared from Ekaterinoslav. In 1902, already under police surveillance, I was given permission to leave the country for 3 months due to my health. I had heard that Kalyaev was also abroad and hoped to meet up with him but when I arrived in Munich, all of the papers were filled with the question of Kalyaev's extradition by the Prussian police to the Russian gendarmes... Later, in March of 1905, I was struck as if by lightning by the news that it was Kalyaev who threw the bomb which killed the Grand Duke Sergei Aleksandrovich...
I now return to my interrupted narrative.
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One of the strongest objections to the publication of the “Manifesto" and to my supporters was the severe repression to which it would doubtlessly give rise. The "Kassa" - not a legal organization but nearly a partially open one - had its membership list fall into the hands of the Okhrana dozens of times (at least the list of its "representative committee"). We weighed this outcome seriously and agonizingly... and decided that, for this crucial step, those that did not wish to take the responsibility on themselves (we did not say those that "feared it") should leave the "Kassa" beforehand. No one left (in fact, new members were joining all the time) even though, for a few, this exit undoubtedly would have been a more worthwhile step than their subsequent behaviour... Nonetheless, these "few" were rare; the majority of those who opposed the "Manifesto", including the entire 'organizational committee' do not deserve the slightest reproach in this regard.
The "Manifesto" was the cause for the Okhranka to be permitted to go, according to Svyatkovsky's figure of speech, "from a position of biding their time to one of attack." This 'attack' manifested itself in the arrest (20 March) of the entire 'organizational committee' as well as several other individuals including myself... For me, this arrest was not unexpected: I never suffered from spy-mania but even I could no longer ignore those who were shadowing me in the days leading up to it... And besides, such a commotion had been raised around the "Manifesto", so much chatter and gossip, that my name was being declined and conjugated on practically every corner... I expected this but still maintained my course and so held no grudge against the gossipers. The arrest of the 'organizational committee' increased the "outburst of indignation" and chatter even more.
My supporters were accused and defamed as perpetrators of their own ruin... It was terrible, but we did foresee this and still we kept our course...
I don't know whether all of this would have been enough to predetermine my being accused and convicted of this crime but, as it turned out, I was caught, as they say, red-handed. On the very night that the “Manifesto” had won the vote of the 'representative committee' and the text had been handed over for printing, a draft of the document was already... in the hands of the Okhranka. It happened like this. The work of the editorial commission, which met three times as I recall, was based on the text which I had drafted.
The opening lines of the draft were adopted without any changes. I wrote the number 1 on my copy and underlined the accepted passage. After that, the remainder of the approved text followed on several sheets of paper, handwritten either by one of the members of the commission (signified with 2, 3), or written in my own hand under dictation if the original proved to be illegible. Now and again, lines from my original draft would be included and, again, I would note these accordingly (let's say - 5, 6 etc.). The closing lines of the Manifesto were again taken from my original draft. This was how the rough draft appeared.
I was not present at the final meeting of the editorial commission where the draft underwent a final reading and re-copying; I came directly to the 'representative committee' meeting (in the cafeteria). The editors had not had time to complete the final re-copying and were doing so at this meeting. When it was finished, A.I. Svidersky, a member of the editorial committee and my friend, took both the original text and the copy. When he left the room, he was approached by our colleague Petrov who asked whether he might read the text of the “Manifesto” as it was adopted by the commission. Svidersky was at that time on his way to the furnace in order to burn the draft copy. Wanting the text to be carefully read through once more before the meeting, he gave the draft to Petrov, making him give his word that he would burn it after reading it. He then continued on to the hall where the meeting was to take place.
Just as Petrov began to read, the bell sounded to signal the start of the meeting. He stuck the draft into the cuff of his student's overcoat and joined the meeting. Afterwards, a small group went on to a restaurant to celebrate the victory (I did not join them since I was dead tired). That night there was a series of arrests of participants in the workers' movement (by the way, several members of the representative committee were also arrested: M.I. Batyrev, Barabanshikov, Petrov). When Petrov returned home from the restaurant he found that he already had guests from the Okhranka: the draft of the ‘Manifesto” that had just been approved and sent for printing was taken from him and this is how it ended up with the Okhranka that same night. The next day, betraying my own wariness, I asked Svidersky where my draft was? He answered - burned. I asked again - you are sure? He answered - I am sure. Later, he told me that he had been so sure of this since, after the meeting, he had asked Petrov about the draft, and Petrov, planning to burn it on his way home, also answered that it was burned, and to the second question of his being certain, he answered that, yes, he was certain. When I was already in the 'Kresty' prison, the Procuror of the Petersburg courts F.F. Arnold' came to my cell several times. He described how all of this student business will come to nothing, that it has only resulted in mass arrests and the need to determine those responsible for the “Manifesto” who, of course, will be severely punished (32), and that the guilty would be found out since a draft of the “Manifesto” was in the hands of the investigating authorities. Somewhat upset by his words, I again appealed to Svidersky, explaining the cause of my concern. And again, he calmed me with his certainty that the draft had been burned. As it turns out, several lines in this draft were enough to convict even him... Of course, once the draft was in the hands of the authorities, I would have been convicted sooner or later (since they were comparing the handwriting of their copy with that of everyone they arrested).
