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 13at 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.
“If you had not gone to the Freiburger Hof nobody would have thought of arresting you,” said Herr Leiblen, the magistrate.
My spirits rose on hearing this. I said to myself, “All is not lost yet. Perhaps everything will go off smoothly, and I shall soon be set free, if only the Russian Government is kept out of the game.” That was the thought 14which occupied me while the magistrate was writing out the protocol. He then said, pointing to a gentleman who sat at a table somewhat apart, “That is the interpreter who is assisting us in your case, a professor of our University.”
During my examination I had once or twice looked round at this gentleman. He seemed known to me, and his presence caused me involuntary uneasiness.
“You can speak Russian with the Herr Professor,” concluded Herr Leiblen, as he left the room to fetch some document.
“Do you not recognise me?” said the interpreter, turning round.
“Professor Thun!” cried I in great astonishment.
“What! am I so much altered that you didn’t know me before?“ he asked, and did not wait for my answer, but continued without pause, “How can I help you?”
“Do you know who I really am?” I asked, without replying, and a cold shudder ran through me.
“Yes; I know your true name. But there is no need for alarm. You have turned quite pale!”
His recognition had indeed given me no small fright. I had come to know Professor Thun about a year and a half before this time in Basel, whither I had then betaken myself in order that, being there at some distance from the colony of Russian refugees, I might be freer from interruptions to my studies than when surrounded by friends and acquaintances. I had matriculated in the Basel University, and was attending Professor Thun’s lectures on political economy and statistics. Karl Moor, a leader of the Basel working-men, had introduced me personally to the professor, who supposed me to be simply a Russian student, not knowing me by my real name, but under the assumed one of Nicholas Kridner. He invited me to call on him, and confided to me his plan of writing a history of the revolutionary movement in Russia. Of this plan I had already heard, and it was partly this that had 15attracted me to Basel. Professor Thun was a Rhinelander, had studied at Dorpat, and had then passed some years in the interior of Russia. He spoke Russian fluently, and was pretty well up in Russian affairs. When he found, in conversation with me, that I was not unacquainted with the Russian revolutionary movement, he suggested that I should help him in his work, to which of course I gladly assented; and thus it happened that we became rather intimate. In this way I learned Professor Thun’s views regarding the Terrorists and their deeds. He condemned them ruthlessly; according to his convictions, it was the duty of all European governments to refuse such persons the right of asylum, and to deliver them over as ordinary criminals to the Russian authorities. In particular I had a lively recollection of the following occurrence. Professor Thun had given a lecture in the Basel “Freisinniges Verein,” before a large audience, on “Two Episodes in the Russian Revolutionary Movement.” These two episodes were the attempted assassination of Alexander II. and the Tchigirìn case. In speaking of the latter he related how Stefanòvitch, Bohanòvsky, and I had escaped from the fortress of Ki?v;[11] and he closed with the remark that these criminals were living in foreign parts, and had “unfortunately” not yet been captured. I had an opportunity afterwards of speaking to him on the subject, and gathered the impression that if he knew my real name Professor Thun would not only break off all connection with me, but under certain circumstances would even perhaps assist in my “capture.” This led me to reduce my personal relations with him to a minimum, and besides I shortly afterwards left Basel.
Now here I was standing, a prisoner, before this man, and he knew who I really was! My feelings may be imagined.
“How do you know my name?” I asked, trembling with excitement.
16“Your friend, Karl Moor, told me it in confidence after you had left Basel.”
“And although you know who I am you offer me your help?” asked I in surprise.
“Yes. Only tell me how to help you, and I will do what I can.”
I could scarcely grasp it, but one look in his eyes convinced me that I might trust him; it was that intuitive confidence that, once given, is unbounded.
“Thank you,” said I. “Well, if I do not succeed in getting out of prison by lawful means, I shall try to escape. Would you stand by me then?”
“Certainly,” said he simply and earnestly.
I still could hardly believe my ears. This German professor, whom I had heard publicly express his regret that the minions of Tsarism had not yet caught me—in other words, that I was not hanging on the gallows—this same man now offered me help to fly from a German prison! He gave me, however, undeniable proof of his sincerity. As translator he was in possession of all books, letters, etc., taken from me; he now produced my notebook, and advised me to tear out and destroy pages on which he had noticed addresses entered that might prejudice my cause. Of course, I immediately acted on his suggestion.
I then proposed to him that he should go to Basel without delay, tell my friend Axelrod what had occurred, instruct him what steps he could take to obtain my release by legal means, and finally, arrange with him some way of effecting my escape should the danger of extradition to Russia arise.
This task Professor Thun fulfilled to the letter; and during my imprisonment in Freiburg he did me many kind offices, running serious risk of thereby compromising his own position. He arranged secret meetings in Freiburg Cathedral with my friends, who had come in haste on the chance of being useful to me. He was also 17the medium of both verbal and written communication between me and my comrades.
