“I should like to speak to a person whom you have here in the prison. Làzarev is his name,” replied the stranger.
“Have you a permit?”
“Certainly, certainly; here it is,” said the man in the kaftan, and held out the paper.
The captain settled his glasses and read. Suddenly up he jumped as if he had had a blow, and began to stammer out a thousand apologies. “Pray sit down, Count! I really did not recognise you!” And then to the inspector, “Hi, Ivànov!” he cried, “ tell them to send Làzarev. The Count wants to see him.”
The whole prison seemed waked up. Bells were rung, and people ran about calling out: “ Làzarev! Send Làzarev! Count Leo Tolstoi has come to see him!”
Yegor Làzarev, a peasant by birth, a very intelligent and well-educated man, was from Count Tolstoi’s district. He was to be sent to Eastern Siberia by administrative order for a term of three years, simply because he, being a lawyer, had defended his poorer neighbours of the village in various cases of exaction by officials.
CHAPTER XV
POLITICAL CONDITION OF RUSSIA AND THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY—OUR LITTLE SOCIETY—FÊTE DAYS—PROHIBITED VISITS-A LECTURE ON MANNERS
At the time of which I am writing the reactionary policy of the new Tsar was already clearly indicated. Four years had passed since the accession of Alexander III., and signs of his domestic policy were visible in frequent death-sentences, favouring of Anti-Semitism (which had sprung up in various towns in south-west Russia), the appointment of the universally detested Count Dmitri Tolstoi as Minister of the Interior, the institution of new regulations at the Universities, not only for students, but for professors, and so on. In spite of all this there were still some incurable optimists who hoped this might prove but a brief transition period, soon to be followed by radical reforms; they even anticipated the granting of a Constitution to the country. I remember well how various educated people-lawyers, physicians, etc.—would, when conversing with us, make hopeful prophecies: “You’ll see, in five years we shall have the Constitution.”
Undoubtedly many of the younger revolutionists shared these hopes; if not all, at any rate the majority believed that sooner or later the Terrorists would “remove” Alexander III., as they had his father, and that then, as a matter of course, “the Constitution must come.” Some were so firmly convinced of this that when I ventured to express a doubt, bets were often offered me as to how few years would elapse before the great event came to pass. “Before we have reached our place of exile Alexander III. will be gone,” declared many young people.
This self-deception had one advantage in helping them to bear their fate and keep up their courage; but these castles in the air were doomed to a speedy destruction. As I have said already, the Naròdnaia Vòlya was nearing its collapse, and the Terrorists were now scarcely any real menace to the Government. The original trusted leaders of the society were either dead or languishing in prison, and their successors showed none of the capacity needed to carry on a conspiracy of that sort; while, on the other hand, the police had learnt much, knew better how to spread their nets, and left the young conspirators no time to develop their powers. The untried and unskilfully managed societies were run to earth before they could undertake anything definite, and the unity and interdependence that characterised the original band of members disappeared.