But there was other material in the authority's hands that hastened my arrest. While a number of the 'organizational committee's' members were in exile, their friends (especially female students) would inform them in detail of the situation in Petersburg (by letters through the post!) One of these letters contained a thorough accounting, in an indignant tone, referring to ‘the Marxists, led by Mogilyansky’, (it seems to me that other names were also mentioned) ‘who are forcing the 'Kassa' to adopt a revolutionary manifesto’ (I don't recall the exact wording, the letter was only shown to me). The letter was not inspected and was delivered successfully. But the recipient did not destroy it; on returning to Petersburg he brought it with him. When things again became tumultuous, he was directing a meeting while the letter, truly like "a material sign of an immaterial truth” was left in his apartment. It was actually taken from him before the arrest. Clearly, a number of student leaders at that time still possessed a "fair amount of political naiveté"... I believe that, even if the draft of the “Manifesto” had not been in the hands of the investigators, this letter would have been enough to establish my responsibility for it...
Either way, I was called in for questioning a second time on, I think, Great and Holy Thursday, and immediately noticed that the gendarme Colonel Shmakov, and the colleague of the Procuror, Trusevich (later, under Stolypin, he would become famous as the Director of the Police Department) - were somehow especially triumphant... After two or three unimportant questions, Shmakov took a document that I knew all too well from an envelope and, fixing me with his stare, asked:
"Is this document familiar to you?"
Oh, the document was very familiar!
Trusevich offered me cigarettes, Shmakov related how he was always equally courteous even to the worst criminals.
"And, you know, It was I who hanged Pardovsky"... (33)
"And, you know, I interrogated Vera Figner - and now she sends me greetings every month from Schlusselberg... Maybe you don't believe me? If you like, I can call the Captain of the Cavalry. He'll confirm this, - he visits Schlusselberg every month and brings me greetings from Vera Nikolaevna"...
I did not want this, but the garrulous gendarme continued profusely: "Do you remember, M.M., last year - Simochka K. informed on all of you? And, as a matter of fact, it had been my duty to have you all arrested but I didn't, and why? Because of my life experience, I understood - Simochka is lying, the dear girl is lying!"...
I felt like vomiting...
After the interrogation, the head of "Kresty" prison was given the order that I was to be kept in "isolation", that is, before all else I was not to be permitted to join group walks. But that night, the authorities permitted me a visit from dear O.A. Chechott (the senior doctor at the Hospital of Nikolai-the-Wonder-Worker) who had treated my neurasthenia for two years. After he examined me (in the presence of the head prison doctor) he somehow managed to whisper to me that I shouldn't be frightened if I happened to read his 'findings'. I did not have the opportunity to read them, but late that very evening, the small window in my cell door opened and Chunikhin (34), the head of the prison told me, in an alarmed voice, that as of the next morning I would be permitted to exercise with the others between the hours of 10:00 am and 6:00 pm. So, in place of my "isolation" I was permitted to interact with all of the groups during their walks and I began to form strong connections with them...
But during the course of one of these encounters, I passed along a letter to M.V. Neustroyeva which was delivered to her at the time when Piramidov, the Head of the Okhranka, had only just discovered the false bottom and sides of a suitcase that she had brought back with her from Finland and that hid a shipment of a number of issues of the “Workers' Thought". The worried girl took the letter and threw it under her bed. The letter, of course, was found, the girl was arrested, and Piramidov tormented her at length, mocking: "Why, thank you for the letter! Really, I don't know how to express my gratitude - the letter is so important!" This letter, due to some strange circumstance (a strange mood had gripped me - any fool would have understood) was written in exactly the tone that one would use if they knew that the letter would end up in the hands of the Okhranka!... But the gendarmes began to doubt whether my "isolation" was sufficient and on the 7th of May I was transferred to the "remand centre". I very much regretted leaving my dear fellow-Kresty prisoners, and the place where I had spent so many happy hours! And the next month, motivated by the "findings" of Chichott, my mother organized my transfer to the convict section of Nikolai-the-Wonder-Worker Hospital.
There, the conditions of incarceration were absolutely privileged, yet when the investigation surrounding the “Manifesto” had already been concluded and my mother began to petition for my release, the Director of the Police Department Zvolyansky taunted her: "Well, as you like, madam, but how can I release someone who is insane?" And he insisted that doctors' reports be submitted to him attesting to my psychological normalcy...