Having the right of free access to me, as the authorities placed full confidence in an illustrious professor, he often had me called into the translator’s office, where we could chat undisturbed. In these conversations I saw how much he had taken my affairs to heart. He went so far as to offer his house as a refuge if I were obliged to attempt an escape. Sometimes he joked about the part he was playing:—“Look at me, now,” he would say, laughing; “I, a German professor of dignity and position, have become a Russian conspirator; and this peaceful town of Freiburg is the scene of a plot!” Through his relations with the magistrate he knew how my case was going on, and of course he kept me posted up.
At the first hearing of my case I made the following statement:—I was a Russian student, and had come abroad in pursuit of my studies. I had married here, and had one child. Hitherto I had lived in Switzerland, but now I wished to remain in Freiburg, whither my wife, now in Zurich, was to follow me. I lived partly by literary work, partly on private means. In Switzerland I had attended the University as “hospitant” (an occasional student at lectures).[12] As for my political opinions, when I left Russia they were still somewhat undecided; but the influence of German literature had led me to join the Social Democrats, and I had determined to assist, as far as I could, in the propagating of their views in my own country.[13] When, for various reasons, I had determined to 18live in Germany, I had brought with me the publications found in my possession, meaning to sell them eventually to the country people. They were not prohibited in Germany, and their possession was in no possible sense an infringement of German law. “And now,” I concluded, “in a free German town, in Frei-Burg, I have been arrested with no legal justification, without any of the prescribed formalities, I am subjected to all manner of indignities, and clapped into gaol like a common malefactor. As if that were not enough, the police, with no shadow of excuse, seized upon and arrested a lady of this town as if she were a pickpocket or disturber of the peace. I may well ask, What difference is there between this constitutional state of the German Empire and the absolute despotism of Russia? No one could have been worse treated, even in Russia!”
These words seemed to make some impression on the magistrate. He walked up and down excitedly, while he dictated my statement to the clerk, assured me repeatedly of his sympathy, and asserted his keen disapproval of the way in which the police had behaved towards me and the young lady. At one point he muttered, “Still, as Othello says, ‘The handkerchief, the handkerchief!’” Herr Leiblen appeared to be quite on my side, and Professor Thun told me later that he had declared the matter seemed to him harmless enough; in his opinion here was a perfectly innocent person being kept shut up in prison, and he hoped I should soon be set free. I had therefore a well-grounded hope of obtaining my release in due course; nevertheless doubts continued to arise, and thoughts of escape still haunted me. With some slight help from outside it would probably have been by no means difficult during these first days of my imprisonment.
One day, while I was still in this state of suspense betwixt hope and fear, I was called into the visitors' room. I expected to find Professor Thun there, and was surprised at being confronted by a man perfectly unknown 19to me. He introduced himself by name (I cannot recollect it now), and informed me that he was a lawyer, who had been engaged by my friends to undertake my defence. He announced himself as a comrade, a member of the Social-Democratic party, and invited me to be quite open with him, as my friends had already told him everything concerning my past career. “You think of attempting to escape?” he asked in a whisper; and when I assented he continued quickly, “That would be a most fatal mistake. I have just seen the minutes of your case; the affair is going splendidly for you. I have no doubt you will soon be set at liberty. Why should you risk the dangers of a flight? If the attempt were to fail you would be in an infinitely worse position than now. I have been talking to the magistrate; he is convinced there is nothing of any significance against you. As soon as inquiries in Switzerland have elicited a satisfactory reply regarding your identity you will be released.”
“But,” I interposed, “supposing a simultaneous inquiry is set on foot in Russia?”
“There is no ground whatever for such a proceeding,” replied the lawyer, “and if it were contemplated we should get to know it somehow. Germany is not Russia. With us legal proceedings are not secret. On the contrary, the law provides that your trial shall be held in public, and all documents relative to the case are without delay submitted to me as your counsel. In such documents mention would be made if an understanding with the Russian authorities were suggested. In our conduct of such cases it is absolutely out of the question that such a weighty complication should be kept private.”
“Yes,” I interrupted, “but how can you be sure that the police executive will not put the political and administrative authorities in communication with Russia?”
“The Government and the police would never combine in an affair of law without some announcement. You were arrested because there were grounds for supposing 20you in relation with persons who had made themselves liable to prosecution by German law. If you are set free—as neither I nor the magistrate have the slightest doubt that you will be—you will be discharged unconditionally. There is nothing now to wait for but the establishment of your identity in Switzerland. You may rely on this. As a German lawyer I know all our legal methods; you, on the other hand, judge from Russian conditions, which are altogether different.”
An inner voice said to me that the consistency of German law was not so entirely to be trusted; but I had no rational ground for demur, as German affairs of the kind were perfectly strange to me. And an attempt to escape, although it might have been easily managed in the first instance, became more risky as time went on. Though not quite abandoning the idea, these considerations led me to set it aside for the moment, till we had some proof of collaboration between the Russian and German Governments. Apparently such a step could not be hidden from me; and I had the well-known and influential Professor Thun on my side, who was on the best of terms with the authorities both of town and state. News must reach me through him if anything fresh were planned.