“Oh, never fear! they would soon manage that. Nothing would be easier than to get Germany’s consent, and then they would sentence you according to your deserts. People who have had far less against them than you—Malìnka, Drebyàsgin, Maidànsky—have long ago been executed. And you—you broke out of prison just when you were at last to be brought up for judgment in the Gorinòvitch case. Then for quite eight years you were engaged in conspiracies; and then you were the instigator, along with Stefanòvitch, of the Tchigirìn affair, and so on, and so on. That all this should only let you in for a few years’ hard labour did not at all suit the views of Government. So when you were extradited a special council was held in high circles. Of course, I was not there. I am not numbered among the elect; but this is what I have been told. At first they were all unanimous in declaring that a modification of the extradition treaty must be arranged, so that you might be brought before a special tribunal. Then, as you can easily imagine, they would have made short work with you! But one of these great personages had a qualm, and he urged, ‘Germany might fall in with our views. Well and good! But is that really a good precedent? They have caught Deutsch for us now. To-morrow a still more important capture might be made in some other country, and then it might be hard for us to get an extradition. The Press would make a hubbub; they would say, Russia never respects treaties, and would point to the case of Deutsch as an example.’ This consideration influenced the majority, and it was consequently resolved to proceed against you in the Gorinòvitch case only. This is why you were put into the Fortress of Peter and Paul until a decision was arrived at.”
It is quite possible that Kotliarèvsky betrayed this secret of state to me with the object of loosening my tongue; but perhaps he really had no afterthought, and told tales out of school just for the joke of it.
In the further course of our conversation he touched on many subjects, among others on political prosecutions in Russia. I remarked to him how often perfectly harmless persons were condemned to fearful punishments.
“What would you have?” he replied. “When trees are felled there must be chips. As the ancient Romans said: ‘Summum jus, summa injuria.’ Personally I do not approve of capital punishment at all. I say to myself that in a great state political offences are inevitable. With a population of many millions there must always be a few thousand malcontents, and, of course, examples must be made of any disturbers of the peace. But a strong Government ought to be able to render them innocuous without resorting to the death penalty.”
In pursuance of this theme, he then asked me, to all appearance casually, how many Terrorists in my opinion there might be in Russia. I answered that I knew nothing at all about it, for I myself did not now belong to the Terrorists, but to the Social-Democratic party.
“Oh yes,” he said, “but as a ‘friendly power’ you must be able to judge as to the strength of the terrorist organisation. I think myself their numbers must be very small now.”
In point of fact there were indeed very few active Terrorists left in Russia. I did not, however, wish to strengthen Kotliarèvsky’s opinion about the “friendly powers,” so told him that according to my estimate there could be only a few thousand, not more.
“How can you make that out?” he asked. “It is quite impossible; I reckon at most some hundreds. They have been imprisoned in crowds just lately.”
I persisted in my opinion, and therewith we separated.
At this time, i.e. in the summer of 1881, there were in this House of Detention a number of prisoners accused of different political offences. One of these so-called offences, on account of which numberless persons had been sent to prison in Petersburg, Moscow, and many smaller towns, or even in Siberia, was what Kotliarèvsky called “the old clothes case.” He gave me the following account of this highly important affair of state. In some domiciliary visit the police had found a note containing the names of persons who were assisting the political prisoners by providing them with clothes and other necessaries. Thereupon a number of these persons were arrested; and he told me that an imposing case was being trumped up against this “secret society,” under the name of the “Red Cross League of the Naròdnaia Vòlya.” (Of course, Kotliarèvsky did not mind giving a sly hit at the gendarmerie, with whom the police officials have many little tiffs, each often putting a spoke in the other’s wheel.)