I have retained many memories, both serious and funny, about my 9-day incarceration in the police station, of "Kresty", the remand centre, the hospital, of the gendarmes' interrogations, but I must let go of them, afraid that they may encumber, if not distort this sketch of my reminiscences...
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The cause for the Okhranka's "attack", or more simply put, the cause for the arrests of 20 March, was the “Manifesto"; they wanted to make it the centre of their proceedings. (Of course, they could only do so through the gendarmerie since, at that time, there were still no political judicial proceedings; they wound up with a "higher authority" by administrative order). But nothing came of it; even the investigations of the gendarmerie could not reveal a true (or even approximate) history of the “Manifesto". (35) The authorities found that it was not in their best interests to clarify this history in the wider context of the fullest extent of the law. The persecution of the entire "representative committee" (30-40 individuals) for pursuing the overthrow of autocracy would have been too sensational and would instead aid in the realization or fulfillment of the question that the initiators and supporters of the “Manifesto" themselves posed. The investigation also did not seek to establish an exact list of those who voted for or against the “Manifesto”. (Since they had not left the organization, the latter could have their punishment reduced only once they had attached any printed material published by the organization that was in their possession to the revolutionary document). Only the main culprits were punished for the “Manifesto" and even these were not particularly serious (exile for three years to Vyatskaya Guberniya under police supervision, or back to their place of birth, etc.)...
The movement did not come to an end with the arrest of the 'organizational committee'. The students answered the arrests by choosing a 'second organizational committee'; on the night of 25 March, 8 members from its ranks were arrested. A 'third' was formed (which, by the way, was joined by Kalyaev), and on the 26th of March the "student organizational committee of the Mining Institute" was arrested. On March 30, a crowd of students gathered in front of the university, intending to disrupt the examinations then being held under the watch of the Okhrana police.The crowd was surrounded by a police detachment and led to the riding hall of the Cadet Corps. During the night, the students were transferred to various police stations and then, over the next few days, they were sent in groups out of Petersburg.
On April 2, there appeared an official communication concerning the student protests and, on April 3, the 'organizational committee' answered with a short leaflet which, incidentally, stated that:... "Goremykin's goal - was to show that a heap of political intriguers "rebelled", and that after this heap was removed (there remained) a huge flock of sheep, yearning only to graze on the pages of their examinations under the leadership of a police officer, fattened for them by the bodies of their friends. The only means left to us in our struggle is this -- to refuse to take the examinations and to affirm anew that the majority is precisely where Goremykin and his associates do not want to find it".
On the night of April 4, a huge search of the Institute of Forestry was undertaken, ending only at 8:00 in the evening. Around 60 forestry students were arrested, and among the spoils were: mimeographs, hectographs, and other devices needed to make copies, as well as a typewriter.
The searches and arrests that had begun on 20 March continued until almost the middle of April. Weakened by these arrests and searches, the protesters began to slowly scatter for the summer. Those who "obeyed the rules" were able to complete their examinations without hindrance...
On May 15, a leaflet was issued by the "joint organizational committee" declaring that "with the coming of the holidays, the student movement will be suspended", and expressing the hope that those " who remember the main motivation behind our movement ..., will not agree to the negation of any of its consequences or its very cause"...
General Vannovsky's mission to "investigate causes and conditions" wound down... with a "lecture" that had no practical impact. (36)
Vannovsky was brought out from the archive once more in the role of Minister of National Education to implement a system of "heartfelt caring" which resulted in just as few practical results. But this was already during the next decade - in the early years of the new XX century...
______________________________
I entered the "Kresty" prison with acute neurasthenia and suffering from stubborn insomnia... From the first night spent in prison, healthy sleep returned to me... Scheduling my time precisely, I began a serious study: from morning until noon - Marx's Kapital; after lunch - something lighter, mostly history; from 6:00 p.m., belle lettres. (An entire library gradually collected in my cell). In the three short months of my incarceration I thoroughly filled in the "gaps" (in my education) and later I would always joke that they were in a bit of a hurry to let me out so as not to allow me to finish reading the third volume of "Kapital”. I never did get through the last 200-250 pages... Prison also served me as a sanatorium; from that time I no longer suffered from neurasthenia... I believe that the main reason for this was spiritual balance and a feeling of moral satisfaction. It is strange to say that I felt myself to be the "freest" of men. I had had my say - which expressed the immediate task of the new Russia. I did not have a single moment of regret for what I had done. It seemed to me a historical necessity, opening up new paths. General Vannovsky (among others) called us - "scoundrels, revolutionaries". For him (and not only for him) these attested to the same thing: scoundrel revolutionaries. We felt the full force of the anger of old Russia's leaders; we knew that many of our comrades, still separated from us by their remaining "political naiveté”, were already losing the last vestiges of this and would soon join us. We no longer grumbled about the absurd and vain attempts to cling to "social, but not political", and then "political, but not revolutionary”. We acknowledged the significance of spontaneous mass protest, even without sufficient political enlightenment. We felt the coming of the "conquering wave"... Dragomanov's old assertion - "unanimous rejection of the old order and a distinct demand for new foundations, fully understood by conscious societies, always disarmed the most reactionary governments" formed for me a new flesh, heated in me a new blood... And under the influence of all of this my certainty was strengthened, the certainty with which I stepped into my conscientious life, the certainty that our generation was fated to see the fall of autocracy...
