Chapter XLVIII: Last Days

On the Homestretch,
_Sub Rosa_, April 15, 1905.

MY DEAR GIRL:

The last spring is here, and a song is in my heart. Only three
more months, and I shall have settled accounts with Father Penn.
There is the year in the workhouse, of course, and that prison,
I am told, is even a worse hell than this one. But I feel strong
with the suffering that is past, and perhaps even more so with
the wonderful jewel I have found. The man I mentioned in former
letters has proved a most beautiful soul and sincere friend. In
every possible way he has been trying to make my existence more
endurable. With what little he may, he says, he wants to make
amends for the injustice and brutality of society. He is a
Socialist, with a broad outlook upon life. Our lengthy
discussions (per notes) afford me many moments of pleasure and
joy.

It is chiefly to his exertions that I shall owe my commutation
time. The sentiment of the Inspectors was not favorable. I
believe it was intended to deprive me of two years' good time.
Think what it would mean to us! But my friend--my dear Chum, as
I affectionately call him--has quietly but persistently been at
work, with the result that the Inspectors have "seen the light."
It is now definite that I shall be released in July. The date is
still uncertain. I can barely realize that I am soon to leave
this place. The anxiety and restlessness of the last month would
be almost unbearable, but for the soothing presence of my
devoted friend. I hope some day you will meet him,--perhaps even
soon, for he is not of the quality that can long remain a
helpless witness of the torture of men. He wants to work in the
broader field, where he may join hands with those who strive to
reconstruct the conditions that are bulwarked with prison bars.

But while necessity forces him to remain here, his character is
in evidence. He devotes his time and means to lightening the
burden of the prisoners. His generous interest kept my sick
friend Harry alive, in the hope of a pardon. You will be
saddened to hear that the Board refused to release him, on the
ground that he was not "sufficiently ill." The poor boy, who had
never been out of sight of a guard since he was a child of ten,
died a week after the pardon was refused.

But though my Chum could not give freedom to Harry, he was
instrumental in saving another young life from the hands of the
hangman. It was the case of young Paul, typical of prison as the
nursery of crime. The youth was forced to work alongside of a
man who persecuted and abused him because he resented improper
advances. Repeatedly Paul begged the Warden to transfer him to
another department; but his appeals were ignored. The two
prisoners worked in the bakery. Early one morning, left alone,
the man attempted to violate the boy. In the struggle that
followed the former was killed. The prison management was
determined to hang the lad, "in the interests of discipline."
The officers openly avowed they would "fix his clock."
Permission for a collection, to engage an attorney for Paul, was
refused. Prisoners who spoke in his behalf were severely
punished; the boy was completely isolated preparatory to his
trial. He stood absolutely helpless, alone. But the dear Chum
came to the rescue of Paul. The work had to be done secretly,
and it was a most difficult task to secure witnesses for the
defence among the prisoners terrorized by the guards. But Chum
threw himself into the work with heart and soul. Day and night
he labored to give the boy a chance for his life. He almost
broke down before the ordeal was over. But the boy was saved;
the jury acquitted him on the ground of self-defence.

* * * * *

The proximity of release, if only to change cells, is
nerve-racking in the extreme. But even the mere change will be a
relief. Meanwhile my faithful friend does everything in his
power to help me bear the strain. Besides ministering to my
physical comforts, he generously supplies me with books and
publications. It helps to while away the leaden-heeled days, and
keeps me abreast of the world's work. The Chum is enthusiastic
over the growing strength of Socialism, and we often discuss the
subject with much vigor. It appears to me, however, that the
Socialist anxiety for success is by degrees perverting essential
principles. It is with much sorrow I have learned that political
activity, formerly viewed merely as a means of spreading
Socialist ideas, has gradually become an end in itself.
Straining for political power weakens the fibres of character
and ideals. Daily contact with authority has strengthened my
conviction that control of the governmental power is an illusory
remedy for social evils. Inevitable consequences of false
conceptions are not to be legislated out of existence. It is not
merely the conditions, but the fundamental ideas of present
civilization, that are to be transvalued, to give place to new
social and individual relations. The emancipation of labor is
the necessary first step along the road of a regenerated
humanity; but even that can be accomplished only through the
awakened consciousness of the toilers, acting on their own
initiative and strength.

