Not till the summer of 1876 did the first attempt to put the terrorist theory into practice take place. The circumstances were as follows. The members of a revolutionary group well known at the time—the Kiëv Buntari[[6]]—had assembled at Elisavetgrad. I belonged to this organisation. Many of the members were “illegals,”[[7]] and for some time past the gendarmerie had been making captures among them, acting on the information of a traitor named Gorinòvitch. This Gorinòvitch had been imprisoned in 1874, and being in the greatest danger had saved himself by telling everything he knew about the Russian Socialists. His revelations had injured many; yet, as in numerous other cases, not a hair of this renegade’s head would have been touched, if he had kept clear of revolutionary circles. But about two years after his release from prison he tried again to insinuate himself among us, and he managed to get into the confidence of some inexperienced young people, who of course had no notion of the part he had formerly played. From them he learned that the Kiëv Society had assembled at Elisavetgrad; he came there at once, and sought to find out what the persons he had before betrayed were doing. We recognised him, however, and it soon became evident to us that he was playing the spy, and preparing some fresh treachery. So I and one other comrade resolved to put an end to his life.

Our determination could not be carried into effect in Elisavetgrad itself, or it might have resulted in giving the police a clue for the discovery of our organisation. We therefore asked Gorinòvitch if he would go with us to Odessa to find the persons he was in search of, and he agreed. There in a lonely spot we attempted to execute our mission, and left Gorinòvitch lying, as we thought, dead, with a paper fastened on his breast bearing the inscription, “So perish all traitors!” But he was only severely injured, was found by the police, and survived to give information concerning his attempted assassination. Searches and arrests followed in due course, and although at the time I succeeded in avoiding capture, in the autumn of the following year I was arrested, together with other comrades, on account of the famous Tchigirìn case.[[8]]

I was imprisoned in Kiëv, but in the beginning of 1878 I escaped[[9]] in company with Stefanòvitch and Bohanòvsky.

Those who were concerned in the attempt against Gorinòvitch were prosecuted for the first time in November, 1879, at a period when both the “red” and the “white” terrorism[[10]] had blazed up. After a series of attempts against different representatives of the Government, the revolutionists had concentrated their entire strength on the endeavour to assassinate Alexander II. The Government combated the terrorist movement by means of special enactments, martial law, and death penalties, to which large numbers of people were sentenced who were perfectly innocent of complicity in the above deeds. On November 19th, some days before the beginning of the Gorinòvitch case (and after the accused had been acquainted with the facts alleged against them, for which they were only liable to comparatively light sentences), the Terrorists blew up a train on the Moscow line, believing the Tsar to be in it. In consequence of this the Government determined to revenge themselves upon the accused in the Gorinòvitch case. Of these only one had been directly implicated, and as all had been imprisoned two or three years already before the beginning of the terrorist agitation, they could under no circumstances be supposed answerable for that agitation. In spite of this it was decided to “make an example” by inflicting a heavy sentence. Three of the accused,—Drebyasghin, Malinka, and Maidansky—were condemned to death by hanging, and were executed on December 3rd; two—Kostyurin and Yankovski—were sentenced to penal servitude; and the traitors Krayev and Kuritzin were set free. If I had been in the power of these judges my fate would have been sealed. However, early in the year 1880 I effected my escape from Russia, and I had been living in Switzerland up to the time of my going to Freiburg as previously described. From all this it will be clear with what feelings I contemplated the possibility of extradition to Russia.

CHAPTER II
THE CAUSE OF MY ARREST—PROFESSOR THUN—MY DEFENCE—PLANS OF ESCAPE—MY LEGAL ADVISER

In Germany, as a constitutional state, the law requires that no one shall be imprisoned for more than four-and-twenty hours without a magistrate’s order. As a foreigner, however, this was not held to apply to me; and it was only after two days that I was brought before a magistrate.

After he had asked me the usual questions as to name, position, and antecedents, he informed me that being a foreigner whose identity could not be immediately established, I must remain in prison. He added that, of course, I could appeal against this decision, but that I should find it useless to do so. And, in fact, the appeal that I did make was rejected.

So after this examination I was as wise as ever regarding the cause of my arrest. Again, I began turning over and over my various conjectures. Uncertainty is always an unpleasant condition, and most prisoners have to endure it; but in my case uncertainty racked me with the most dreadful apprehensions. After three days that seemed endless, I was again taken before the magistrate. When the ordinary questions had been answered he asked me if I knew the reason of my arrest. On my reply in the negative he gave me the following explanation:—

Some days before my arrival from Basel two men had come from the same place, (my acquaintance, the Swiss Socialist, and the Pole Yablonski). They also had put up at the Freiburger Hof; they also had brought boxes filled with books. They had despatched those books to a man in Breslau, who had just been imprisoned under the law against Socialists; and in connection with his arrest the police had confiscated the parcel, in which were discovered Polish socialistic pamphlets prohibited in Germany. The senders having given the address of the Freiburger Hof, the pamphlets had been sent back to Freiburg, as a preliminary to the search for the persons who had despatched them. Orders were given at the hotel to inform the police if they or any other suspicious characters should arrive from Switzerland. Thus it was that the hotel porter, learning that I had books in my trunk, had, after consultation with the landlord, given information which led to the appearance of the police. The detective had found among my books the duplicate of one in the Breslau parcel—the Calendar of the Naròdnaia Vòlya; and when he also discovered copies of the Sozialdemokrat, things were suspicious enough to warrant my arrest. The charge against me, therefore, was that in conjunction with other persons I was guilty of distributing prohibited Polish literature in Germany.

On hearing this, it was easy for me to reply to the charge that there was nothing in Polish among my books, nor any single book which had been prohibited in Germany; and as to the copies of the Sozialdemokrat, their possession was no offence. The question resolved itself simply into this: Whether I was in conspiracy with certain persons, and whether I had not in any case been circulating forbidden literature. Chance alone had led to my capture.