The 1890's provided a convincing answer to the long search in revolutionary thought for a method of revolution, an answer that was not only theoretical but was well-reasoned and based on the eloquent facts of the new reality. This was answered by a broad working-class movement, sending deep roots into the epoch of "economism". Practically speaking, one can't single out the moment when the working class movement was purely economic; the class struggle, in its widest measure, always included political moments, strengthening only gradually and revealing itself more and more... And, in the end, the revolutionized mood and consciousness of a wide proletarian circle increased its revolutionary activism, and the movement indeed stepped up to raising political problems to the fullest extent.
The movement did display a certain indecisiveness. This was not so much because of the overall conservative outlook and the strength of its tactical habits (to a certain extent, it may have been one or the other). Rather, it was due to the strength of the perhaps not always conscious doubts in one's own abilities to solve problems...
Historical necessity dictated the raising of political problems as national questions. "The rejection of the old order" needed to become "unanimous”. The "demand for new foundations" - "distinct". And thus, by the end of the 1890's there rose, on the crest of a high wave, a spontaneous student protest: Marxist youth clearly and definitively, dotting every 'i', raised the national question - the overthrow of autocracy. The students, in that moment, held the "advance post" and the okhrannik Statkovsky was not wrong when he characterized this moment as the "prelude to the Russian revolution".
I know that the later streams moving through this riverbed do not come from the "Kassa Manifesto". But the “Manifesto", whose importance became extraordinarily greater due to its appearance at the moment when the workers' movement broke away from 'economism' and entered the 'political' sphere - not accidentally an important element in the work of active social-democrats - still remains a recognized pillar. Its novelty lay not so much in its ideas - the struggle against autocracy had already been going on for decades - but in the open declaration of these ideas by an almost open organization - the 'Kassa' was, after all, formally illegal and could have been shut down fairly easily. So, from this perspective, the revolutionary phraseology of the ‘Manifesto' was less important than the very fact of its content - "the rejection of the old order and a unanimous demand for new foundations". During the following years, when the zemstva, towns, academic and social organizations, various 'unions' etc. produced their own 'rejections' and their 'demands', they invested the structure and content of these with the same qualities in a new form; they were following the same path upon which the 'Kassa' had stepped in March, 1899, with its 'Manifesto".
But, again, these events took place in the early years of the XX century.
4 June, 1922
Petersburg
Mikh. Mogiliansky
ENDNOTES
1. Plekhanov, 14 December 1825., Petrograd, 1921, p. 30.
2. When I entered university, we had the newspaper "Narod" sent to the address of the Archdeacon Ch. - (who later would renounce his holy orders to tread the boards on the stage of the provincial opera). At the time of my first visit home to Chernigov during the Christmas holidays, I happened to run into Ch. who was very worried. He had received a notice from the post office informing him that an international package had arrived in his name but that it needed to be opened before it could be delivered. There was no doubt that this "package" contained issues of "Narod". Together, we went to the post office. From a drawer, the clerk took out an envelope that was familiar to both of us, on which was written, in red pencil, "open before delivering". He slowly reached for a pair of scissors and cut the envelope open. Then he took an issue of 'Narod" out, shook it as if he were looking for illegally hidden money, and phlegmatically pronounced: “There’s no money… So I’ll report that these papers came from Mount Athos. Take them away!” and handed the package to us... We never found out whether this was a sancta simplicitas or whether the clerk meant to save the addressee from any unpleasantness. But the frightened deacon asked to be relieved from receiving any further issues of the dangerous 'Narod'. The new addressee continued to receive them regularly.
3. I remember something of an anecdotal story that he told of one of these inquests: the gendarme authorities, accompanied by the friend of the procuror, were travelling to some god-forsaken corner of Sosnitsky District to investigate the denunciation of a peasant who, it seemed, had criticized the tsar. The colonel was a good-hearted individual and tried to hush things up but, to his and the procuror's friend's horror, when the peasant was asked whether the accusations were true, he answered: “Of course i swore at him, and I’ll scold him again!“… and a stream of abuse poured from his mouth... It became necessary to follow protocol. Then the abuser turned to the colonel: “But, Your Honour, if you could call for an investigation here and catch him in the act, you would see for yourself what an offensive swine he is!"... It turned out that his neighbour, with whom his relations were not cordial, had been given the nickname "tsar"...