On these and other points Chum differs with me, but his intense
friendship knows no intellectual distinctions. He is to visit
you during his August vacation. I know you will make him feel my
gratitude, for I can never repay his boundless devotion.

Sasha.

DEAREST CHUM:

It seemed as if all aspiration and hope suddenly went out of my
life when you disappeared so mysteriously. I was tormented by
the fear of some disaster. Your return has filled me with joy,
and I am happy to know that you heard and responded
unhesitatingly to the call of a sacred cause.

I greatly envy your activity in the P. circle. The revolution in
Russia has stirred me to the very depths. The giant is
awakening, the mute giant that has suffered so patiently,
voicing his misery and agony only in the anguish-laden song and
on the pages of his Gorkys.

Dear friend, you remember our discussion regarding Plehve. I may
have been in error when I expressed the view that the execution
of the monster, encouraging sign of individual revolutionary
activity as it was, could not be regarded as a manifestation of
social awakening. But the present uprising undoubtedly points to
widespread rebellion permeating Russian life. Yet it would
probably be too optimistic to hope for a very radical change. I
have been absent from my native land for many years; but in my
youth I was close to the life and thought of the peasant. Large,
heavy bodies move slowly. The proletariat of the cities has
surely become impregnated with revolutionary ideas, but the
vital element of Russia is the agrarian population. I fear,
moreover, that the dominant reaction is still very strong,
though it has no doubt been somewhat weakened by the discontent
manifesting in the army and, especially, in the navy. With all
my heart I hope that the revolution will be successful. Perhaps
a constitution is the most we can expect. But whatever the
result, the bare fact of a revolution in long-suffering Russia
is a tremendous inspiration. I should be the happiest of men to
join in the glorious struggle.

Long live the Revolution!

A.

DEAR CHUM:

Thanks for your kind offer. But I am absolutely opposed to
having any steps taken to eliminate the workhouse sentence. I
have served these many years and I shall survive one more, I
will ask no favors of the enemy. They will even twist their own
law to deprive me of the five months' good time, to which I am
entitled on the last year. I understand that I shall be allowed
only two months off, on the preposterous ground that the
workhouse term constitutes the first year of a _new_ sentence!
But I do not wish you to trouble about the matter. You have more
important work to do. Give all your energies to the good cause.
Prepare the field for the mission of Tchaikovsky and Babushka,
and I shall be with you in spirit when you embrace our brave
comrades of the Russian Revolution, whose dear names were a
hallowed treasure of my youth.

May success reward the efforts of our brothers in Russia.

A.

CHUM:

Just got word from the Deputy that my papers are signed. I
didn't wish to cause you anxiety, but I was apprehensive of some
hitch. But it's positive and settled now,--I go out on the 19th.
Just one more week! This is the happiest day in thirteen years.
Shake, Comrade.

A.

DEAREST CHUM:

My hand trembles as I write this last good-bye. I'll be gone in
an hour. My heart is too full for words. Please send enclosed
notes to my friends, and embrace them all as I embrace you now.
I shall live in the hope of meeting you all next year. Good-bye,
dear, devoted friend.

With my whole heart,

Your Comrade and Chum.

July 19, 1905.

DEAREST GIRL:

It's Wednesday morning, the 19th, at last!

Geh stiller meines Herzens Schlag
Und schliesst euch alle meine alten Wunden,
Denn dieses ist mein letzter Tag
Und dies sind seine letzten Stunden.

My last thoughts within these walls are of you, my dear, dear
Sonya, the Immutable!

Sasha.