4. We heard constant expressions of regret about the closing of this society from our liberal professors, and tales of the huge influence it had on the moral and social unity of the students then involved in academic literary work. But we clearly understood that the framework of a legal organization would prove too fragile and brittle for our revolutionary mood, and the melancholy sighs of our liberal professors regarding the Literary-Academic Society did not elicit a very sympathetic response from us.
5. The police rules which hindered all student societies also proved to be a serious obstacle to the work of the 'representative committee' of the 'Kassa'. The student residences were always under surveillance by yard-keepers and porters who were required to inform the police whenever there was a gathering of more than five students. And meetings of the committee were often interrupted by the police who would record the members' names and addresses before forcing them to disperse. On the occasions when the police arrived, we would usually create a scene of false "trustworthiness" - glasses and two or three open bottles of beer would be put out on the table in order to mask the true purpose of the meeting and dispel any thought of it having a political character. Sometimes it would work out that an obliging yard-keeper or porter, for a small bribe, would agree to notify the police about the meeting only an hour or two after it had begun so that all of our business would have been completed at the moment when the police arrived and the members, avoiding being recorded by the police for their compromising "political loyalties", could have left in advance... The meeting was not to end until one and a half hours had gone by after the porter had notified the police so that he was not punished for informing them too late. I remember one occasion when the porter, returning form the police station, came to tell the owner of the apartment in which we were meeting: "You can leave whenever you like." The duty officer at the station, having received the information about a student meeting, had asked "are there many of them?" and, receiving the answer: "more than 20", for some reason said: “Ah, the hell with them! Let them meet!..."
6. Later - around the mid-1890's - a Ukrainian Association formed whose influence was long and successful. During its meetings, papers concerning current events were often read. I recall presenting a paper in which I raised the question of nationalism in general, and Ukrainian nationalism in particular, from the Marxist perspective. The Association played an important role in organizing annual public gatherings in the memory of Shevchenko as well as creating events for its own members in memory of Shevchenko, Kostomarov, Dragomanov, which often resulted in very detailed, thorough papers. The Association charged itself with raising the cultural development of the Ukrainian people, which it tried to do through studying the national literature written in the Ukrainian language and disseminating it throughout Ukraine. I remember when the famous proponent of Ukrainian cooperative movements, N.V. Levitsky, spoke with heated advocacy for the formation of agricultural cooperatives, drawing a severe and sharp critique from the Marxists which the venerable cooperator bore with patronizing condescension, although it clearly pained him to hear the younger members of the Association disapprove of putting his ideas into practice...
7. A number of these students would later play an important role in the formation of the social-democratic movement.
8. Further to this, information about P. Statkovsky, which was printed with his "Notes" in the publication "Bylovo”, suggesting that he was a student at the University of Petersburg until1893 is completely inaccurate. Statkovsky was never a student at this university; his work as an Okhrana informer which was found out at the meeting of February 19 signalled the end of his "involvement with the university"... Incidentally, - a few words pro domo sua concerning the inaccuracy of Statkovsky's "Notes": in assessing the revolutionary character of the "Kassa" by including a short list of the names of its more revolutionary members, he included my own name among them, ascribing to me a role in the organization that attempted to kill General Trepov in 1905. This reveals a strange fabrication by Statkovsky. I lived in Kiev during the whole of 1905, and moved to Petersburg in 1906 without participating in any terrorist organizations. Thus, no accusation against me in this matter has ever come to light.
9. M. Ol'minsky. "Old Ties" in the collection "From the Blagoyev Group to "Union for Struggle". Gosud. Publisher, Donskoi Section, 1921.
10. The "People's Right" party, under the leadership of the old revolutionary M.A. Natanson, posed a suggestion that was a little incongruous with the trend in ideas at the time. He wanted to bring together all revolutionaries without distinction for the sake of addressing the "vital question" of the moment - the overthrow of autocracy, for which all other disputed questions within Russian revolutionary thought should be laid aside as a secondary plan. The “People’s Right Party", which had a printing press (which was confiscated in April, 1894, in Smolensk, I believe) truly was more of a literary group and never achieved any wide-spread influence.
11. See, for example, "Vannovsky's Mission" N.I. Iordansky. "Byloye", September, 1907, p. 84
12. M. Lyadov. The History of the Russ. Social-Dem. Workers Party. Saint Petersburg. 1906, p. 149
13. K. Tulin's article was included in the collection "Materials on the Characteristics of our Economic Development" Saint Petersburg. 1895, which was burned by the censors. A few copies of this publication survived the fire in tact but it remained an extreme bibliographic rarity, only familiar to those who were intimately connected to Marxist circles.
14. This sharpened polemical mood also impacted my earliest literary work. In my brochure on Nadson's poetry, I explained the crisis in the public mood by stating "it sprang up, gathered strength, and forcefully announced its essential capitalism". Grinevich (Iakubovich) spread my "exultant optimism" in "Russkoye Bogatstvo”. Mikhailovsky cruelly reproached me and charged me with "refusing a legacy"... I must, however, admit that I attempted to attach just the slightest "hint" to this phrase of the deepest source of capitalism's strength but which would create the inevitable and victorious struggle against it. The censor cut off this endeavour, crossing out the "hint" with red ink. I was just barely able to replace this hint with a similar one, concluding the passage with the assertion cited from Lasalle that "now, but only just, the light of dawn was becoming noticeable" with the phrase: "no force exists on earth that could stop the slow, majestic rising of the sun." The censors of that time were vigilant and suspicious of even the most modest "hint"... One of my earliest literary works - a polemical brochure-response to that of I. Gofshtetter's "Doctrinairism of Capitalism" (1895), titled "The Toadies of Populism" was not passed by the censor despite its emphasis on polemical "objectivism" and I was even refused the return of my manuscript. The cruel dressing down that my brochure on Nadson's poetry and my "verses" on economic materialism received from Grinevich, having nothing to do with the artistic failings of the latter, brought me great satisfaction. I was aware enough of the literary weakness of my poems that from that time I never wrote another one, but the title of “Singer of Economic Materialism" which Grinevich bestowed on me flattered my youthful pride...
15. At the time of the large scale agitation of 1899, something similar happened: the Okhranka, as was definitely proved, issued a proclamation in the "Kassa's" name inviting students to gather on Kazan Square. This proclamation bore the seal of the 'Kassa' but differed from the one that was then in use by the organization. We remembered that the cashier of the organization had been arrested a year or two before this and his seal was taken from him: this thread helped us determine the origins of the counterfeit proclamation.
16. Sm. Byloye, No. 22.
17. I learned of his death while I was sitting in a Chernigov prison and wrote the poem "In Memory of a Friend" which was later published in the social-democrat newspaper "Vpiryod" in Kiev. I remember only the beginning and end of the poem:
While in prison I heard of your passing
My unfortunate comrade and friend,
May your memory be eternal
May peace follow your stormy life!...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Let them put us in their prisons
Where we break and are crippled and bowed.
Our power is growing, maturing
In strength, it will throw off the fetters
And iniquity of the unjust!...
18. Studies of these, by the way, may be found in N. Iordansky's "The Mission of P. S. Vankovsky" Byloye, September 1907; in Engel's and Gorokhov's brochure, "From a History of the Student Movement 1899-1906" Saint Petersburg - the publication date is unknown, and also in the notes of the Okhranik P. Statkovsky, "The Petersburg Section of the Okhrana 1895-1901", Byloye, No.16 (1921). The last "work", interesting due to its origins, is highly defective as a reliable historical source. For example, Statkovsky often confuses the Rector of the university, V.I. Sergeevich, with N.D. Sergeevsky, the Professor of Criminal Law, and explains the catcalls the Rector received from the students on February 8, 1899 as due to " the support he showed for the death penalty in his writings". (In fact, as a professor, Sergeevich was always very popular and had a wide audience.)
Further, Statkovsky combined two important proclamations which were issued by different organizations and at different times into one. He blends a lengthy citation from The Kassa “Manifesto” (which appeared around March 16-18, and not on March 4, as Statkovsky states) with another from the proclamation of the "Organizational Committee" which was, in fact, issued on March 4. If the first "mistake" stems only from the author's lack of culture, this second one proves that historical accuracy was not important to an "okhrana" history. Both proclamations, of course, ended up in the possession of the Okhrana and were thus in the hands of their "historian". The "Manifesto", by the way, was one of the reasons for "allowing the Okhrana to move from its wait and see strategy and take the offensive or, more simply put, - to make arrests". The Okhrana's "Report", of course, did not pursue questions of historical inquiry, and was only meant to put an end to the "revolutionary character" of the student movement and the organizations that led it. But which organization in particular, and when exactly this "revolutionary character" was revealed? This was all the same to the Okhranka. It seems Statkovsky was no historian. This needs to be kept in mind when using his "notes" as a historical source.
19. The only organization that could have carried out such a decision was the ‘Kassa', but the ‘Kassa' did not discuss any questions concerning the action to be taken on February 8. So, Statkovsky's claim that the Okhranka knew in advance that the students intended, "after the ceremony, to stage a demonstration by crossing the Dvorets Bridge in procession, singing the Marseilles, and then continue down Nevsky Prospect" appears to be a fabrication. The decision to send out "a significant detachment of regular and mounted police" in order to prevent the students from being able to cross the Dvorets Bridge to Nevsky Prospect after leaving the university can be explained by the fact that usually, after Founder’s Day ceremonies, students would leave the university in large groups, sing the "Marseilles" and other revolutionary songs, and would not obey the orders of the police to disperse. It had long been understood by the students that on the occasion of February 8, more than usual was permitted and that no serious repression would be ordered that day against such harmless demonstrations as returning from the ceremonies singing revolutionary songs mixed in with "Gaudeamus" and other student songs. The singing of songs on the Dvorets Bridge and on Nevsky had its place even before 1898 and the police, not having prepared in time with sufficient "force" could do nothing with the students who, on this date, felt that they were being "celebrated". It was because of this that, in 1899, "forces" were made ready in the form of "a significant detachment of regular and mounted police". All that the Okhranka knew in advance was what had become a typical occurrence on February 8, and it only turned out to be more extreme this year because of the reawakened spirits of the students.
20. "Byloye", No.16, p. 126.
21. N.I. Iordansky, a prominent member of the "Organizational Committee" describes this ironically as well as repeating the common expression, more common after February 8 - "our 'alma mater' has become our 'mater corrupta'." (Byloye" 1907, No.9) Nevertheless, is there such a great distance between this "common expression" and the expression "insulted regimental honour?"
22. In his Memoirs, Iordansky says that the students who joined the "first organizational committee" were already affiliated "at one stage or another with the developing socio-political programmes of the time. Some were leaning toward social-democracy, others to socio-populism". It must be said that it is more accurate here to use the less definite "leaning" rather than "affiliated”. Even with the stipulation of their being "at one stage or another", many of those being referred to would later "lean" in a completely different direction than the one they were then leaning toward. But much more importantly - many of them, having passed through the school of the events of 1899, not only leaned toward one or another "socio-political programme" definitively, but joined active political groups; that is, they took an active part in revolutionary work.
23. Iordansky's references to this in his Memoirs do not paint a wholly accurate picture and are wrong in some important respects: "this was the epoch of the "Workers' Thought", an epoch of economism which least of all was able to assume the correct position in relation to the political struggle of other classes. The reaction against this trend was already developing in the foundations of the future "Iskra", and future arguments among social-democrats first played out in miniature during 'Kassa' meetings. A portion of the social-democrats was eager to support this new movement"... In fact, no difference of opinion between the social-democracts in the 'Kassa' was evident at that time, and no 'arguments' 'played out'. The majority were not inclined to take on an immediate or spontaneous role in the student movement, seeing as this might have unfortunate consequences for the work that they valued much more highly and to which they devoted their strength. But taking into account the emerging mood and finding that the formation of the "organizational committee" appeared as its perfect expression, they found it beneficial to "shift" the leadership of the movement "onto the shoulders of the committee" (Iordansky's phrase) if only to observe the effect of this pressure on the committee. It is customary to throw blame on the "Workers' Thought" and 'economism' for their apathy and "inability to take up the correct position in relation to political struggle" - especially when there is little acquaintance with the facts. Iordansky does not once detect this lack of familiarity in his own Memoirs. But this 'episode' at once testifies to the weakness of these charges. The social-democrats within the 'Kassa' were at the time in very close contact with the "Workers' Thought" group and they were especially persistent in their efforts to raise the political temperature of the student movement. This can be seen in the publication of the Kassa “Manifesto", the most strongly worded and definitive document produced throughout the time of the movement. But of this, more will be said later. Incidentally, with regards to internal relations within the 'Kassa', I will note that, although the majority subscribed to social-democracy at that time, and were busy with their own work, showing little interest in purely student affairs, they did not enter into the 'Kassa's' administration. They left that responsibility to those who were "leaning" toward one or another socio-political programme and had not yet separated themselves from student professionalism. Almost all of the 'Kassa’s’ administration was found in the "organizational committee", the members of which were absorbed in their own on-going work. This is why meetings of the 'administrative council' at the time of the movement were only authorized by the committee which further increased the predominance of social-democrats on the 'administrative council'. The 'organizational committee' tried to fight this predominance, especially during the time of strained relations during discussions about the “Manifesto”. They brought new delegates into the ranks of the 'administrative council' (since it required a circle of at least five people), but the social-democrats answered with the same tactics. This resulted in an 'administrative council' that became over-populated, while the alignment of forces within the conflict-filled group did not change very much...
24. Byloye, 1907, No.9, p.102-103.
25. Alas, these relations turned out to be costly and decisive in that, in response to Vannovsky's question: "perhaps you are seeking some kind of constitution?", they should have answered: “Our movement cannot make that our goal", and should have remained quiet when the aging general reflected further on a "constitution”, not wanting to enter the risky province of state-legal arguments". (Iordansky, "Byloye", 1907, No.9, p.117).
26. It seems to Iordansky that the basic questions in this proclamation already permitted "a sufficiently frank revolutionary character”. At that time the Marxists did not see this and my comic verse, which was passed around by hand, had some success amongst them. In one example, in the style of a grandiloquent lament, the "organizational committee" protested the "liberal trash" that stood in the way of the movement:
Liberalism's litter
Has cluttered our vision.
Ah, litter is not so bad,
Woe, - a lot of nonsense
Is worse than litter in every way,
In the chasm of our mind...
27. I don't know why Iordansky calls it an "unimportant proclamation". In contrast to this, Statkovsky maintains that "this “Manifesto” made the character of the student demonstrations obvious, that this was not a student movement, but a prelude to the Russian Revolution". Iordansky himself relates the impression the “Manifesto" made on Vannovsky, regardless of the after-effects through which he recalled the movement. I think that I can contend, purely objectively and not through any author's pride, that the “Manifesto" belongs in this classification. I am not trying to ascribe any extraordinary importance to it, but I do not know why the most striking and politically certain proclamation of the entire 1899 movement would be qualified as "unimportant". All value is relative. In comparing the “Manifesto" with all of the "literature" of the movement, this qualification would, doubtless, be justified...
28. I also think that one can’t, by even a naive measure, say that it could not be 'advantageous' (in the sense of it being vulnerable to criticism from the aspect of "various articles of the code", obviously?), as Iordansky explains in his negative stance towards the “Manifesto".
29. Iordansky, p.129.
30. This is most successfully done in Sazonov's Memoirs, which are included in "Revolutionary Russia".
31. In 1908, when I was an editor at M.V. Pirozhkov's publishing house, Bal'mont sent us the manuscript of "White Lightning" from Paris. His essay, "Flutes from Human Bones" stirred memories of Kalyaev in me and I had the overwhelming desire for the "Song of the Polish Prisoner" to reach Russian readers in a full translation. I could not, of course, hide from M.V. Pirozhkov the consequences that would threaten us if we did so. But M.V. was not scared off... and was sentenced to one year in "Kresty" by the Petersburg court as a result. The book was confiscated, but prior to this around 150 copies of the 15000 we printed were bought . And my wish to give a full translation of Kalyaev's favourite poem to the Russian reader was realized.
32. When I was already 'convicted', Arnol'd, clearly worried that he had seriously 'frightened' me with this threat, would come to my cell and try to soften these words.
33. Involved in the "Proletariat" affair.
34. I became acquainted with him during the prior summer when we were both taking the cure in Naugheim, and when they placed me in his "institution", he came to my cell within half an hour and, opening the little window, said with great joy - "Do you recognize me, M.M.?" Of course, I recognized him. From that time, he often came by to chat. Everyone who was imprisoned in 'Krestakh' during that time probably remembers his harmless, incessant chatter.
35. There is nothing extraordinary in the fact that the Okhranka, at first, was inclined to ascribe the “Manifesto” to the 'organizational committee', and Iordansky incorrectly attests to this inclination as a "deceit". At that time there were no Okhranka agents in student societies and, given the fact that the proclamation of the 'organizational committee' and the “Manifesto” were both printed by the ‘Kassa', that the printing press was in the possession of one of the committee's members, it was not easy, at first, to orient oneself in this business. I do not know what means were used by those who were interested in wrecking the "vindictive plans of the political spies..." The members of the 'organizational committee' (and those others who had become involved) in any case did not resort to means that challenged the boundaries of political correctness. Yet, each individual found their own means which were 'life saving' (if not in the literal sense of "life", then one's "well-being") and gave more or less open testimony and sufficiently illuminated the true path of the process. There were those who naively counted themselves to be "absolutely in the right" to give such evidence once they were fighting against the “Manifesto" in the "administrative council" and voting against it. One of these "naive ones", returning from his interrogation by the gendarmes, spoke openly of the evidence he gave. Everyone who was listening became uncomfortable and Kalyaev, who was among them, hurled at the speaker: "Listen, V., either you are an idiot who is completely unaware of what he is doing, or a scoundrel!" V. burst into tears, embarrassing the gentle Kalyaev (the scene was truly difficult), but he remained firm in his opinion that he could not have avoided saying what he had said. I must also note that no frank testimony could have made things worse for the "prime suspects", since the confluence of a number of circumstances sealed their guilt even without this evidence. The fact that someone was able to "disentangle" themselves individually, perhaps with evidence pertaining to his unique circumstances, did not have a wider social significance.
36. Those who are curious about this "mission" will find an interesting study of it in the Memoirs of Iordansky, already cited by me more than once. "Byloye" 1907, No.9.
(Translated by Irina Efimov)